All I Want for Christmas is Big Blue Eyes

by Claire Ashgrove

  “I have to admit, little brother, if I were her, I’d give you a new asshole for working on Christmas Eve. You just don’t do that kind of thing when you’re…involved.”

  “Thanks, Olivia. I don’t think I quite understood all that.” He punctuated his sarcasm with a snort.

  “Hand me a piece of white paper, would you?”

  He obeyed.

  Standing at her shoulder, he watched as she cut it into a small, two-inch, square. Hunched over it, she shaded in the edges until it looked like a miniature reflection pool, complete with inlaid tile. When had she gotten so good? He really ought to pay more attention to his sister’s work—she could make a fortune if she marketed herself right.

  She smeared some glue on the back and plastered it atop the green, foam board base. Then, she repeated the process, only this time she sketched out a nearly-perfect reproduction of a circular basin.

  “What’s that?” he asked.

  “Watch.”

  Folding a portion of the white paper, she made a few intricate cuts with the scissors, and when she unfolded it, she held a paper woman—minus arms. She picked up her watercolor pencil and shaded the edges, defining what he determined was a cascading piece of fabric, similar to a toga.

  Surprising him further, she bent the bottom of both sides in opposite directions, and with one more drop of glue, affixed the figure to the basin. The final effect—a reproduction Greek woman in a fountain.

  “Damn, that’s a bit more than what I expected when I asked for your help.”

  Studying the half-erected building, she answered distantly, “Never do anything half-way, Josh. All or nothing. That’s your lesson this year.”

  All or nothing.

  He returned to the bed and stretched out, dragging his sketchpad in front of him. Propped on one elbow, he fleshed out a rough picture of the exterior of his house. As he worked, the lines blended together, smoothing into a fine reproduction of the front side, including his covered stone porch.

  “I thought you were helping me?” Olivia asked.

  “I am. Kinda. I thought a picture of what’s in Kansas City might help. You sure you don’t mind a new roommate?”

  Olivia laughed softly. “It’s your house, Josh. I don’t think I have much say. If I can’t take it, I’ll find someplace to rent.”

  He turned his pad, studying the façade. Close. Not identical, but close enough it wasn’t misleading. He just needed the bushes in front of the porch, and the tulips that bordered the steps. The chimneys needed a little straightening too, so they didn’t look so much like blocks stacked on the angled roof.

  Chewing on the inside of his lower lip, he bent over the drawing again, and scratched in neatly-trimmed evergreen bushes. The tulips he’d leave to Olivia. She did flowers far better than he.

  Maybe by the time Lucas arrived with Emma’s Santa gifts, Amanda would be over her upset. Depending on how far he and Olivia progressed, he might be able to steal an hour with her. Cuddle. Finish what they started downstairs. Wait till she drifted off to sleep.

  “Sis?”

  “Hm?” she answered as she scrutinized her project with a frown.

  “Think you can spare me for a bit after a while?”

  Olivia chuckled. She looked over her shoulder with a knowing smirk. “It won’t fall off if you have to wait.”

  Grumbling, Josh turned his attention back to his drawing. Sure, it wouldn’t fall off. But after the torture he’d already endured, and Amanda’s current pissed off state, he wasn’t quite certain he wouldn’t suffer some serious damage.

  He glanced at the door as footsteps approached, trying to quell the flicker of hope that maybe she’d come up to see him. Yet, they passed by without stopping, moving on, and Amanda’s soft voice reached his ears.

  “Emma, you better get your jammies on. I’m going to take a quick shower. We’ll make our cookies when I get out.”

  Cookies. Josh’s mouth watered. Would she make chocolate chip? Or snicker doodles? Or even better—peanut butter. Amanda made the best peanut butter cookies in the world. They never had the odd taste that Olivia called shortening. The fact Amanda didn’t ask his preference spoke to just how pissed off she was, and he rolled over to look at the ceiling, considering how he could get himself out of this current mess.

