'Tis the Season for Love: A Charity Box Set

by Maggie Dallen

  “Don’t listen to him, he’s going to force me to bake him cookies and beat me with the whisk if I don’t comply.”

  “Whisks are harmless,” he hollered. There was a pause, but it seemed Collette chose to ignore his comment. “Now a rolling pin, that could do some serious damage, especially if it’s one of those fancy-schmancy marble ones.”

  “What are you talking about?” Brooklyn chuckled, but it only riled her sister more.

  “It’s all his fault. He’s making me sound like a mad woman!”

  “You are mad.”

  After another set of knocks, Jesse propped himself against the door jamb, with a raised eyebrow and a smoulder that would surely have him smacked. She should’ve been worried, this look was indeed deadly.

  Brooklyn lost her footing and leaned onto her sister.

  “Delivery for Miss Walters?” He winked.

  Brooklyn hummed, eyeing him from head to toe, “I’m a Miss Walters.” Licking her lower lip, she added, “But I miss the long hair.”

  “Hair grows back. Can I talk to your sister? It’s important.”

  “Are you cheating on her?”

  “No.”

  “Are you going to murder her?”

  “Only with my killer smile.” He flashed her another grin, and Brooklyn gripped the foyer table for balance, fanning her chest.

  “Take me away,” she breathed. “I. Am. Swooned. In all seriousness, she won’t talk to you, but she did tell me you’re a great kisser. Even though we’re sisters, I won’t find it weird if you won’t. It was only one date, right?” She lifted her hand to her mouth as to shield a whisper, “I’m more fun.”

  “Brook!” Collette seethed, red in the face. “You’re letting all the cold air in. Shut the door.” Another woman, older, like a silver haired Brooklyn, in a black cashmere turtleneck motioned him inside. “Mom!”

  “Oh Collie, it’s Christmas and he has the extra tables. To your far right, careful of the hardwood. Thanks.”

  Jesse nodded, carrying the bin through the house. Furniture was a dark mahogany with velvet baroque upholstery.

  “Is that a grand piano?” he asked Collette in wonder, admiring its ebony shellac.

  “Yes, that’s the music room,” she mumbled, glancing around the room, shrinking at all the stares honing in on them. Ripping the bin from his grasp to rush him, she doubled over, so he picked it up and continued on.

  “Does she sound as beautiful as she looks?” Given the chance, he would love to hear her perform and perhaps join in with a carol or two.

  “Yes, and wrong room.” She tugged his arm, “The formal dining room is this way. We moved a few things around so we could squeeze the family in here.”

  “Squeeze?” He balked, finding himself in a room bigger than the trailer he owned.

  “Where is Ezekiel?” she hissed. “You’re not supposed to be here. I asked him not you. Definitely not you.”

  “We need to talk, Lottie.”

  “I don’t have the time to deal with you or your nonsense, Jesse. This has to be perfect. It’s the first family reunion we’ve had in over thirteen years. Please. Don’t ruin this.”

  “Then listen to me.”

  “No. And it’s not Lottie, it’s Lettie. It’s not that I don’t like... but... I... just forget it.”

  Jesse grimaced. “Hey Brooklyn, could you help Lottie for a sec. I need her for something. Be right back.”

  “Are you crazy, she’s not going to... I have it all organized. There’s a specific—”

  Jesse swiped the list poking out of the back of her jeans and handed it off to her sister.

  “Fine, but we’re not talking here.” Collette hooked her arm with his to drag him through the kitchen, into the butler’s pantry. She slid the door shut as he clicked on the light. “Jesse, I don’t want to talk about my feelings. I don’t have any left. I’m...” He brushed the loose strands of hair out of her face for her, leaving her momentarily speechless. He nodded at the implication, but he wasn’t backing down. “Why are you here?”

  “I’m here to help.”

  “Help with what?” she asked skeptically.

  He tilted her chin upwards for their eyes to meet. No more dodging. He could feel her body relax as they stood close, like all their indifferences were melting away with each shared breath. Love, it surpassed words and carried them over the hurdles they once thought were too tall. There. In the peace, the isolation of a closet, he finally had her full attention. It wouldn’t take much to kiss those lips again, so he reached onto the shelf for a jar of dried herbs and lifted it over their heads.

