Alphas for the Holidays

by Mandy M. Roth

  And nothing is going to happen, I told myself sternly. They’ll probably sleep the whole time you’re gone and not miss you at all.

  Which was the most likely scenario. I really needed to stop manufacturing crises. Maybe lack of sleep made you paranoid.

  We headed toward the Home Depot, figuring they’d have the best selection of trees at this late date. At least, that was what I hoped. I really didn’t want to have to drive all over town, especially to places like Walmart, where we’d have to dodge a crush of holiday shoppers and probably end up with a tree that looked like something from the Charlie Brown Christmas Special for our trouble.

  But lo and behold, there was a gorgeous noble fir almost eight feet tall sitting in the corner of the Home Depot lot. I had no idea why no one else had snagged it, but I wasn’t going to complain. Connor and the guy from the tree lot manhandled the thing up onto the roof of the Cherokee and tied it down with a quantity of twine, and in no time we were headed back up the hill to Jerome. The whole procedure probably hadn’t taken more than forty-five minutes from beginning to end.

  When we came home and dragged the tree up the front walk, everything sounded quiet and peaceful. Same thing when we opened the door. I halfway expected the twins to start up the second we came inside, but all that happened was my aunt emerging onto the upstairs landing. She smiled when she saw our burden, and descended a few steps so she could say, “I had Kirby bring the ornaments down from the attic. They’re in the living room.”

  “The twins?”

  “Fine. Still sleeping. Go ahead and decorate the tree — if they were older, they might have fun watching, but I doubt they’d get much out of it at this point.”

  She was probably right. A year from now, they wouldn’t be toddling yet, but they’d certainly be able to appreciate all the bright and shiny objects hanging from the tree.

  So Connor and I hauled the tree into the living room, into the corner opposite the fireplace. Sure enough, there were the boxes of ornaments, and the tree skirt lay draped over the arm of one of the sofas.

  “Your aunt is one efficient woman,” Connor remarked as he stepped back and looked over the tree with a critical eye, apparently wanting to make sure that it stood straight in the stand and water tray we’d had attached at the tree lot.

  “That’s for sure. And thank the Goddess for that.” I hesitated, then said, “Do you want a beer or something before we get started?” I’d been avoiding alcohol, even though the most recent studies I’d read seem to indicate it wouldn’t affect the babies while I was nursing. Mostly, I was so tired that I knew I’d probably keel over if I had a glass of wine. Anyway, on this trip I was saving myself for the champagne that would be served at Margot and Lucas’ reception. But that didn’t mean Connor had to abstain.

  “No,” he said at once. Bless him, he hadn’t been drinking much, either, as if he didn’t think it would be fair to have a beer or a glass of wine around me when I was abstaining. “But I’ll get us some water. I don’t know about you, but I’m thirsty.”

  That sounded like a great idea, so I nodded and told him thanks, and he went off to the kitchen to fetch a couple of glasses for us. While he was occupied with that task, I went ahead and placed the tree skirt of warm red velvet around the base of the tree, covering up the water bowl, then opened the first of the ornament boxes. Rachel had been very meticulous about putting everything away, so all the glass balls were back in their original packaging, the one-off pieces in their individual boxes as well. She’d even gotten those special holders to store the lights so they wouldn’t tangle.

  Once again I imagined her packing all that up, not knowing if I would ever come home again, and tears misted my eyes. I blinked and set the lights aside, then began lifting the boxes of ornaments out of the plastic storage containers and setting them on the coffee table.

  Connor came back, a glass of water in each hand. He put the glasses on a couple of coasters before saying quietly, “You sure you’re all right, Angela?”

  Guess I hadn’t blinked hard enough. I touched a finger to the corner of my eye and wiped away the wetness I found there. “I’m fine. Really. It’s just — it was a year ago, you know?”

  Being Connor, he understood that rather muddled remark without having to ask for clarification. “I know.” Two steps, and he was next to me, arms going around me so he could hold me close.

  I breathed him in, the warm scent of his skin, felt the strength of his body next to mine, and the tears receded. This time of year would probably always be fraught, for various reasons, but I needed to accept that reality and move on.

