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They had climbed up and down the ladder, strung bright white and amber colored lights. More strings of lights than he had put on any tree in his lifetime – combined.
But he had to admit, when they’d turned it on, it had the desired effect. He was getting excited to put the ornaments on. When he started moving toward the boxes that had ORNAMENTS written on the sides in giant letters, her voice had him stopping.
“As much as I consider wine a meal, and it has been on multiple occasions – more than I’m willing to admit – I think I might require real food. Are you feeling like you could eat?” Harlow asked as she peeked out from around the other side of the tree, talking loud enough to be heard over the speakers that were allowing a holiday mix of oldies and new goodies to be heard throughout the house.
Harris paused long enough to realize he was really hungry. He glanced at his watch and saw it was almost seven. He mirrored her peeking motion around the tree and said, “I am more than feeling like I could eat. What’s for dinner?”
“Whatever we want. Let’s go look.” Harlow stepped into view and held out a hand so she could lead him toward the kitchen.
When he took her outstretched hand, Harris was glad she’d excitedly turned away to lead them through the dining room toward what he would describe as the butler’s pantry, and into the kitchen.
Instead, he felt how her hand seemed so comfortable in his. He tried to push it away and tell himself it was innocent, and that it wasn’t the first time she’d dragged him behind her. Hadn’t she done the same thing the first time they’d met? So why now, after he’d spent more time with her, after it shouldn’t be strange, was it that he was feeling affected by their touching? The realization that he was overanalyzing their hands followed his eyes in a roll back to reality.
The first thing he noticed in the kitchen was a never-ending line of upper and lower Cherrywood cabinets, and an island that spanned the length of the room. Three enormous, sparkling chandeliers hung over the island.
Just some of your run-of-the-mill pendant lighting, he thought, as he shook his head at his internal sarcasm, smiling in spite of himself.
“Okay, we have pasta with endless sauce possibilities. We could have breakfast. Or–” Harlow trailed off, her mouth starting to water at the idea of pancakes or French toast but she was cut off.
“Did you say breakfast?” Harris asked, intrigued at the mention.
“I might have.”
“Like crispy bacon, sausage, eggs, and hash browns?” Harris walked toward her until they were face-to-face.
Harlow arched a brow with intrigue and nodded slowly as she worked her way through his list. “Yes,” she admitted, not having thought about the wonderful savory additions, “all of those, as long as we can make pancakes or French toast as the perfect sweet accompaniment.”
Harris bent his knees slightly and leaned back while saying, “Mm, I haven’t had French toast in years. It’s a deal. Breakfast for dinner.”
“Breakfast for dinner!” Harlow’s voice matched her skip to the fridge, and she heard Harris clap his hands and rub them together – a sure sign he was ready to get down to business.
How great to have gotten somebody like him to fulfill her Christmas wishes. He was making it so fun. And, she thought as she scoured the fridge for eggs, milk, and cream, he was the most handsome man she’d ever spent the holidays with. All two days they’d spent together – so far.
“What are those?”
Harlow watched a flare of concern flash across Harris’s face at the question.
“They are eggs, milk, and cream.” She couldn’t help the smile.
“What do we need those for?” Harris asked, genuinely concerned at what he’d signed up for.
“The French toast. How did you make the French toast the last time you had it?”
“The toaster?” Harris asked rather than stated. As if asking if that was an acceptable way to make French toast.
Harlow laughed and nodded. “Though extremely efficient, I think what we’ll have tonight will be slightly better. Dare I say it, you might never again crave a freezer French toast.”
“If that’s a challenge, I accept.” Harris bowed in acceptance, rolled up his sleeves, and moved toward her, ready for his first assignment.
The pearly island top appeared yellow where the egg mixture had spilled and splattered out of the bowl while they whisked. Grease droplets speckled the enormous double gas range from the salty bacon. And the otherwise smooth counter surface was rough to the touch with breadcrumb from slicing thick cuts of ciabatta before they were left to soak.
Run Run Rudolph let out a blare of rock and roll and Harris couldn’t help but do his best impersonation of his dad rocking and flying fingers across a fake piano.
Harlow squealed out an excited laugh at the sight and joined in, pausing only to freeze and belt out the catchy tune, then they danced around like fools while tending to the fragrant meal.
Harris waited for Harlow to finish flipping a caramelly looking toast before grabbing her hand and whirling her around in a mixture of spins and twists. He pulled her close, swung her out, then lifted their arms over their heads and slid out until their hands caught them before they fell away.
Laughter was the only interruption to their words straight through the song. On the final note, Harris pulled Harlow close and dipped her low. Harlow’s head fell back as she tried to catch her breath through the joy and heartbeats pumping through her body.
