Holiday Magic

by Fern Michaels

  “It’s adorable,” Nadine said. “And since it’s only one story, it will be easy to string the Christmas lights, Phil.” Phil stared at the palm tree as if he wanted to hang himself from it. Nadine hopped out of the van and immediately started taking out the luggage. She was the first one to the front door. “Throw me the key,” she said to Tara.

  “I don’t have the key,” Tara said. “A handyman is supposed to be here.” They all looked around, even though it was evident there was no one in sight. Nadine tried the door anyway, to no avail.

  “Maybe there’s a key hidden somewhere,” Nadine said. “Phil, you check around back; Mom, you check under all the flower pots—”

  “Enough,” Tara said. “I’m sure he’ll be here any minute.”

  Twenty minutes passed. It was getting hot. Everyone crowded under the palm tree, vying for shade.

  “Call him again,” Nadine said.

  “I’ve called four times,” Tara said. “It’s still busy. I can’t even get voice mail. Why don’t you guys go get some lunch, or go grocery shopping, or go to the beach. I’ll wait here.”

  “We could all go,” Nadine said. “We’ll just leave a note for him to call you.”

  “I don’t want to miss him,” Tara said. “Besides, no use loading all the luggage back in the van.” That did the trick. A few minutes later Tara stood underneath the palm tree and waved them all good-bye. She smiled to herself. Alone at last. Even if she was locked out. She stretched out on the soft, sweet-smelling grass and waited.

  She awoke with a start. Her arms stung. They were bright red. Despite her mother’s toting it around in bulk, she’d forgotten all about sunscreen. She sat up and looked at her phone. He was an hour late. She tried his voice mail again.

  “I’m here,” a male voice said.

  “Finally,” Tara said. “My name is—”

  “Not! Gotcha. Actually I’m gone. Not gone for good, but same diff’ to you, right? You know what to do at the beep!” Tara hung up. That wasn’t nice. Now she was furious. She called back. An automated voice told her the voice mailbox was full. She should call the travel agency and give them a piece of her mind. They were supposed to be pampering her. This was not acceptable. She should be in her bikini right now, lying on the beach. She would be, she realized, if she wasn’t babysitting Nadine’s luggage. She was going to have to find a coconut and break the window. She was searching for one when she heard the rumble of a vehicle.

  His golden fur looked way too thick for the hot Hawaiian sun. His tail wagged, his large pink tongue lolled out, and from the way he was panting, he’d definitely enjoyed his two-hour break. She had to hand it to him. Sending the golden dog in first was genius. Tara squatted and welcomed the ambassador into her arms. He licked her face. His owner’s voice preceded his body.

  “Sorry we’re late, I got a flat tire—” The voice stopped dead as he looked up at Tara. He definitely looked as if he had enjoyed his little break as well. He looked even more tan, and totally relaxed. His blue eyes twinkled.

  “Oh, you poor thing,” Tara said. She put her hands up to her mouth in mock distress. “A flat? And nobody stopped to help you?” The man looked at his dog and rolled his eyes.

  “Just a couple of crazy New Yorkers who thought I was a serial killer,” he said.

  “I was the only crazy New Yorker. And by the way, the only one who didn’t think you were a serial killer.”

  “Makes sense. You probably develop a high tolerance in that city.” He pulled a set of keys out of his shorts and jingled them.

  “And just how do you know where I’m from?” Tara demanded.

  “Either you’re the crazy New Yorker who scammed a free trip because she was”—he put his hands up to make air quotes—“‘bitten by a reindeer,’ or you’re in the wrong place.”

  “I was bitten by a reindeer, and I didn’t scam anyone,” Tara said. “I didn’t even ask for the trip. WET offered it to me.”

  “All I’m saying is someone getting something for nothing shouldn’t be complaining.” He turned his back to her and walked to the door.

  “You’re the one who faked a flat tire and made us wait two hours so you could go play,” Tara said. “You are despicable.” He held open the door and waited. “At least your dog has manners,” Tara said, as she shook his paw for like the fourteenth time.