  Sitting up with a sigh, he stared at Olivia’s hunched shoulders. His options were limited. At least for the next twenty-four hours until he could show Amanda the final version of his scale model. He was certain she’d be so thrilled with it he wouldn’t have much penance to pay, if any at all. Until it was finished, however, he saw no other option than to accept the fact he’d chained himself to the doghouse without hope of being let out.

  Speaking of dogs…

  He glanced over the edge of the bed to check on the puppy. Sacked out with his hind legs stretched out behind him like a frog, Charley lay on top of Olivia’s sandals. What appeared to be the remnants of a leather strap dangled from his muzzle.

  Josh smirked. Chewing up Olivia’s shoes almost made up for the damage the cute little scoundrel did to his staircase. He could fix the stairs. The shoes however, unless she’d bought them recently, were a lost cause.

  “Hey, sis.”

  “If you keep interrupting me, I’m not going to finish this by tomorrow.”

  He fell silent, debating which would be more entertaining—telling her about the ruined sandal or waiting for her to discover it on her own. Chuckling, he decided her reaction would be far more comical if she went to put her foot in it, and it slid right out. Besides, if he told her now, she’d wake the mutt up. With it running around, he’d have to keep one eye on the scamp until it fell back asleep.

  Pushing his sketchpad aside, he slid off the mattress. He unfolded another chair and sat down beside Olivia. “Okay, tell me what you want me to do. I don’t want to get in your way.”

  She nodded at the pile of brown cutouts as she passed him the bottle of glue. “Assemble those. We’ll move the whole portion onto the board when you finish. Right now they’ll just get in my way.”

  Easy enough, especially since he hadn’t drawn out this addition. The design resided in his head, and frankly, he only had a rough idea what he wanted with the pieces that were supposed to resemble wood planks. It wasn’t even part of the initial plans. Just something he decided to throw in for either approval or a swift veto.

  As he fastened two pieces together, he glanced up, assessing Olivia’s craftsmanship. To his surprise, he discovered she had half of the actual structure pieced together and now worked on smoothing a section of wall-covering over the interior walls.

  “Why blue?” He nodded at the piece of false wallpaper in her hand. “I would have gone with earth tones.”

  “You have so much to learn, sometimes it amazes me you’ve accomplished what you have.” She let out a harassed sigh. “Colors have energy, Josh. Blue is relaxing. It’s also very healing. It’s a place to unwind. Get in touch with one’s self.”

  “That doesn’t sound very…productive.”

  Olivia snorted. “No, productive would be red. If you used red, however, you might invite more problems than you can handle.”

  He quizzed her with a frown. “How so? I like red.”

  Giving him a look of utter exasperation, she rolled her eyes. “What is red, Josh? The color of anger, passion, high energy. You use it to invoke feeling—a splash here, a stripe there, a smudge in a corner. You can’t take your eyes off it, and when you see it, you feel energized.” She animated her discussion with her hands, sweeping one away from her body to indicate the walls surrounding them. “An entire room of red is chaos unrestrained. No tempering of anything. Arguments ensue. No downtime. That’s not the right environment. Productivity is one thing. Passion another. Unrestrained chaos is trouble, and not what you want in here, no matter how contrary it may seem.”

  More artist-speak. He wasn’t going anywhere near that response. Glancing back
at his small pile of work, he picked up another piece and glued it to his already secured portion.

  From the corner of his eyes, he caught Olivia looking at him. “Besides, if you haven’t noticed, Amanda has blue everywhere. The throw pillows on her couch, the border in the hallway, the placemats on her dining room table. If you want her to like this, you’d be smart to stick with what she prefers. Trust me.”

  He muttered to himself. A dissertation on colors, and she concluded with something so simple? That was all he needed to hear in the first place. Although, having his sister point it out to him, instead of observing that fact himself, chafed him.

  He knew Amanda better than anyone.

  He should have thought of decorating the walls blue.

  Thirty-two

  Josh flexed his fingers, attempting to stretch out the cramps that accompanied working with small pieces for over an hour. Using the brief respite to his advantage, he swiveled the base foam board around to appraise Olivia’s work. Not more than fifteen minutes ago, she announced the front of the façade was finished and disappeared to take her puppy outside. It was the first opportunity he’d had to inspect her creation.

