Postmark Christmas

by Katie Bachand

  “It reminds me of something my dad told me when I was younger. I was questioning Santa’s existence.” Harris looked at Harlow as she laughed at the serious way he’d explained his life-altering moment. “I had argued and researched – always the worker, always trying to move forward.”

  Harris thought of the reason he was there with her tonight, enjoying rather than dutifully executing, but for a business venture nonetheless.

  He continued. “There was no possible way one man, even with the help of magic – which I strangely didn’t seem to have a problem with – could deliver all of those presents in one night. And stop to drink milk and eat cookies on top of it.”

  Harlow laughed at the young Harris’ reasoning, impressed by the thought and detail.

  “After all, nobody could eat that many cookies and not feel sick, which would also inhibit Santa’s ability to continue.” Harris nudged Harlow with his elbow to get her to smile a bit wider.

  “Anyway,” he went on, “my dad sat me down and told me Santa is as real as I want him to be. Because he’s not something you see, he’s something you believe in. So, I closed my eyes, and rather than see, I tried to feel.”

  Harris broke eye contact and looked up at the tree. “I swear in that moment I heard laughter from my family in the kitchen, Christmas trumpets playing music, and silver bells chiming where we hung them outside. I felt more in that moment than I ever had, so without seeing him, I knew he was there. I knew that Santa was real, and always would be.”

  He hadn’t thought about that memory in years. The simplicity of the moment – like the scent of pine.

  “I love that. It’s perfect,” Harlow said, loving the vulnerability of the recollection. She wondered if there was a fun-loving, sentimental kid, rummaging around beneath Harris’ sleek black façade? She hoped she’d get to see it over the next couple of days. Assuming he’d stick around for all of the Christmas wish events. She’d written a hefty list.

  “What do you think of this one?” Harlow asked as she looked from the tree to Harris, hopeful, because she loved everything about it.

  Harris skipped playfully as he began his assessment and started to move around the huge base.

  “Well,” he began, stealing a look behind him to see if she was following, “it has a nice trunk and a straight spine – critical for a space that will be viewing the tree from every angle. It seems, if you have at least a million ornaments, the branches are sturdy yet the needles are surprisingly not deadly to the touch.” Harris used his pointer to prick the end of a needle, and Harlow chuckled and nodded agreeably.

  “It seems it’s the perfect shade of wintery green with,” he leaned in and sniffed twice, “just the right amount of piney smell.” He leaned back and nodded, “Yes, I think it might be just right, except…”

  Harlow’s head swung around and she looked at him. “Except? Except what?”

  “I don’t see the ladder.”

  “The ladder?” Harlow asked, confused.

  “A tree this tall should definitely come with a ladder.” Harris said, decidedly.

  “Ha-ha.” Harlow faked a laugh through the genuine one that bubbled up. Then smiled slyly, “We have a ladder. And that’s what you are for.”

  She skipped away before he could ask if she was serious, then he looked up at the tree he’d almost commented was too tall, but decided she’d probably had taller.

  “What I’m for. Right,” Harris said to himself, and looked down, resigned.

  Well, he thought, if he died or seriously injured himself decorating a tree the size of Paul Bunyan, at least it would be a good story. And he’d be in the presence of the most mesmerizing and enchanting woman he’d ever met.

  And better yet, the sooner they got decorating the sooner he could schedule that strategy meeting. Maybe it was worth the risk after all.

  CHAPTER 11

  Harris had thought the house was impressive when he’d arrived earlier that evening. Then, the light from the sun had still been shining, and shadows cast from the trees danced lightly over the exquisite façade. But now, as they turned into the curved drive, he didn’t have words to describe the enchanting view now that day had turned to night.

  Snow-covered lanterns burned like fire, flickering in the dark. The crystal chandelier that hung from the wooden dome in the entrance looked like a captured star exploding rainbow reflections on the walls and through the windows to be seen from the outside. Lights from the halls of the house gave off a distant amber glow that could be seen from the bedroom windows that lined the front of the house.