  “He’d skip out on you to run the beach in a heartbeat,” the man said. “And he’s only doing that because you smell like beef jerky.” Tara opened her mouth to retaliate, but then remembered. There was a stick of beef jerky in her pocket. They’d been handing them out at JFK airport as some kind of promotional thing. How did this guy know? The question must have shown on his face for he laughed and pointed at her crotch. “Sticking out of your pocket,” he said.

  “Oh.” She took it out. “He can have it,” she said.

  “No, thanks. We don’t eat junk.”

  “I don’t either,” Tara said. “I’m a chef.” Now why did she go and say that? This man didn’t need to know anything about her. So what if he thought she was the type of woman who regularly stuck beef jerky in her pants?

  “And I didn’t fake the flat tire, I just took advantage of it.”

  “I got sunburned waiting for you,” Tara said. He glanced at her arms, then his eyes trailed up and down her body. Tara felt a rush of desire, which made her furious with him.

  “You coming in?” he asked. “Cuz if you’re looking for an upgrade, afraid we don’t have any rabid reindeers around these parts.”

  “Excuse me?”

  The man held up his hands. “I ain’t against it,” he said in a way that let Tara know he was throwing the “ain’t” in for show. “I dig chicks who want a free ride. Just saying—you and I—we’re the same.”

  “We are not the same,” Tara said, plowing past him. She couldn’t believe he knew about the reindeer. Who else knew? Did they all think she was some kind of scam artist? “That reindeer really—”

  She stopped talking the minute she saw the place. It was beautiful. Billowy white curtains against the back wall blew gently out, as if welcoming her in. The oak floors shone from a recent polish; the pillows on the wicker furniture looked recently fluffed. Photographs of the beach lined the wall. A bouquet of roses and a tin of macadamia nuts sat on the coffee table. It was perfect. Tara couldn’t wait to change into her bikini. She turned to the not-so-handyman.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I’m sure you and your dog want to get back to your Frisbee game.”

  “We’re in no hurry,” he said.

  “Well I am,” Tara said. “You made me wait for over an hour; now I’m burned and tired. Just give me the keys, and you can go.” So much for having a fling with him. No way would she have a fling with someone who made her wait two hours while he played hooky. So what if he was gorgeous? He was a child. She came to have a fling with a man. Nadine was going to gloat, that was for sure, but that couldn’t be helped. Tara was glad she had standards, even for a fling.

  She wanted to enjoy her moment of serenity before her family came back and broke the spell. She wanted to change into her little red bikini and prance around the bungalow. She was alive, she was in a relatively good mood, and she had a very short window to be alone. But the man ignored her request to depart. He was tromping through the bungalow flipping light switches and water taps, saying something about the garbage and recycling days. Tara headed back outside to get her suitcase. She was startled to see he had already brought in all of their suitcases. They were neatly lined up against the wall.

  “You’re welcome,” he said.

  “I was going to say thank you,” Tara said.

  “Sure you were.” This time Tara looked at the dog and rolled her eyes. He bounded over to her and rubbed against her leg.

  “Lucky dog,” she thought she heard the man say, but when her head snapped up, his back was to her, and he was opening a closet door.

  “I want to see the kitchen,” Tara said. She wasn’t going
to cook while she was here; she was on vacation. Still, it was part of her, and she had to check it out. When she saw what a modest kitchen it was, she almost wept with relief. If it had been a gourmet kitchen, she would have felt compelled to cook.

  “It’s not much,” the man said.

  “It’s perfect,” Tara said, leaning against the counter with a sigh. “Average, small, perfect.” The man looked as if he had a dozen dirty retorts on the tip of his tongue, and Tara got the distinct impression he was thinking about her breasts, but for once he kept his mouth shut. She held out her hand for the keys. But instead of handing them to her, he shook her hand. A tingle went up Tara’s spine as their palms touched. She yanked her hand away.

  “I haven’t gone over everything,” he said. Tara turned and ripped a paper towel from the dispenser behind her. It had little pineapples on it.

  “Why don’t you write it down,” she said. She made a beeline for her suitcase. He followed.

