Deck the Halls

by Heather MacAllister

  “Not enough for two of you? Isn’t it also your sister’s field?”

  The expression on Adam’s face warned Mr. Steele that this had better be the last question about the Marklands. “We each have our preferences. Hers is real-estate law—she likes the hours better now that she has children.”

  Mr. Steele nodded. “Children.” His knees creaked audibly as he struggled from the small sofa. “You never know how they’re going to turn out.” He sighed again and faced the window. “I feel responsible, you know.”

  Adam glanced at his watch. He wanted to call Holly before she left. “Pardon?”

  “How old are you now, Adam? Twenty-nine? Thirty?”

  Adam reached for some papers he didn’t want and sat down again. “Thirty-one.”

  “Eh?” Mr. Steele turned from the window to look at him. “I guess you’ve turned out all right, then. So far.” He faced the window again. “Our embezzler is a friend’s son like you. Younger, though. I recommended him for his job. Supposed to be a financial whiz, by reputation. Didn’t really know him, though any son of . . .”

  Mr. Steele lapsed into silence and Adam stifled his impatience.

  “None of that matters now.” The man by the window couldn’t see Adam’s irritation. “He betrayed a trust and shamed his daddy and we’re gonna get him.”

  Adam didn’t doubt it as he watched the wistful old man become the shrewd and ruthlessly razor-sharp lawyer the world knew.

  “In my time, a man’s handshake was binding and he stood by his word. It’s time we brought those days back.”

  Adam censored a cynical thought. “If we did, we’d all be out of a job,” he remarked lightly.

  “Not you, Adam. Now, I don’t know what differences you and your people had and I don’t care.” Adam couldn’t tell whether Mr. Steele had deliberately misunderstood or not. “I need people I can trust. They’re rare, they’re rare. But—” he whirled from the window, shattering his pensive mood—“a firm is its reputation. Without that, you have nothing.”

  Adam picked up his suit jacket and walked Mr. Steele to the door. “Speaking of reputations, it’s time I got back to oversee things at the penthouse.”

  Mr. Steele blinked. “Is there something I’ve forgotten?”

  “The photographers?” Adam prompted.

  “Ah.” Mr. Steele took a deep breath. “That’s today, is it? Well, damn. We’ll have to cancel.”

  Adam caught his breath. Holly would be devastated. He couldn’t let that happen. “It may be too late. The photographers are already there. The tree is ready.”

  “We can’t have them running all over the penthouse.”

  “I agree. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Adam opened the door of his office for Mr. Steele.

  “The timing on those extradition papers is critical. One of us needs to be here.” Neither man moved. “And I’ll be in court.”

  Adam felt a surge of anger. The old man was testing him. This recent bit of nastiness must have affected him more than Adam had realized. He faced Mr. Steele’s watery-blue unwavering stare, magnified by thick glasses, and thought of Holly’s warm brown eyes. “Canceling and throwing the magazine people out after they’ve already got there is going to get you some bad press,” he pointed out.

  Mr. Steele winced. “Just what I was trying to avoid in the first place.”

  “I’ll contact the decorator and have her oversee them.” If he couldn’t see Holly for lunch, at least he could save the shoot for her.

  Mr. Steele’s hand crept into a pocket of his baggy pants. “That’d work, I suppose. Tree look good?”

  Adam nodded, remembering the mix-up. “It’s . . . approachable. Friendly.” He sat at his desk again, his mouth curved in a determined smile.

  “Good, good. We’re trying to soften our image a little. People seem to think we’re too formidable and aloof.” Mr. Steele shook his head as if wondering how such strange ideas got started. “Clients have been afraid their cases weren’t important enough for us. Get too many people thinking that way and you won’t have any clients at all.”

  Adam smiled, a real smile this time. “Yes, sir, it’s a friendly tree, all right.”

  “Good, good. Doug Hall’s gal did it. Got herself quite a little business. Would have made her daddy proud, even if she is a female child. He had all girls. Never seemed to bother him.” Mr. Steele pursed his lips in thought. “His death was a real tragedy.”