  “That’s Basil.”

  “Basil, mistletoe. Basil-cally the same thing.”

  “That’s an oregan-no!” Ripping the herbs out of his hand, they bumped the hanging kitchen utensils off the wall. One rolled off and fell to the floor. Jesse picked it up, holding out the whisk for her and she flinched.

  “Don’t kill me. I swear, I’ll make you all the chocolate chip cookies your heart desires, just don’t...”

  “Huh?” Jesse tilted his head, like he needed to inspect her cranium for signs of a concussion. “I didn’t realize you had a terminal fear of whisks.”

  She stepped back and shook the figurative dust off her sweater dress. Scratching her neck, she mumbled, “I don’t.”

  “Will I receive a lifetime supply of brownies if I bring out the spatula?”

  The pantry door slid open, and Collette jumped like it was her first time getting caught with a boy. Her innocence never failed to amuse him.

  “Oh you!” Kaylee squealed, snapping her fingers at Jesse, “I know you. You’re the...”

  “Guy delivering the tables. Okay back to work.” Collette pushed him out.

  “No.” She reached for the box of sugar cubes, stumped on the answer on who he was. When it came to her, Kaylee snapped her fingers, “Mr. Wright.” Jesse smirked at Collette, with a wicked glint in his eyes that warned her he was up to no good.

  “That’s one of the pet names she’s given me.”

  “No!” Collette hissed. “We. Are. Not. Da—” dating? Her jaw hung in place, looking over her cousin’s shoulder. Jesse glanced at her shocked expression, followed what stole her attention. It was Bryson Duong in a three-piece black suit, white shirt, and forest green tie—his version of festive.

  Jesse reached for Collette’s hand and she clamped his tight. Still frozen in place, he leaned over and kissed the top of her hair, but she didn’t flinch.

  “What she means to say, is we haven’t been dating for long.”

  Kaylee grinned, nodding along like she was some relationship guru.

  “Gotcha. Keeping it on the down-low.” She stepped back, giving them their privacy. “Didn’t want to steal the thunder, I get it. You’re thinking about us. How sweet.”

  “How sweet?” Collette grumbled. “More like insufferable. You are not my boyfriend. You are not pretending to love me again. We are not putting last weekend on repeat. This is Christmas and you can’t ruin this day for...”

  “I’m not, but he is,” Jesse said, turning his head towards Bryson on the other side.

  “I’m going to talk to him.”

  “Allow me. Two and a half years was enough suffering for the both of us.” Lifting her hand to his lips, he placed a kiss on her knuckles ever so gently. “We need to have a little chat, man to man—not that he is one after what he did to you.”

  “Jesse...”

  Bryson caught sight of them, but Jesse blocked his path to her.

  “Bryson Duong.” He held out his hand for a cordial shake, though his smile was forced. This man appeared as vile as the day they met in court. His hair was slicked back, the very same. “Attorney—”

  Jesse dropped the business card he solicited on the floor.

  “Dung Law, and his fancy pants associates. Neat-o. Hey, you’re not welcome here.”

  “I’m not?” Bryson placed a hand on his chest, mocking the insult, as he glanced around the
room.

  Wordlessly, the two decided it was best to continue their chat in a less trafficked area of the home. Jesse followed him down one of the quieter hallways, to a redundant nook displaying artwork he could never afford. Underneath was a table with a village figurine set with a string of warm-white lights shining through them. It was a larger set than he had ever seen, and it glowed in the dark space, casting shadows on their faces.

  Growing up, the Thorne boys had a set with three buildings, a park bench, and small people, but he and Jaxson knocked the post office over while wrestling.

  Jesse leaned against the wall adjacent to the obscure painting, crossing his arms, but chose to focus on the set.

  “Oh, you’re that guy.” Bryson tilted his head, studying his clothes, peeking out the window at the Price Rentals delivery truck. “You’re Jesse?” He chuckled to himself. “You’re that annoying one who eats all her food.”

  “She prefers that... over sharing.” Jesse grinned back sourly. Two could play at this game and he was competitive.