  “It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Harlow asked, her simple words filled with sincerity.

  “I’ve never seen anything quite like it.” Harris admitted. He had passed the homes on Summit many times. He lived next to impressive brick houses in his gated community – success and hard work had given him that.

  But this? This was something different. It was all of the beauty of the past – Christmases past, he thought grinning to himself – standing tall and immaculate in Christmas present.

  “I feel that way every single time I come home. I have to pinch myself a little bit. Even having grown up with this house, in this house, I still can’t believe it.” Harlow looked at Harris when he’d slowed and came to a stop.

  “Well, are you ready?” she asked.

  Harris looked up, his eyes climbing the stone steps, and took a deep breath. When they’d asked if he wanted the tree nursery staff to put the base on the two trees they were able to take home with them, he’d refused, wanting to be macho. The only reason he’d given in was due to Harlow’s insistence it’s how her family had done it for years. Now he was thankful all they had to do was struggle to get it up the stairs. And, he thought, one of them up multiple flights of stairs. Maybe he could talk her out of the bedroom idea, but he guessed probably not.

  At that thought he watched Harlow cheer and jump out of the car with the enthusiasm of a child. Here we go. Harris pushed his door open and joined her on the outside wondering just how to get these things down.

  __

  An hour and two breaks later, they had the trees set up. One in the great room, and one, because ‘of course it has to be up there,’ in Harlow’s bedroom.

  Harlow looked at the grandfather clock sitting in the living room where they plopped after retreating to the couch, both offering loud huffs as they made impact with the large pouf cushions. When they heard their simultaneous reactions, they couldn’t control their exhausted laughs.

  Harlow noticed it was after eight. She’d been enjoying herself, actually having fun, with a man she no longer considered a complete stranger. But she didn’t want to wear him out on the first day. That is, if he even intended on coming back.

  “It’s getting late.” She moved her head to the side so she could see his profile. It was a good profile. A wide, strong, square face, with a straight-line profile. “You’re welcome to dinner, but I don’t want to keep you.”

  Harris shifted his head so they were face-to-face. “Dinner sounds great, but I should probably get going.”

  The pang of disappointment hung in her chest and she wondered if he was already finding a place in her heart. That was where she felt the feeling coming from, wasn’t it?

  “I have a pretty busy week, but I’m free Friday. They’ll have the tree delivered by then. If you’re free, we can decorate?” he asked with a grin.

  Harlow smiled as she recalled her second Christmas wish. She wouldn’t have suggested it herself out of pride. And not wanting to request his services when, in this one night, he’d already done so much.

  But since he offered, and she longed for it, she couldn’t refuse.

  “Friday sounds wonderful,” she confirmed, and watched him push away from the couch. He did a turn in the living room and shook his head again in disbelief. She felt proud of his reaction. Not boastful, not from superiority, but because of the hard work she’d known had contributed to building this house – this home. And she
learned, in people’s disbelief, was appreciation.

  Harlow fell into step behind Harris as they navigated to the door. She grabbed his jacket and hat from the iron coat tree while he slid on his shoes. When he reached for the handle, she didn’t know what to say so she just said, “Thank you.”

  Harris smiled genuinely and thought how strange it was that this beautiful woman, in this huge house, could be standing there thanking him. But in the short hours he’d spent with her, he was starting to understand. She wanted to be surrounded by people. Needed the same magical feeling of love she so fondly remembered as a child. And, he realized, she was stirring something in him as well.

  And for that, he agreed. “Thank you, too.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Harlow curled her hair in long carrot-red waves, wore a green plaid print dress, and donned her red toggle coat to match her red lips. She skipped into the office and only stopped humming Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer to laugh at herself for splashing her gingerbread latte out of her cup.

  She continued her tune straight through the office, pausing only to wish Sally, Jacquelyn, Ryan, Vanessa, and Lisa a Merry Christmas as she floated by each desk. She halted briefly when she crossed the threshold of her office to mimic Santa in a deep jolly tone.