  Peering down, he discovered meticulous, ant-size printing worked over the doorway—digits giving the building an address. Precision, down to the last detail. Damned if Olivia didn’t amaze him. He ought to take advantage of her talents and pay her to do this on a regular basis.

  “Josh?”

  Amanda’s quiet voice, accompanied by a light knock, snapped his head up. He was on his feet in an instant, cracking the door open only a fraction to prevent her from peeking in. “Yeah?”

  Behind her deep blue eyes, anger still simmered. Despite her lowered voice, her tone was clipped as she replied, “Emma’s asleep, and Lucas will be here any minute. If you can spare the time, and if you have anything from Santa, you might want to bring it down.”

  Ouch. She knew he did. Evidently, her shower and baking spree did nothing to temper her earlier upset. “They’re out in the car. Only, I need to get Olivia to wrap them for me.”

  Her frown deepened as he stepped into the hall. He reached for her hand, but she evaded him and strode to the stairwell. Talk about being in a doghouse. He was beginning to feel like he’d chained himself there permanently.

  He followed, stopping as she did when Olivia marched up the stairs, eyes wide and wearing a look of surprised confusion. Amanda gave her room to pass, acknowledged her with a nod, and proceeded down the stairs.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, catching Olivia’s elbow.

  She cocked her head to the side. Closing her eyes for a brief moment, she moistened her lips. When she looked at him again, the confusion still lingered, but the surprise changed to curiosity. “There’s a man downstairs. He didn’t knock. In fact, he wasn’t there when I went outdoors with Charley. He’s just sitting on the couch with the television on. I’d have asked him to leave, but I don’t think I want him to.”

  Lucas. Only, Olivia obviously didn’t recognize him. Josh ought to be a good little brother and tell her, but the last of her words piqued his curiosity and tickled his mischievous side. “Don’t want him to?”

  “He’s gorgeous,” she explained in an astonished whisper.

  Josh’s laughter bubbled up in his throat. He tried to stifle it with a cough, but it slipped out in one hearty burst. Priceless. Oh, she was going to kill him for not alerting her before she let that remark slip out.

  He didn’t care. He couldn’t resist. “That’s Lucas. What did you say earlier? Not in a thousand lifetimes?”

  Her eyes flashed with immediate fury. “Ohh!,” she exclaimed in an angry hiss. She stormed past him into the guest room.

  Josh smirked. Sometimes even dense little brothers had the upper hand when it came to know-it-all big sisters. Still, as he sauntered down the steps savoring his small victory, he discovered there was something strangely disturbing about Olivia finding Lucas attractive. It just felt…wrong. Lucas was his best friend, for God’s sake.

  At the bottom of the stairwell, he absently picked up a cookie from the dining room table, still too caught up in the oddity of Olivia’s remark to give Lucas a proper hello. But the sweet taste of sugary peanut butter chased the uncomfortable sensation aside. He closed his eyes, savoring the flavor.

  “You eat all of those, and we’re going to have words,” Lucas threatened from the living room.

  Picking up a second cookie just for spite, Josh smirked at his best friend. “You better come get what you want. Otherwise, this whole plate is mine.”

  His hands laden with wrapped gifts, unable to help himself, Lucas mumbled something unintelligible. He glanced back at Josh. “Didn’t you get enough with the batter? C’mon, man, save some for the rest of us.”

  “Josh was too busy working to steal the batter.” Amanda shot Josh an accusatory glare.

  “Honey, it’s important,” he protested with a heavy sigh.

  She shrugged. “So I hear.”

  Suddenly, all interest in her cookies vanished. God, he had to find a way to soothe her somehow. Otherwise, tomorrow would be nothing more than abject misery. The last thing he wanted was a fight on Christmas Day. This was bad enough.

  Trying a different tactic, he smiled. “It’s for you.”

  Amanda let out a soft snort. “No, it’s for you. I don’t give a rat’s ass about that stupid shopping center.”

  His hands now free, Lucas held them up with a low whistle. “Whoa, time out. This is about Emma right now, not whatever you’re bickerin’ about. I’m not in the mood to hear it either. Josh, come help me unload this stuff.”