  “You know, it’s a myth that women are better listeners,” he said. She grabbed the key, and her suitcase, then ran into the nearest bedroom to change. She heard the front door slam, and a truck roar to life. What a relief. She didn’t need to put up with the playboy slash Peter Pan man on her vacation. Let him charm some other island visitor. Surely there were plenty of men to have a fling with, even if he was incredibly good-looking and had a nice dog. Right now, all she needed was her little red bikini. She slipped out of her jeans, her shirt, her bra, her panties. A palm tree near the bedroom window provided the perfect privacy shade. That’s when she spotted the Santa hat on the bedroom pillow. What in the world? She laughed, then put it on. Next she turned on the clock radio next to the bed and flipped through stations until she found “It’s Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas.” She turned it up. Maybe the way to get along with Nadine this season was to beat her at her own game. She would overflow with the Christmas spirit!

  Where was her bikini? She’d flipped through all the items in her little carry-on twice, but couldn’t find it. She moved on to the zippered compartments as panic began to crawl its way up her arm. She knew it wasn’t in the zippered compartments. It should’ve been on the bottom of the suitcase; it was the first thing she packed. Or was it the last? She would calmly take everything out of her suitcase, one by one. It had to be there.

  It wasn’t. Was it in her beach bag? It has to be, she told herself, as she marched into the living room. There, gathered by the wicker sofa was her entire family and the not-so-handyman. He was going over the instructions Tara wouldn’t listen to, and Nadine was happily writing them down. For a few seconds, Tara actually forgot she was wearing nothing but her wrist bandage and a Santa hat. Nadine’s piercing scream brought it all hurtling back. So did the dog’s fur, rubbing against her naked calf. Horrified, Tara locked eyes with the not-so-handyman. He looked almost as stunned as she felt. She ran back into the bedroom, praying no one was watching her ass as she ran.

  She threw on a sundress and held her head high as she walked back into the living room. The man was holding court with her entire family, especially Nadine. What was going on here? Everything about her dream getaway was getting away from her fast.

  “Tara,” Nadine said with a big smile. “I’d like you to meet Darren Skies.”

  “Really?” Tara said. “Skies? As in ‘bright blue’?”

  “Really?” Darren said, looking her up and down. “Lane? As in ‘Right down Santa Claus’?” Tara didn’t respond. Had he meant that to sound dirty? It sounded awfully dirty. It kind of made her like him. Except Nadine liked him. Which made her hate him.

  “Sing,” Tiara said. “Sing Santa Claus!” Tiara started jumping up and down. Nadine picked her up, swung her around, and began belting, “Here comes Santa Claus.” Darren joined in next, giving Tara a leering glance on “Right down Santa Claus Lane.” He had meant it as a dirty joke. But nobody else seemed to get that. They were happily singing carols with the pervert. Tara folded her arms, shook her head, and watched everyone with disgust. She hadn’t even realized Darren was standing next to her until he leaned over and whispered, “You were much more fun in your birthday suit and Santa hat.”

  Chapter 7

  “Let’s go swimming,” Nadine said when the caroling was over. “Darren, would you like to join us?” Darren looked at his wrist, as if he was wearing a watch. He wasn’t.

  “I have an appointment in a half hour,” he said. “So I’d love to!”

  “Unbelievable,” Tara muttered.

  “You’re coming too, Tara,” Nadine said.

  “Can’t,” Tara said. “I left my bathing suit at home. I’m off to buy another one.” She was going to get another little red bikini if it killed her. Something was going to go right on this trip.

  “I have an extra suit, dear,” her mother said. “I always bring two.”

  “That’s okay, Mom. I’m just going to buy one—” Tara felt a small hand wrap around her finger. She looked down to see Tiara staring up at her, all eyes, teeth, and drool.

  “Swim!” she said. “Swim with me!”

  “As soon as—” Tiara’s lips began to tremble, as if she could sense an excuse coming.

  “I’ll swim,” Tara said. “I’ll swim with you.”