  “Rudolph with your nose so bright, won’t you guide my sleigh tonight?”

  The audience exchanged bright-eyed, amused looks, then shooed Lisa into the office with waves of their hands, and a pointer-finger from Ryan, that just said go!

  Lisa skirted around her desk and nearly got hit in the face with the red stocking cap that flew toward the hook next to the door.

  “Okay,” Lisa laughed, “What has gotten into you?”

  “Why, whatever do you mean?” Harlow smiled sweetly and quietly started her humming again.

  “Oh my God, you’re turning into that crazy Christmas lady from The Nutcracker. You can’t cope, so you’re freaking out and faking happiness. Before you know it, you’re going to turn all of us into toys and take over the seven kingdoms.” Lisa looked up, wondering if she’d gotten the movie reference right in her sleepless stupor.

  “Her name is the Sugar Plum Fairy, and I’m not turning into her. Nor am I attempting a takeover of the four realms.” Harlow’s eyes danced with laughter at her friend. “But, I am taking over,” Harlow looked up and started using her fingers to count the rooms as she imagined walking through her home, “six, twelve, thirteen, fourteen,” her words sounded small, “fifteen…sixteen rooms of The Hill!”

  “I think a takeover isn’t necessary seeing as you already live there, yes?” Lisa asked, amused and enjoying her friends’ excitement, and casually wondering if she’d gotten the seven kingdoms from Lord of the Rings or one of the other epic fantasies Steve made her watch with him this time of the year. In-home movies were the closest thing they could get to date night these days.

  Harlow finished a sip of her latte, crossed her legs, and leaned in, “I am taking them over and filling them with Christmas magic!” She threw her arms up and cheered, then brought them down and added, “Or, I will be, Friday. When Harris comes back to help me. In the meantime, I’ll try and haul as many boxes up from the basement as I can.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa. No, no. You can’t move onto boxes. Did you just say, ‘When Harris comes back?’ Like, Harris was there already? Helped you? And with what? And is Harris a man?” Lisa finished then got up, circled the chair she was sitting in, and dragged it closer to Harlow’s desk.

  When Lisa sat back down, she placed her notepad and coffee on the desk and waited. She crossed her legs and held her knee to indicate the patience she would have, and that she’d wait – and not move – until she was given something.

  “Okay.” Harlow broke.

  It was one word, and at it, both of the girls leaned in and hovered over the desk for a much needed, delicious round of gossip.

  Harlow explained everything from the embarrassing postbox run-in, to finding her Christmas magic resolve, and Harris adorably showing up at her door with a wreath, and embarking on a Christmas tree shopping extravaganza.

  “He stuck with you through all of it?” Lisa asked, not believing anybody could have embodied the patience it would have taken to shop for something as important as a Christmas tree with Harlow – much less three. She’d need to meet this guy.

  “He did. He was sweet, gave advice, let me lead, offered to get hot chocolate and mini donuts – though by that time we were both starving and hadn’t eaten since lunch. But he made it. He told me this sweet story about him and his dad and believing in Santa Claus.” Harlow felt her face go dreamy but she couldn’t help it, even though she knew it would lead to what Lisa would ask next.

  “You like him.”

  Harlow noted it wasn’t a question, but a determination. She thought about it for a minute then nodded, slowly at first.

  “I like him. He was very nice, respectful, kind of funny, and you can tell he loves The Hill. That gets me, you know? When they have a soft spot,” Harlow admitted and Lisa nodded.

  Yes, Lisa thought, she knew, and grinned.

  “Well, are you going to tell me what he looks like?” Lisa finally asked since Harlow hadn’t offered.

  “Imagine a young Brad Pitt mixed with your favorite hockey player. Handsome, cute, square, and sturdy.”

  Lisa cracked up, “Did you just say ‘square?’”

  “Yes!” Harlow copied Lisa’s laugh but defended herself, “Like a nice, boxy rectangle. Ha! That’s so much worse,” she exclaimed. “He’s skinny but he doesn’t look like a beanpole. I know you know what I’m trying to say.”