  Lucas reached into the heavy black trash sack and pulled out another armful of boxes.

  He was right. Christmas Eve belonged to the children, not this petty issue Amanda was in a tizzy over. Their purpose here revolved around happy things—Emma’s smile, Emma’s laughter. Josh wasn’t going to taint that.

  Joining the duo at the tree, he pulled a shiny silver box out of Lucas’ hands and set it under the lowest branches. Something metallic inside it jingled as it met the hard floor.

  “Was that Olivia down here a few minutes ago?”

  The question sounded casual enough, but the way Lucas refused to look at him made Josh bristle. “Don’t go there. She still hasn’t forgiven you for cutting her hair.”

  Lucas blinked, his horrified shock etched into his features.

  Josh relaxed. That wasn’t the look of a man interested in a woman. Thank God. At least he didn’t have to worry about Lucas getting the wrong idea from Olivia’s normally flirtatious behavior.

  “She crashed my helicopter,” he countered with a scoff.

  “Oh, for the love of Pete,” Amanda cried softly. “If you won’t let Josh and I bicker, don’t you dare, bring up broken toys, Lucas Benning. That was what? Fifteen years ago? Josh, get your things from your car before we all wake up Emma. I’ll wrap them.”

  All too willing to escape a debate over who wronged whom more, Josh fished his keys out of his coat pocket and ventured outside. With the frosty blast of cold air, however, a finger of guilt crept into his thoughts. Amanda didn’t deserve this kind of crappy Christmas Eve. He couldn’t tell her exactly what he was doing, and in keeping the surprise, he did the one thing he hated most—hurt her.

  There had to be something he could do. But how did one convince a woman something was for her own good when she’d already made up her mind and wanted nothing to do with it? Nothing he could do, save for describing the exact modifications he’d made to his design, would convince her. When she turned stubborn, she could be worse than a rebellious mule.

  He popped the trunk, glanced inside at the solitary sack perplexed, and remembered he’d put Emma’s other gifts under the spare bed.

  Hurrying back indoors, he jogged up the stairs to his makeshift workshop.

  “Problems?” Olivia asked.

  “Forgot the gifts. You going
to come down? I could use an ally.” He pulled the Wal-Mart sack from under the bed.

  She shook her head. “Why?”

  Moving to the door, he answered, “Amanda’s madder than I’ve ever seen her.”

  “There’s a simple solution, Josh.”

  “Oh?”

  Affixing a piece of false wood flooring inside the model, she explained, “Tell her you’re in love with her.”

  Josh frowned. “And spend the rest of the night cooped up in here with you? I don’t think so. Besides, that’s for Christmas.”

  “Then don’t complain about the bed you’ve made.”

  He wouldn’t. At least not to her. If she couldn’t find a modicum of sympathy for his present predicament, he didn’t want to share his misery. Even if what she said held truth.

  Ambling back down the stairs, he presented the two plastic bags loaded with toys to Amanda. “This one…” He rustled the one in his left hand. “Has the things she knows I bought in it. Better make them from me.”

  “Okay.” She pulled the bag from his hands and set it behind her.

  He held the other one out to her. “This one, Olivia and I picked up on our way back today. Make them from Santa.”

  “Good grief, talk about spoiling,” Lucas remarked on a laugh. “Emma’s not going to know what to do with everything tomorrow. She’s never seen so many packages at once.” With a sweep of his arm, he indicated the already heavily-laden floor around the tree.

  Josh couldn’t contain a slight frown. Emma should have a Christmas like this every year. Maybe a little bigger, a handful of fancier items—like that automatic Barbie jeep he’d considered, until he remembered Barbie was ‘boring’.

  Maybe they had a Bratz doll electric car. He’d have to look when her birthday rolled around. “Honey, when’s Emma’s birthday?”

  “Same as mine.”

  That was a trap if ever he’d heard one. The smug look on her face confirmed his suspicions. He resisted the urge to chuckle, catching on to her ploy. “February third?”

  Although she nodded, her mutter teased his humor again. He covered it up by wandering toward the kitchen. “Anyone want anything?”