  Adam, who had been about to dial the penthouse, glanced up. “I don’t know the story.”

  “Had some dealings with Doug Hall, like a lot of folks.” The old lawyer jabbed a finger at Adam. “Now there was a man who did business by handshake.” Some of the vigor left him. “And shouldn’t have.”

  “What happened?” The leather chair sighed as Adam leaned back.

  “Douglas Hall and his wife were killed in a light-plane crash on their way to an oil-well fire about four or five years ago. Worst possible time.” Mr. Steele shook his head. “He was overextended and the oil recession was on. His affairs were a legal nightmare—or fantasy, depending on your scruples. Some of it’s still in litigation. There was nothing left for the girls, but that oldest one wouldn’t give up. I felt real bad when she came to me. I had dealings with other parties in the case and frankly, there was no money there. No trust fund—Doug Hall didn’t have anything to put in one.”

  Adam began to get a horribly clear picture of Holly’s experiences with lawyers—and with this firm. “Lots of publicity?”

  “Oh, my, yes. There was the insurance suit and the fraud thing—some said he set fire to his own well. Nothing was proven, and it’s still on appeal.”

  No wonder Holly hated lawyers. He’d just have to make her change her mind. “I’ll give her a call then—since you know the family and you want the publicity.”

  Mr. Steele studied Adam for a moment and nodded slowly. “That’ll be fine, Adam. We can trust Doug Hall’s girl to keep an eye on things.”

  “PHONE’S RINGING.” Gus dropped the light meter that dangled from his neck and glanced over his shoulder at the softly purring telephone less than two feet from Holly.

  Holly fussed with a bowl of silver and red balls she had brought for the coffee table. “I know.” She supposed she had as much right as anyone there to answer the telephone. She tried to make her “hello” sound authoritative.

  “Holly? It’s Adam. Photographers there yet?”

  “Yes.” Even with all the commotion, she had instantly recognized his voice.

  “I can’t get back for our lunch.” His voice vibrated with genuine regret and she found it matched her own. “Listen, Mr. Steele wants someone there to supervise, or he’ll cancel. I told him you could. Do you have time?”

  She’d planned on staying during the actual shoot, anyway. It was nice to know she was now there in an official capacity. “Thanks. It’ll be tight but I’ll stick around till everyone leaves.”

  “Good. Can you squeeze in dinner tonight?”

  The silence on the phone line was the only silence in the room.

  “Holly, move! You’re in the way.” Gus waved her aside because her shadow was in the picture.

  “Adam, let me go to the kitchen phone.” She handed the white receiver to Gus. “Hang this up for me?”

  “Okay, Gus!” she called when she reached the kitchen. The few moments had given her time to subdue the emotional rush she felt and put Adam’s dinner invitation into perspective. He was obviously attracted to her and goodness knew, she was attracted to him. But putting him on hold on the telephone was radically different from putting him on hold in her life. It was better not to start anything; her life was in balance right now—just barely. One more commitment would tip it over.

  “Adam . . .”

  “You’re going to say no. Don’t.�
� His voice was quietly compelling.

  She leaned her forehead against the cool white tile in the kitchen. “Adam, I can’t. I really can’t tonight, but even if I could, I shouldn’t.”

  “Holly, Mr. Steele told me about your parents. I’m sorry, but don’t turn me down because I’m a lawyer. I want a chance to prove that not all lawyers are alike.”

  “You’ve already done that,” Holly said. “That’s why it’s so difficult to say no.”

  “You’ve got to eat. I’ve got to eat.”

  He wasn’t making this easy for her. “That’s right, and tonight I’m eating sandwiches in a furniture store. I’ve got two trees to do.” And all these breakfast dishes, she thought as she surveyed the monument to their meal. She added a mental reminder and wondered where she’d steal the time to check the boxes of decorations Ivy had packed for tonight.

  “Fine,” he said easily. “I’ll bring the sandwiches and a few other goodies and meet you there. What time?”

