The Christmas Arrangement

by A. J. Morrow

  “Merry Christmas.”

  Tess ran over to Colette and grabbed her by the arms, sending her book flying. “Merry Christmas, merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!”

  They jumped around, Colette’s usually calm and collected demeanor slipping away, Tess giggling all the while.

  “My, you don’t do things by half measures, do you?” said Colette.

  Tess pulled her toward the bedroom door. “Come on, let’s go downstairs!”

  Both were still in their pajamas, though Tess had her signature ugly sweater thrown on as well. It was black, with a sparkly angel on front, just like she’d planned two days before when shopping for Colette’s Christmas present. They raced down the stairs, hot on the heels of Colette’s littlest cousins, and bounded into the living room.

  Marian had outdone herself. Along with the decorations put up the day before and the fire roaring in the grate, there were lit candles attached to the branches of the tree, lighting up the room like a scene from a Charles Dickens’ story. The pile of presents beneath the tree had grown into a mountain of shiny red paper and ribbon as wide as Tess’s wrist.

  She took a deep breath and the smell of cinnamon, oranges, and cloves surrounded her, as if to wrap in in the feeling of Christmas completely. Pine, too, scented the air, and the crackle of wood splitting in the fire bled into the ambience of the scene. Erin, Marty, and Jamie crowded the floor by the tree, each in little footie pajamas, and Colette poked her head back out of the room to call everyone else downstairs.

  The adults trudged in, still sleepy, but smiling nonetheless. The plate of milk and cookies had been demolished, with only crumbs and a letter from Santa left behind.

  “Father Christmas has been!” cried Jamie, and the other children squealed in delight. “Can we open our presents now?”

  “Not yet,” said his mother, Jackie, “wait until everyone’s here.”

  Tess took a seat by the fire, in the same spot she and Colette had talked the day before. Colette joined her on the loveseat, her hand placed affectionately on Tess’s arm. Was that normal? Was that just part of the act? Tess couldn’t tell, but her mind was working overtime trying to think of ways to talk to Colette about it.

  They watched as the last groggy family members made their way into the room, much to the delight of the impatient kids waiting on the floor. Once the last great-aunt yelling “Merry Christmas!” had arrived, the gift giving began.

  Marian, in a wise move to keep the kids occupied, gave them the job of handing out presents. Erin went back and forth and quickly as she could, reading the labels for her younger siblings and distributing packages more effectively than Saint Nicolas himself. She handed Gus the first gift, a neatly wrapped box with red ribbon tied in a bow around it.

  Gus unwrapped it and smiled when he saw the contents—the notebook and pen Colette and Tess had picked out. He immediately wrote his name on the inside cover and gave them his thanks for choosing a notebook ‘worthy of his next great novel.’

  “This is for you, Auntie Lettie,” Erin said as she handed Colette a soft package. Tess’s eyes lit up as she recognized the brown paper wrapping and thin gold ribbon.

  “The label says it’s from you, Tess,” said Colette, “you know you didn’t have to get me anything.”

  “I know, but I wanted to. I saw it when we were at the market and I just knew we had to match.”

  “Match?” Colette sounded dubious as she glanced between Tess and the gift. Carefully, she unwrapped it and revealed the black Christmas sweater inside. Colette laughed as she held it up against her.

  It was soft and comfy looking, and, although it was definitely Christmas themed, it was more dignified than Tess’s sparkly angel. Two white deer and a row of little hearts were copied across the fabric in a fair isle pattern, and the sleeves billowed out like the shirt of some romantic poet. Colette immediately slid it over her head.

  “I love it,” she said with a smile, and pulled Tess into a soft hug. “Thank you.”

  Tess kept her eyes on Colette, drinking in the moment. She wanted to remember everything, from the flickering light of the fire and the smell of cinnamon to the way Colette’s hair fell against her face as she laughed. There was that touch, again, feather light on her wrist, as Colette leaned in to speak, and Tess could think of nothing but the desire to taste her lips on her own. If they could just stay there, like that, forever, with her heart beating in time to Colette’s words and her stomach floating somewhere above her body, then Tess would’ve been happy.