  “I do, but it’s just so fun letting you try and explain it,” Lisa admitted with an innocent smile. “Wait, Christmas tree shopping.” Lisa couldn’t believe she hadn’t put it together. “He answered your Christmas letter?”

  “I have my very own, Christmas-wish-fulfiller-man, provided graciously by what I can only assume, was Santa.”

  CHAPTER 13

  One snowfall, five event site visits, thirty boxes (until she stopped counting), and one berry-colored poinsettia delivered Thursday afternoon with a card that read:

  To add to the magic.

  See you tomorrow.

  Always,

  Harris Porter, Christmas wish aficionado and extraordinaire

  Now it was Friday, and she still couldn’t keep the smile from rounding her freckled, blushed cheeks at the thought.

  Harlow had made an excuse to move her final Friday afternoon meeting to Monday so she could head home and make sure everything was in place for when Harris arrived. Or at least that’s what she’d told herself.

  Harlow ran out of her bathroom with wet hair spraying behind her. She paused only to sniff the tree they’d hauled up a week earlier, then she grabbed the robe off her bed, swung it on, and ran back into the bathroom to dry her hair. Her finger tapped her phone screen to check the time and to click the volume up so Michael Bublé could be heard over the blowing of her dryer.

  As the blood rushed to her head from flipping it upside-down to finish the drying she wondered if Harris would stay for dinner. If he would want to order in, or embark on the adventure of cooking together.

  She stood up and flicked the dryer off. Harlow wondered if it would be strange, navigating the kitchen with another person. A man.

  Her last boyfriend, Andrew, always insisted on going to his place. Harlow hadn’t admitted it then, but she’d hated it there. It wasn’t the size of the St. Paul apartment she didn’t like, it was how cold and impersonal it felt when she was there. There weren’t pictures, art, or any sense of home. And his kitchen had made the meal that ended up marking the end of their relationship – thank God.

  Was it weird, then, that she wanted to make dinner with Harris? Something about him seemed good and sincere. A little uptight, and clearly wanted to carry a certain image.

  What was it? she thought. Was it importance? Success? Class? It seemed natural and forced all at the sa
me time.

  Maybe while they made dinner she’d have to learn a little more about her Christmas wish-granter extraordinaire.

  It was decided then, they’d make dinner. It was her Christmas wish after all.

  __

  The tree looked magnificent in the foyer. Harris tried to think of the right word but none of the others seemed to do it justice.

  “It’s good, right?” Harlow asked, as she held her hands in front of her, nervous that her excitement was a little too much.

  “Good? It’s unbelievable. I can’t believe how perfect it looks in here. Amazing. Magnificent,” he decided, nodding in her direction and grinning at the little bounce she did while fiddling with her fingers. She really did love this, he thought.

  “It is. You’re right. Magnificent.” Harlow agreed. “Are you ready to get started? Oh, and how do you feel about dinner? Have you eaten?”

  “Dinner sounds great. Should we get started then break when we feel we are too famished to go on?” Harris asked.

  “Yes! But we can’t hardly decorate a tree without refreshments.”

  “No truer words have ever been spoken. What have you got?” Harris cringed at his question. “I should have brought something. I didn’t even think about it.”

  “You mailed me poinsettia Christmas magic yesterday, I think you’re covered for tonight.”

  “Fair enough – and I’ll take what I can,” Harris agreed, and found that he liked that she liked the poinsettia.

  He had found himself unable to leave it behind when he saw the bright red leaves. Everything about it – the vibrant way the petals mixed their reds together on the table, the playful way they bounced as people shuffled in and out of the isles and grazed them as they walked by – it reminded him of her.

  He was finding she was on his mind more and more. Harris was sure it was just the silliness of the season. And if that was the case, why not just let her linger there for the time being. Besides, it had made him a bit happier, and made him enjoy everything just a bit more.