  “You are that freak who is always making her life miserable. I know you. She would complain about you all the time. Every date. This week Jesse hid my chair. Jesse put salt in my coffee. Jesse covered every inch of my desk with sticky notes. Jesse this, Jesse that. Gosh, she’d never shut up about you. So freaking annoying.” Bryson stepped forward with his fingers together in a pyramid. He tapped his lips. “What is it this time? Hmm? Couldn’t impress her on your one single date with her?” His grimace swelled. “Thinking you could go on the rebound on my future wife? Oh no, you had to pretend. You think a haircut would be all it would take for her to forget the years of harassment? How dare you use her to get to me? I remember your lowlife brother. Oh, and Collette is not over me. She won’t be. She’s been mine from the start.”

  “Future wife?” Jesse spat out incredulously, he had to been delusional.

  “Jesse Thorne, stop trying for something that’s not yours—that will never be yours.”

  “Something? She’s a someone.”

  “I was referring to our relationship. Don’t interfere.” Bryson dared wrapping his arm around Jesse to motion to the house activity, family members reminiscing old times and laughing to tears. “You don’t belong here. I did my research. You have a record. You think I’d keep that to myself if you put the woman I love in danger?” His whisper was dark and ominous. Jesse clenched his fist. Oh, he was willing to add more to that list for a worthy cause.

  “If you wanted to marry her, you should’ve never pursued another woman.”

  “Shut it, there has never been another woman.”

  “Wow, you are a good lawyer. Lying through your teeth. No wonder they pay yah the big bucks, huh?”

  “Fine.” Bryson scowled. “You want the truth? She was insufferably prudish. I needed my fix. One time, no one had to know. She wanted to wait, but not all of us can. She has such high expectations for everything, and I wanted to wow her. Collette and I were... Take her sister over there and leave Collette alone.”

  Collette eyed them warily in the distance, too far to overhear them. Both Jesse and Bryson ensured she wouldn’t witness the insults they planned to hurl at each other.

  Brooklyn waved at Jesse and Bryson nodded back, flashing his deceptive smile.

  “Why are you using her if you—”

  “Oh, I want her. You’d think I’d waste years of my life for any woman? I’m a man in love. She’s the same innocent girl I fell for. Collette is wife-material and she is off limits. Go for Brook. She’s an easy fling. Look at those legs.”

  “Gabrielle?”

  “Collette left, who else was I supposed to date? She wouldn’t listen.”

  “You didn’t give her a reason to. You broke her trust.” Jesse looked up the hall to Collette. She was chewing on her fingernails, watching them. He turned his back, looking out the window. He never gave her a reason either. Each time they could grow close, he pushed their friendship back by sabotaging her drink or hiding her supplies. Sure he made her smile, but thanks to him, she was always on edge, often jumpy instead of relaxed.

  What was Jesse thinking? That he could swoop in on Christmas day and give her the gift of his honest feelings—that she would drop everything and accept them? Collette never listened to him and if he wanted her to, he would have to do something or not do something to gain that trust back.

  This was a conversation meant for her and Bryson. Jesse had no place interfering, yet there he was standing in the way.

  “Trust can be rebuilt,” Bryson said as he straightened his tie. “Why do you think I’m here? Don’t believe me? Watch.”

  Jesse couldn’t. This wasn’t his scene. He would never provide for Collette a life as lavish as this one, not that he wouldn’t want to. Plus, on their date together, Collette blabbed on about Bryson, so clearly she wasn’t over him. If Jesse stayed a second longer, people would be watching him beat Bryson before he could reach her.

  Maybe Jesse really did screw this up, but it wasn’t up to him to make Collette’s decision for her. She had to be the one to cut Bryson out of her life, so he zipped on his jacket to head outside. The last person he wanted to spend Christmas with was the lawyer who locked his brother up for double the time necessary for his crimes.

  The man was good and evil at the same time.

  “Watch out, it’s slippery out there,” a wiry man in his late seventies shouted. He had a snow shovel and was ploughing fresh powder off the porch steps. Jesse looked around the snow laden driveway and found Bryson’s Audi parked straight ahead of him. Great, because he needed one more hint he would never deserve a girl like Collette.

  “Hey man, I got this. You enjoy the party.” Jesse reached over offering to take the shovel off his hands. “Take it easy, it’s Christmas.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Jesse.”