  The moment was broken by Marian making a comment on Tess’s ‘unusual’ fashion sense, and Tess laughed it off. She’d just had an idea about how to talk to Colette about her feelings, anyway.

  “I need to go get something,” Tess said, “will you wait here?”

  Colette nodded. “Darling, I’ve got nowhere else to be.”

  Tess slipped out of the room and into Marian’s office, where they’d wrapped presents the day before. There were a pile of little card boxes that Marion had given them free rein over, since they cluttered up the place and she wanted them gone. Tess picked up the smallest one—it was just the right size for what she wanted.

  With a quick glance back at the living room door, where Colette’s family were squealing about something particularly marvelous, she opened the back door and ran across the garden barefoot. Quickly, Tess grabbed what she needed and ran back into the kitchen. She put the now full box in her pajama pocket and wiped her feet on the mat.

  The living room was silent when she walked back in, cheeks flushed. Tess paused when she saw the expectant faces of everyone around her, each staring up at her with wide eyes and hidden smiles.

  “What’s up?” Tess said, and at that moment she heard a mewing from behind.

  She spun around and saw, placed under the Christmas tree in a little wicker basket, was a kitten, with a red bow tied carefully around his neck. Tess stared. He was so tiny, with curly black and white fur, like lamb, and a little pink tongue that poked out when he mewed. Tess loved him immediately.

  She knelt by the basket and reached for the tag. There, in Colette’s familiar cursive handwriting, was a note.

  My dearest Tess,

  I hope you forgive my rashness, I know I should have asked you first; you talk so often about pets, cats especially, I just had to. Thank you for all you’ve done for me, this Christmas, and in all the time since we’ve met. You truly have been the world.

  Love,

  Colette

  Tess dropped the tag and turned to the kitten. He made a high-pitched meow and her heart absolutely melted, even as she silently fumed. How could Colette do this? It was irresponsible—naive, even—sure, Colette might not have minded a sudden new addition to her family, but Tess needed time to plan for a pet. What if she moved? Her flat was technically fine to have pets in, but there was no guarantee she’d be there the next year, or that the landlord wouldn’t change his mind anyway.

  Tess picked up the kitten and held him to her chest.

  “What’s his name?” Colette asked, voice soft.

  “Um…” Tess moved to sit back on the loveseat, kitten still in her arms. “Whirligig, like the toy…. Sir Whirligig, the third. That’s his name.”

  “Sir Whirligig the third?”

  “Yup.”

  “Then who’s Whirligig the first and second?”

  Tess paused, then stuck a thumb to her chest, just above Whirligig’s head. “I’m Whirligig the first. You can be second, if you like.”

  Colette laughed. “Sure, Tess. I have to say, you manage to surprise me more every day.”

  Tess smiled and turned back to Whirligig. She fawned over him for the next half hour, as the last of the presents were handed out, and he relaxed in her lap so quickly it was like they’d known each other for years. When he began to purr, Erin clapped her hands together and he immediately jumped.

  “Careful, Erin,” said Tess, “he’s only little.”

  “Little like me?” said M
arty.

  “Even littler.”

  Marty made an ‘o’ shape with his mouth and the adults cooed.

  “Lettie, dear,” Marian asked, “would you go fetch the mulled wine?”

  Colette listened to her mother and left the room, which had been filled with the delicious scent of fruit and spice as the mulled wine was heated on the stove. While she was gone, Gus leaned over to Tess and pointed at Whirligig.

  “That,” he whispered, “is a ‘moving in’ present.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Tess, even as her ears went red.

  “I’m just saying that I won’t be surprised when you break the news, my dear.” He smiled and turned his attention back to his own cat, Roger, who was staring at Whirligig with an unknowable expression.

  Before Tess could respond, Colette came back in, carrying a tray laden with wine glasses. She handed them out to the adults, with quickly mulled apple juice for the children, and sat back down next to Tess.

  Tess took a quick, happy sip of mulled wine. It was sweeter than usual wine, which she didn’t particularly like, and had a deeper, richer flavor, with all the Christmassy tastes she loved the most: nutmeg, cinnamon, star aniseed, and orange infused by the slices floating at the top of her glass. She let the wine warm her hands, which were still cold from her run into the garden.