  Which, after holding one another for a moment more, we did, relaxing into the ritual of winding the lights around the tree and then choosing the various ornaments and the particular spot where each one was to go. Because it was a big tree, the entire process took a while, but eventually all that was left was the star on top. I’d just pulled it out of its box when I heard a wail from upstairs.

  “Time to get back on Mommy duty,” I said, setting the star down on the coffee table.

  “Sounds like it.”

  Of course, it was really Mommy and Daddy duty, because we both went up to the nursery. By the time we got there, both the twins were awake, Emily on the changing table as Rachel took care of the messy business with a calm efficiency that I hoped I’d acquire one day.

  “Ian needs tending, too,” she said.

  “I’ll take care of it,” Connor offered. “I think it’s my turn to get sprayed in the face.”

  I couldn’t help chuckling at that remark, and headed over to fetch clean diapers from the bag while he retrieved Ian from his crib. In a couple of minutes, both the babies were more or less calmed down, although I could tell they’d need to be fed soon.

  “How’s the tree coming?” Rachel asked.

  “Almost done,” I replied. “We were just about to put the star on top.”

  My answer seemed to please her. “Then why don’t we take the twins down to watch, and afterward see if they’re ready for some dinner?”

  That sounded like a fun idea. Even if they were far too young to understand the significance of the star, it was bright and sparkly, and something that might hold their interest for a minute or two.

  So we all trooped downstairs, and I held Ian while Rachel cuddled Emily. Tall as he was, Connor still had to fetch the stepstool from the kitchen so he could reach the top of the tree, although he’d managed the rest of the ornaments without it. But then the star was in place, shining from the tree’s peak.

  For a second or two, we were all quiet, staring at the glittering Noble fir. Ian reached out with one hand, as if he wanted to touch all that sparkliness, and I smiled.

  “Merry Christmas, baby boy.”

  Chapter 2

  Because Margot had wanted to get married in Jerome, there weren’t a lot of options for the venue. I supposed that she and Lucas could have held the wedding and reception at Spook Hall, site of our Halloween dances and just about any social event that drew a big enough crowd in the former mining town, but that would have been way too pedestrian for Lucas Wilcox. So they ended up renting the entire Asylum restaurant at the Grand Hotel for the day.

  I wasn’t about to ask how much that had cost. The Wilcoxes had a tendency to throw money around, whereas we McAllisters were just a wee bit more Scottish in that respect. How Lucas had convinced Margot to be that extravagant, I wasn’t sure, but she’d definitely softened over the last month or so. Anyway, Lucas could be very persuasive when he turned on the charm.

  Even though the wedding party had basically taken over most of the hotel, there still wasn’t room for everyone. I didn’t know how Margot and Lucas had decided who would attend and who wouldn’t. Some kind of lottery, maybe. As prima, I didn’t have to worry about being left out, and I supposed that was how Sydney and Anthony had gotten in, too — she was my best friend and he was her fiancé, and therefore they’d been given a place of precedence.

  About a
hundred of the McAllister clan were in attendance, and some twenty or so Wilcoxes, including my father and his wife. I didn’t have time for much more than a quick hug from them, however, since they arrived fairly close to the beginning of the ceremony, and sat down in some haste with the rest of the Wilcox contingent.

  I hadn’t been involved at all in the wedding planning, for obvious reasons; I might have been the prima, but I also had a couple of newborns to deal with, and besides, Margot wasn’t really my generation. By that point I’d pretty much forgiven her for her prickliness in our previous dealings, since extenuating circumstances had been involved, but I sort of doubted we’d ever be what you could call close. Anyway, I didn’t have any idea what kind of ceremony she and Lucas had planned, since she followed my clan’s form of modified Wicca, while the Wilcoxes were, at least on the surface, nominally Christian. I did have a feeling there wouldn’t be anything in the service about “honoring and obeying,” however. Margot would never put up with that kind of nonsense.