  The sand shone so bright it looked like a shimmering blanket of snow. In the distance the ocean’s frothy waves lapped the shore and filled Tara’s head with a joyous rush. Now this was life. God, it felt so good to be here. Her earlier cares melted away. She squeezed Tiara’s hand as they made their way down the beach, looking for the perfect spot. As Tara’s toes sunk into the warm sand, she almost forgot what she looked like until a passerby smiled and said, “Your granddaughter is adorable.” Tara gasped, and looked down at her body. It was covered in a hideous swim dress from the sixties. It was layered with so many flowers Tara was worried she was going to attract bees. It flattened her chest and accentuated her ass. To make matters worse, her mother had slapped a giant straw hat on her head, and zinc oxide on her nose before she could duck. The only reason she’d kept them on was the wish to become invisible. It didn’t help that Darren looked like he’d just stepped out of a magazine. He was walking in between her mother and Nadine, and, apparently, the conversation was just hilarious, for there was an awful lot of laughing going on.

  Tara noticed that Darren seemed to be making a concerted effort not to look at her, and when he did, he could barely conceal his laughter. Tara gritted her teeth, and reminded herself that she was here to spend quality time with her niece. Swimming.

  Tiara’s interest in swimming lasted about three seconds, until a wave rolled in and kissed her little toes, then she shrieked, ran back to her towel, and decided the sand was much more interesting. Darren was throwing a Frisbee with her father and Phil. She wanted to play too; why did the men think they were the only ones who could enjoy flipping a disc around? But she wasn’t going to participate in her hideous swim dress. Her mother, she noticed, was wearing a nice, black one piece. Nadine and Tiara had matching blue bikinis. The only person who looked worse than Tara was her father. He was wearing SpongeBob swim shorts. Tara spotted a notebook in Nadine’s hand. TO DO was written clearly across the top. Tara flopped down on her towel and pretended to sleep. Soon, she felt a shadow hover over her.

  “We have to plan Christmas dinner,” Nadine said. “Since it’s only the five adults, we’ll have to reassign roles. We also have to start on the decorations and the invitations—”

  “Invitations?” Tara said. “It’s just us. I assume we’re all invited.”

  “I just thought you might like to invite a guest,” Nadine said. She glanced over at Darren.

  “He wouldn’t be a guest,” Tara said. “He would be a pest.”

  “I thought you liked him. I thought he was fling material.” Nadine plopped back onto her own towel.

  “I changed my mind.”

  “I knew it,” Nadine said. Tara didn’t know it was possible to do a seated victory dance but Nadine’s litt
le ass wriggled in the sand as her arms pumped the air.

  “I didn’t say I wasn’t going to have a fling,” Tara said. “Just not with him.” Nadine glanced over at Darren. He was standing next to Phil. Phil was pale, and skinny, and hairy. Darren was toned, and tan, and smooth.

  “I’m so lucky,” Nadine said. Tara wondered if she was being facetious. “Still,” Nadine said. “As far as fling material goes…” Her eyes lingered over Darren. Nadine was right. Tara hated when Nadine was right.

  “I’m sure there are a dozen more just like him,” Tara said.

  “Yeah right,” Nadine said. “Well, looks like you’ll just have to focus all your pent up sexual energy on holiday planning like I do.” Tara flipped over and stared at Nadine. Nadine was sitting up, hunched over her to-do list. “What do you say we make a gingerbread beach house with palm trees?” Nadine said.

  “Is everything okay with you and Phil?” Tara asked. Nadine didn’t look at her, or stop writing. Her hand shook and zipped across the page.

  “Why would you even ask that?” Nadine said. She dotted a couple of i’s like she was ice fishing with a rusty pick. “We’re married. We have a beautiful child and another one on the way. We’re in paradise.” Tara didn’t get to pursue it any further. A Frisbee landed on her stomach. Then a pile of golden fur slammed on top of her. Sand rained in her eyes. Tara squeezed them shut.

  “Sorry about that,” she heard Darren say from above. “What are you doing?”

  “What do you think I’m doing?” Tara said. “Can you tell your dog I’m not a sofa?”

  “Wasn’t talking to you,” Darren said.

  “I’m planning our Christmas dinner,” Nadine said.

  “Forget that,” Darren said. “Why don’t you just come to the local luau?” Tara no longer cared that she had sand in her eyes or a giant dog across her body.

  “Yes,” Tara cried. “Yes.” She didn’t have to be looking at Nadine to know what her face looked like. Diabolical.