  “Adam . . .” Holly sighed in frustration.

  “We’ve established the fact that we’re both going to eat. I’m merely proposing that we do it together.” He paused while she absorbed that piece of logic. “I’ve had too many lonely meals lately.”

  The rat. He was pulling every emotional string she had. “As long as you understand the ground rules,” she said firmly, planning to review them herself.

  “Sure,” he agreed. “I get to work while I eat.”

  Holly laughed. “You’re incorrigible.”

  “Absolutely,” he said in a voice that sent chills down her spine as it warmed her heart. Her resolve had wavered and they both knew it.

  “What furniture store?” he asked in the same persuasive voice he’d used during their entire conversation.

  This was it. Holly closed her eyes. Decision time. “It’ll be a late night,” she stalled, hoping she wouldn’t have to turn him down again. Knowing she couldn’t.

  “I do my best work at night.”

  Her lips quivered. “Stoffer’s near Central Expressway. Six o’clock.”

  And this would be the absolute last time she could see him. It had to be.

  “Haven’t you started yet?” Holly asked Gus as she returned to the living area.

  “Uh, had some trouble finding enough outlets.” Gus faced her, but his eyes didn’t meet hers.

  “Didn’t you bring extension cords?” She looked pointedly at her watch. “You’re already an hour behind schedule, aren’t you?”

  “That’s my problem,” Gus said and sniffed, fiddling with his camera.

  “It’s mine, too. That was the law firm on the phone and they want me to stay until you’re finished.”

  This time Gus’s eyes did meet hers. “Good. I’ve got a favor to ask. Stick around.”

  Whatever she thought of him as a human being, Gus was a superb photographer, Holly marveled as she watched him work. She felt really good about things for once. Gus photographed from all possible angles, with Holly watching from the sidelines. Beth Robinson and her crew had taken over the penthouse. Holly didn’t object. For one thing, she didn’t want to sabotage her chance at landing this design on the cover of the weekly magazine, and for another, Beth had a good eye.

  While the crew loaded the elevator after the shoot, Gus tracked her down in the small kitchen. “How’s about you and me teaming up for a little something on the side?”

  “Gus, why is it that you can make what is probably a very reasonable request sound lewd and suggestive?” Holly shook her head as she loaded the dishwasher.

  Gus grinned and slouched against the doorjamb. “Just keeping all my options open. Which,” he continued, “is what I wanted to discuss with you.” He looked down at the cameras slung around his neck. “I’d like to take some more photographs.”

  Holly gestured through the dining area into the living room. “Go ahead.”

  “Not now.” Gus squinted his eyes. “We’re running late . . .”

  “And you thought that your old buddy Holly would let you skimp here so you wouldn’t be so late to your next appointment.” She gave him a disgusted look. “Thanks a lot.”

  There was a brief flicker of something in Gus’s expression. “No, no. You’ve got it wrong. You know how I am. All these people.” He shrugged. “I like working alone.”

  “What do you want from me?” Holly gave him a hard stare and began wiping the white-tiled counters.

  Gus shifted and fiddled with his light meter. “Look, I want some night shots. This place would be great, and there’s a bonus if I land the cover. I want you to make sure that the guy who’s living here stays away for a while tonight.”

  “You listened on the extension!”

  “So?” He took in her outraged expression and gave her a little shake. “Come on, I’m trying to do you a favor—”

  “With a tidy profit for yourself,” Holly interjected.

  “—and I get shot down. What happened to Holly the Hustler? This might be the cover. Can’t you just see it?”

  Holly could, and had a thousand times. “I’ve got to clear it with Adam,” she said, ignoring his crack. She dug the key out of her purse and dropped it into his slightly grimy hand. “If he says no, then leave the key with the security guard. Where can I reach you if it’s not okay?”

  “You can’t. Keep him outta here until ten.”

  “Wait a minute—”

  “Thanks, Holly!” Gus ran for the elevator.