  Because the last thing I wanted was to interrupt the ceremony with a couple of crying newborns, the twins were back at the house, being watched over by Tricia McAllister, my cousin who’d taken over Margot’s place as elder so she would be free to marry Lucas. I’d protested that the plan didn’t seem very fair to Tricia, but she demurred at once and said she was more than happy to take care of the babies for a few hours. Despite my separation anxiety, I did feel a bit more relaxed knowing that I could enjoy myself for the afternoon without worrying about whether Ian and Emily would decide to go off like a couple of air-raid sirens at a critical moment in the proceedings.

  The crowd quieted as the harpist and cellist in the corner began to play Pachelbel’s “Canon.” Lucas was already waiting at the far side of the room with the same woman who’d officiated at Connor’s and my wedding. So they’d probably decided on the same sort of mishmash we’d had, trying to keep both sides of the family happy.

  I heard a few low murmurs, and craned my neck so I could see Margot enter. They’d apparently gone with a minimalist ceremony, since she didn’t have any attendants, and no one stood with Lucas except the minister. Not that it really mattered, since I didn’t think any of the guests would be looking at anyone except Margot anyway.

  Her gown was deceptively simple, with sheer organza that covered her shoulders and created the three-quarter sleeves, and no other ornament at all. But the dress fit her perfectly, showing off a figure I’d always thought looked like it belonged to a dancer, with her tiny waist and graceful neck and arms. Her heavy dark hair was pulled into a low chignon at the back of her neck, and antique diamond earrings dangled from her ears. She wasn’t wearing a veil; knowing Margot, she’d probably decided one was too fussy.

  Not that Lucas seemed to mind. He stared at her as if he’d never seen her before, his dark eyes lit up with happiness.

  Connor must have intercepted that look, because he reached over and squeezed my hand, as if to let me know he was thinking of the day we’d gotten married, and how he’d gazed at me the same way. Not that I’d forgotten. I still remembered his expression as clearly as if I’d just seen it the day before. All right, it had only been three months, but still. On my other side, Sydney was watching everything eagerly, her eyes scanning the room so she could take in the sprays of Asiatic lilies and orchids that decorated the front of the room where the actual ceremony would take place, the screen of trees decorated with white fairy lights that served as a backdrop. I had a feeling that she would have been taking pictures left and right if I’d allowed it, but I’d already warned her to keep her phone in her purse.

  As I’d thought, the ceremony was simple and heartfelt, the minister talking a lot about the joy and love the universe had brought to the happy couple, and not much in the way of the standard creed. God was mentioned a few times, but not so often that any of the more pagan McAllister contingent present would get edgy.

  Their kiss was so passionate — and so out of character for Margot, all things considered — that I wondered if one of the more rowdy cousins would call out, “Get a room!” Luckily, though, everyone behaved themselves, and Margot looked so glowing afterward that I doubted anyone would make a crass comment. I’d always thought she was beautiful, but in a cool and distant sort of way, dark and exotic and not very McAllister-ish at all. Now, though, she definitely didn’t look cool. In fact, it wasn’t even a smile she wore as she walked down the aisle, arm in arm with Lucas, but an actual grin.

  Margot Emory, grinning. I never thought I’d see the day.

  My cousin Roslyn stood up to sing “Fields of Gold,” with the harp and cello accompanying her. This was the first time Connor had the chance to hear her, since I’d kept McAllister involvement in our own wedding to a minimum in order not to ruffle any Wilcox feathers. But I felt rather than saw him startle and sit up a little straighter, as if surprised that the McAllister clan had been hiding such a songbird in their midst.

  When the song was over, everyone got up so the hotel staff could reconfigure the space into a reception room. In the meantime, we all squeezed into the bar area as best we could. Because Lucas had set up the whole thing, naturally there was an open bar, and people could order what they wanted. As for myself, all I wanted was that champagne.

  Connor got a glass for me and one for himself, and the two of us and Sydney and Anthony found a spot off to one side where we could say hello to whoever wanted to stop by. I found myself promising numerous cousins that yes, I’d be home the following day, so they could drop by and see the twins then. All right, it would be Christmas Eve day, but we figured the visits would be done soon enough that everyone could get back to their respective households for their own celebrations. On Christmas Day itself, the McAllisters took over Spook Hall and had a communal love feast, for lack of a better word.