  “Colette, can I talk to you later?” Tess said, her voice soft. She wondered if, given the cat Colette had just given her, she actually needed to have two conversations with her, if it could be condensed to just one.

  “Of course, Tess,” said Colette, “do I need to be worried?”

  Tess shook her head, even though her stomach was turning somersaults. “No, not at all.”

  Across the room, Bernard was eyeing them suspiciously. He tapped Marian on the shoulder and pointed.

  “Don’t look, but Bernard’s being weird,” Tess whispered.

  “No surprise there,” said Colette. Slowly, she turned her face to the side so it wasn’t obvious she was looking. When Colette saw Bernard talking to Marian, his gaze fixed on them, she looped her arm around Tess and smiled widely.

  “Don’t worry about him. He likes to make my mother worried about me.”

  Tess nodded and pushed the worry away—it was probably just a side effect of her nerves about talking to Colette later, anyway. Whirligig wriggled in her lap and she went back to petting him.

  “There’s only one present left,” said Erin, a pout on her face, “but it’s too big for me to move.”

  Everyone looked back to the tree, where a single box, roughly the size of Erin, stood to the side. It was wrapped in red and gold, like the rest of the presents, but it’s bow was far bigger than any of the others, and far more complex, too. Tess felt sorry for whoever had to tie it, it must have taken hours.

  “I believe, my dear, that one is mine.” Gus stood up, back stiff, and did a little bow. Even in his dressing gown and fluffy slippers, he managed to look regal.

  He picked up the box—which looked surprisingly light—and set it in the center of the room. With a flourish, Gus pulled out the bow, and the box exploded in a cloud of confetti. Shrieks of laughter filled the room along with the colored paper, and, when the paper had fallen to the ground, Gus was left smiling serenely in the center of it all.

  He pulled out a piece of expensive letter paper from the box and held it above his head, as if reading a proclamation from the king.

  “To Grandpa Gus,” he read, “from Grandpa Gus. Merry Christmas.” He unfolded the paper to reveal the words ‘Happy Retirement’ in bold letters.

  “You’re retiring?” Bernard demanded. There was a gleam in his eye.

  “Yes, indeed I am, my boy.” He nodded triumphantly. “I’m nearly ninety, after all, and I have complete faith in my predecessor.”

  “Your predecessor?” Bernard said, and the room went so quiet you could have heard confetti drop.

  Everyone in the family, bar maybe the children, was aware of Colette and Bernard’s rivalry. They were also aware that, while Bernard was definitely cutthroat enough to run a business, he was in no way as hardworking or experienced as Colette. His one advantage over her was his ability to ‘have a life outside of work,’ which Gus always thought Colette struggled with.

  Tess bit her lip. In all the long conversations she and Colette had had about the situation, they’d never discussed what to actually do if Gus announced his retirement.

  “Yes, my predecessor. The lovely Colette.” He turned to Colette and took her hand in both of his. “I’m sure you’ll do an excellent job.”

  Colette’s face broke into a massive grin, teeth and all. She shook his hand furiously all the while telling him how thankful she was, and how she wouldn’t let him down. Tess relaxed back into the—seat, all tension gone, her own face glowing with happiness for Colette. It’d worked. Their plan, their weird, nonsensical, utterly bonkers plan—had worked. They’d done it.

  Sir Whirligig purred loudly, and Tess made pretend purring noises back.

  “Wait!” Bernard cried.

  Everyone turned to look at him.

  “What is it?” said Gus.

  “You can’t let Colette take over the company. She’s been lying to you for the last year and a half.”

  Gus stilled. “What do you mean?”

  “Colette isn’t dating that girl.” He gestured crudely at Tess. “She isn’t dating anyone. It’s all a lie.”

  The entire room sat transfixed, completely frozen to their seats.

  Colette was the first to speak. “That’s ridiculous. Tess is my girlfriend.”

  “No, she isn’t—she’s an escort.”