  “DRAT!” SHE’D forgotten all about Gus’s request to return to the penthouse, Holly realized in the middle of unpacking her angel tree decorations at the furniture store. It had slipped her mind in the rush. Maybe there was still time to alert the guard. Holly stared at her watch, then buried her fingers in her curls. Adam would have left his office by now.

  “Hello.”

  She jumped. “Adam, you startled me.”

  He looked around at the dozens of people working on their various trees in the mock living rooms. The sounds of crushed tissue paper as ornaments were unwrapped, the scrape of boxes, the squeak of packing foam and an occasional tinkle of breaking glass surrounded them. He smiled quizzically. “I did?”

  “I was thinking.”

  “About me, I hope.” He knelt quickly and placed a rattan basket before her. “Dinner, as promised.”

  “In a hamper?” Holly smiled delightedly. “Just like in the movies.”

  “Of course, just like in the movies. Where do you think I got the idea?” he admitted unselfconsciously.

  It was so elegant that Holly felt guiltier than ever.

  “How did everything go this morning?” Adam began to unpack the basket and Holly caught the whiff of fresh bread.

  “Fine,” she chirped, feeling miserable.

  “Did they like the tree?” Adam turned one of her boxes into an impromptu table as he covered it with a small cloth.

  “I think so.” She swallowed. “The photographer told me that he’d like to go back for some night shots. I meant to ask you. Do you mind?”

  “When?”

  “Tonight? I lent him the key.” Holly bit her lip.

  Adam studied her for a moment. “Will a lot of people be with him?”

  Holly was relieved she could tell Adam no. “He said he’d be working alone.”

  Adam shrugged. “You obviously trust him, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “Gus is all right.” Her eyes brightened. “That tree looks so good against the night skyline, we think they’ll use it for the cover shot. It’s becoming one of my favorites.”

  “Mine, too.” His eyes held hers.

  It was getting more and more difficult to remember that she didn’t want a relationship with anyone. “What have you brought to eat? I’m starved,” she said quickly,
trying to ignore the moment they’d just shared.

  “You didn’t eat lunch, did you?”

  Holly shook her head.

  “I was afraid of that. How do you propose to get the energy to keep up this hectic pace you’ve set for yourself if you don’t eat?” Adam set a poor-boy sandwich in front of her and opened a plastic container of crudités.

  “Someone special fixed a marvelous breakfast for me.” Her voice was soft and huskier than usual.

  When she saw the expression on Adam’s face, she was almost sorry she’d spoken. It wasn’t fair to encourage him.

  “The competition is gaining.” Adam gestured to the trees taking shape next to them.

  “It’s okay. As a pro, I’m disqualified. This is all for charity. Different organizations decorate trees and the public votes on them. A dollar a vote and the winners get theirs matched dollar for dollar by the furniture store.”

  “That doesn’t seem fair to you. Your time is worth as much as anyone else’s.”

  Holly shrugged. “It’s good exposure and I asked to do it. I figured some of the groups would drop out at the last minute and I was right. Don’t worry, I’ll make the most of this.”

  Adam unearthed a small container of dip for the vegetables. “You always play all the angles, don’t you?”

  “I have to,” Holly snapped, irritated. “You know, if I were a man, I’d be admired for being a real go-getter. But that’s not considered an attribute in a woman.”

  “I didn’t mean it to be a criticism,” Adam stated quietly. “Just a comment. You put quite a lot of pressure on yourself. It must get tiring.”

  “I can’t afford to get tired.” Holly stood and brushed the crumbs from her camel slacks. “You’re good with tree-tops. See if you can get this angel up there. And please . . . don’t tangle the ribbons.”

  “I haven’t eaten my sandwich yet,” Adam protested.

  “You can eat later.”

  “Slave driver,” he complained as he rewrapped his sandwich.

  Holly whirled around, her brown eyes intense. “This is exactly what I was afraid of. I didn’t ask you to come. In fact, I specifically told you not to. I’m working, Adam. Working. This is what I do for a living. How well I live depends on how hard I work.”