  But Rachel had already offered to come over and make her famous rib roast on Christmas Eve, so I knew she’d be around to shoo anyone away if they lingered too long. I was glad I had this chance to see Sydney and Anthony, because I knew I was going to be busy with family for the next few days after this.

  My friend had been quiet and respectful during the ceremony, but now that she and Anthony had snagged their own glasses of champagne, she was ready to chatter.

  “Wow, your cousin looks like a movie star!” she exclaimed. A pause, then, “That is, she is your cousin, right?”

  “We’re all cousins in some way or another,” I pointed out. “But yeah…maybe fourth or fifth on her mother’s side. Her father’s an Italian artist.”

  “I knew it!” Sydney said. “She looks way too glam to be just a McAllister.”

  “Gee, thanks,” I replied, while Connor started to laugh and then tried to hide his reaction by taking a large swallow of champagne.

  Unfazed, Sydney said, “Oh, come on. You know you guys are the crunchy-granola family.”

  Considering the boho look the majority of my clan members had adopted, I knew I couldn’t really contradict her. So I lifted my shoulders and drank some of my champagne.

  Looking pleased that she’d scored a point, Sydney went on, “So…what did you think of her dress?”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “Kind of plain?”

  “I think it suits her.”

  Sydney digested that statement for a moment. “Well, yeah. It’s just now I’m starting to wonder if I went kind of overboard with mine. Maybe something without so much beading — ”

  “I thought you loved that dress,” Anthony said, looking dismayed. I couldn’t blame him. The Goddess only knew how many hours of his life he’d had consumed by listening to Sydney dissect the relative merits of a mermaid-style dress over an A-line, or satin versus lace. And I had a feeling she hadn’t told him how much the gown had actually cost.

  “Well, I do.” Her lips pursed, and she tilted her head to one side. “Or at least, I thought I did.”

  “It’s a gorgeous dress, Syd,” I said honestly. And it was. Not exactly to m
y taste, since I tended to go for simpler things than she did, but I was with her when she tried it on, and it suited her figure and her golden-girl looks to perfection. “But I don’t want to discuss it anymore in front of Anthony, or he’s going to start guessing what it looks like.”

  He shot me a look of thanks at that intervention, even if he didn’t quite mouth the words thank you.

  “Okay, fine.” She drank some of her champagne and gave the glass an appreciative glance, even as she slanted a smile up at Connor. “Your cousin likes the good stuff, doesn’t he?”

  Amusement lit up my husband’s green eyes. “Well, let’s just say he’s someone who appreciates the finer things in life.”

  Sydney opened her mouth to reply, but right then one of the hotel staff came in and announced that everything had been set up for dinner, so we all dutifully filed back into the dining area and took our seats. I’d asked Lucas if Sydney and Anthony could sit with us, so I didn’t have to worry about them being around any McAllister cousins who might slip and mention something witch-related. Because the restaurant was owned and operated by civilians, we knew we needed to be on our best behavior. Even so, you couldn’t always monitor what people ended up saying at the dinner table after they’d had a few glasses of champagne, and while Sydney knew the truth about us McAllisters, Anthony didn’t. Maybe that situation would change in the future, but in the meantime, better to be safe.

  Also sitting at the table were my Aunt Rachel and her fiancé Tobias, and Margot’s mother Sylvia. She was also glowing, and who could blame her? From certain hints she’d dropped, I’d gotten the impression that she didn’t have a problem with Lucas being a Wilcox at all. Really, anyone who didn’t want Lucas as a son-in-law would have to have a few screws loose.

  Sylvia asked about the twins, and I explained that Tricia was watching them. She nodded, but I couldn’t help noticing the way her gaze slid toward her newly married daughter. Did Margot and Lucas plan to have children? I didn’t know Margot well enough to even ask. True, she was in her late thirties, but she still had time if she and Lucas really wanted to start a family. Maybe not. I loved Ian and Emily with a fierceness that surprised even me, but that didn’t mean I thought everyone should have kids. It was entirely possible that Lucas and Margot planned to simply enjoy one another’s company.