  Suddenly everyone turned to look at Tess. Bernard stood smugly, Marian glaring at his side, while Arthur and the rest looked on in confusion, waiting for her to speak. Colette’s eyes were wide and pleading, though neither of them knew what to do. Gus’s face was the only neutral one in the room, and the only one Tess couldn’t bear to look at.

  “I work for the company, actually,” Tess squeaked out, “I’m sure Colette has told you I’m her assistant. And her girlfriend.”

  Bernard snorted. “Please, I’ve worked it all out. I knew something was off with you two at the gala; I’ve never seen Colette that relaxed around anyone, not even Adam—”

  “That’s because Adam was awful,” Colette interrupted.

  “—so, I knew there was something wrong. I didn’t realize you were faking it until I overheard you talking yesterday, about Tess’s writing of all things.”

  Tess felt her blood run cold. Even the kitten, who’d been purring happily through the whole mess, was tense enough to flee her lap.

  “Nobody dates a publishing industry professional for a year and half without showing them their work, not even Miss Goody-Two-Shoes. The relationship had to be fake.”

  “That’s the conclusion you came to?” Colette demanded. “That’s the first thing you thought, not that maybe, just maybe, Tess was nervous about it?”

  Tess had to hand it to her, she was a good liar. The mood seemed to settle for just a moment as everyone let out a collective sigh of relief, and even Gus relaxed. That was before Marian started talking, though.

  “Bernard, we discussed this,” she began, lips pursed, “the relationship is real enough, at least on Colette’s end.” She turned to Colette, who was still standing awkwardly next to Gus. “Really, darling, you should have stuck with Adam.”

  Colette gaped at her, her mouth hung open like a fish.

  “And you.” Marian turned to glare at Tess. “You’re nothing but a gold digger, with no consideration for Colette’s feelings. It’s clear you haven’t got a moral bone in you.”

  Tess clenched her fist together until her knuckles turned white and her nails dug into the flesh of her pail. A trickle of cold sweat prickled over her hot skin, where the heat of her embarrassment was turning her red. The soft, fragile part of her—the naked, raw, vulnerable part, the part that loved Colette as a truth inste
ad of a question, which loved her in honesty, when all pretense was gone—had been ripped out and thrust onto her face for all to see. Her eyes were full of unshed tears, her throat was scratchy and sore.

  “Is this true?” Gus asked. His expression was blank, but his voice held enough shock that it didn’t matter.

  Tess stood up and a single tear spilled down her cheek. “I’m not a gold digger,” she said, and turned on her heel out of the room.

  She sped out of the room, her head empty, not even knowing where she was going. Silence bloomed in an expanse behind her as no one in Colette’s family knew what to do. Tess could vaguely hear some angry response from Colette, some vague reprimand, but she wasn’t listening. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. Their plan hadn’t worked, and now Colette’s family, and probably Colette too, hated her. There was no going back.

  Hot, wet tears poured down Tess’s face as she pushed open the door and sped out into the snow. The wind whipped around her, swirling the snow in front of her eyes and making the trees groan. Tess pressed forward, ignoring the icy bite of the snow around her ankles.

  Now that their plan was exposed, she’d have to fly back home. She’d lose her job, for sure—if Colette didn’t fire her, then Gus would, or Bernard, if he ended up taking the company. Tess had ruined Colette’s future, and now it was obvious how she felt. Colette knew, and there was nothing Tess could do.

  She could have been three steps from the house or three miles, Tess wouldn’t have known. The tears blurred her vision even more than the snow, and her feet grew more painfully numb with each step she took. Walking out into the snow in only her pajamas was not a good idea, but Tess hadn’t yet found it in herself to care.

  Sobs wracked her body and she bent over to let it all out. Tess didn’t stop walking, but now the tears were flowing freely. Why was she so emotional? Why didn’t she just lie like Colette? It was all her own stupid fault, and it meant she’d lost Colette.

  A hand grabbed her wrist and Tess froze. She spun around to see Colette stood in all her Christmas morning glory, like some kind hearted angel sent down to deliver mercy. Colette pulled Tess to her, so they were only inches apart.