  “Ho-ho! You’re Jesse Thorne, yes?”

  He nodded at the old man, who had an uncanny resemblance to the Santas in the movies with the curly white hair, but his khakis were tucked up to his waist and he had smoker’s breath. “Thought I’d recognize one of you Thorne boys. Always causing trouble. I’m sorry to hear about your mother, but glad to see you’ve grown up.”

  “Oh, I haven’t.” If he had, he would storm back inside and pour his heart out to Collette, not giving her a chance to doubt how he felt about her. “You are...?”

  “Uncle Maurice,” he brushed snow off the patio chair and sat on it. “Now don’t think your charity means I’ll throw out my standards. We’re going to clear this whole roundabout before it freezes up tonight.”

  “It’s minus...”

  “Trust me, kid. You wouldn’t want to chip away at this later.”

  Ezekiel’s pickup pulled ahead of them. “Where should I park—Jesse? What are you doing here?” He settled for his current location, leaving the diesel engine running. “No! You are not.” He took his list, glanced at the back of the truck and crumpled it into a ball to throw it at Jesse. “No wonder I couldn’t find anything. Why didn’t you... couldn’t you give me a heads up? I have a life. I have a girlfriend. Is this payback? I have...” Ezekiel paused when he caught Jesse staring at Bryson’s Audi. “That’s his car. He’s here. Why is he here?”

  Jesse pressed his lips together, not wanting to delve into the subject also not wishing to return to work on Monday with his relationship with Collette at stake, not after the long weekend with her gushing over the pig.

  “You love her, dude. You can’t let him slither in and use his greasy chauvinistic schemes to take her back. He’s a slime ball. Don’t let him think that just because he’s Mr. Moneybags with his fancy car and his dumb suit, that he is good for her. I’ve had to listen to the two of you gripe over that blockhead long enough. Who does he think he is anyways, showing up to his ex’s family reunion? You know it’s not a matter of the heart. She’s going to be guilt-tripped into whatever he asks of her. Really, who stoops that low? Do something.”

>   Jesse shrugged. “She has it under control. I trust she’ll make the right decision.”

  “This is Bryson Duong; he could sell ice to a polar bear! Why are you so chill about this? Pranking is your game and this is the boss level. Why aren’t you as excited as I am?” Ezekiel smacked his shoulder, “Boss level!”

  Jesse glanced at the shovel in his hand then at Bryson’s expensive car. Collectively, Jesse, Ezekiel, and smoker Santa grinned with a hint of mischief in their eyes.

  Collette sat perched on the window ledge of her bedroom window, like she had hundreds of times before. Jesse was right, Brooklyn had the setup covered. In fact, her improvisations were better than her own frazzled brain could come up with at the moment. There were shouts of laughter beneath her, cheers of merriment, and yelps from the younger cousins roughhousing.

  Everyone was happy except her. Merry Christmas.

  After watching Jesse admit defeat, she needed space to process what any of her feelings meant and if they were even reliable.

  “Hey,” Bryson rested his hand on Collette’s shoulder. “Can we talk?”

  She refused to face him, instead watching Jesse start up the gas powered snowblower and push it along the driveway. “What is he thinking?” she mumbled to herself.

  “Collie, I see what you’re trying to do but it’s not going to work with me, okay? You can’t avoid me forever. Who cares what he thinks? What does that have to do with us?”

  “There is no ‘us,’ Bryson. Look at him out there. He could have left, but he’s helping Uncle Maurice.”

  “Is that bad?”

  “No. Maurice shouldn’t be out there shovelling in the first place, but he’s as stubborn as a mule.” Turning to Bryson, she grimaced at his held back smirk. Yeah, it would be wise to keep those opinions to himself. It does not run in the family! But facing him was a mistake; he was irresistible in his pressed black suit—classy—a step down from a tuxedo. It made her feel out of place in her knitted sweater dress, more foolish than a grown woman living with her parents. Bryson was established and the flame they once had flickered. He was accomplished, but his success made her want to curl up in her bed with a blanket over her head. She didn’t want a life of high standard or keeping up with the Joneses. Her hair was down, the room was a mess, yet this didn’t bother him or, at least, he showed no indication it did.