When she lifted her head, their eyes met and they smiled. Their laugh turned to chuckles as the moment captured them, unable to move, enraptured in a stare.
“You’ve got nice moves, Harris Porter.” Harlow smirked and wondered if Harris realized just how much fun he was having. She hoped as much as she was. “I wonder if I might ask where they came from?”
Harris grinned at the question as joyful memories found their way in once more. “My dad,” he started, while moving the bacon from the sizzling pan to a paper towel-covered plate, “I suppose, both mom and dad, when they used to dance. Not just around Christmas, but I remember it more vividly at that time. Dad refused to let us get sucked into the commercial side of Christmas and forced us to do things as a family.”
Harlow sneaked a glance in his direction, wanting to see his face. Did it bother him, the family time, or was he remembering it fondly? Because even as he said those first couple of words she found herself longing for a moment like that.
“At the time I rolled my eyes.” Harris looked at her, catching Harlow in her studying gaze. “But now, as I remember or think about those moments, it makes me happy. Back then I’d think my dad was such a dork, but after a minute I’d forget all about it and we’d all be joining in, mom and dad, my sisters and me.” He let out a breathy laugh and said, “I like getting to do that again, it’s been a long time.”
The admission wasn’t hard, but the realization at just how long it had been tugged at his heart. He wasn’t blind to see Harlow was the one bringing it out of him, either. Her crazy Christmas wish was bringing a flood of memories back, and he was finding he hadn’t realized he was missing them.
Just then, without thinking and while standing side-by-side over the stove, Harris leaned over and kissed Harlow on the cheek, lingering just enough to let it warm and to see her close her eyes and lean into it just a bit.
CHAPTER 14
They ate on the floor of living room, sitting around the piles of food they’d set on the square coffee table. Elf played on the television in the background but they’d hardly watched a minute of it.
“Who would have thought.” Harris let his mind work with the sweet sensations in his mouth from the last bite of French toast. “Cream, vanilla, syrup, and cinnamon – all to make French toast. A damn good French toast.”
“I’m glad you like it. You were a very fine kitchen assistant,” Harlow agreed professionally, pretending like she remembered more than just the kiss he’d placed on her cheek.
It had only been two days, but she already knew she was going to miss him when he was gone. So, she wouldn’t think about it and just enjoy.
“‘Like it’ might be a vast understatement. It’s the best I’ve ever had. And assistant?” Harris covered his heart as if wounded and joked, “I cooked that bacon all by myself.”
“I stand corrected,” Harlow agreed. “Executive, kitchen assistant.”
“I’ll hold the title proudly.” Harris sat up a bit straighter accepting the title and the pride that came along with it. “So, do we start with the ornaments?” he asked while he stacked plates to take back to the kitchen.
Harlow did the same and let the squish of the pillow she’d been sitting on bounce her up and down, then stood and agreed, “Ornaments! Then the rest of the room. Then,” Harlow moved her finger to the right, “the other rooms.”
Harris nodded and stated his thoughts out loud, “We are going to need more than one day. We are going to need a weekend decorating extravaganza.”
Harlow didn’t want to get her hopes up, but the idea made her giddy. She even hoped for more snow. Not enough to hinder travel from Harris’ house to hers, but enough to make it beautiful to add to the wonder the weekend would bring – if he was being serious.
“Are you sure?” she asked as they set plates in the sink. “I don’t want to over-Christmas you in one weekend. There were a lot of things on that list. And really, if you feel like it gets to be too much, I get it. This is a lot to ask of somebody. And you’ve already made it so fun.”
“I’ll let you know when my wonder wears out. Until then, if you don’t have any plans, I think we have a winter-filled weekend ahead of us.”
“If you’re sure…”
“As sure as I am that I know the real Santa Claus.” Harris paused, then continued at her questioning stare. “I know the real Santa Claus,” he confirmed, then walked back through the pantry and the dining room, where she’d taken him to enter the kitchen, and found the foyer.
Harlow watched him navigate the floorplan like a man on a decorating mission. How cute was this guy? Santa really knows how to pick ‘em.
She saw Harris heave a box off of a stack and onto the floor to dig in, then covered the giggle with her hand when she heard him yell as if she’d been across the house to ensure she heard him.
“C’mon! Let’s get some music rollin’ and work up an appetite for hot chocolate!” Then, before the music could begin, he started to sing his own version of Blue Christmas and turned to put the first ornament on the tree.
CHAPTER 15
Harris walked into work Monday humming the same Blue Christmas song he’d let linger in his head throughout the weekend. He did a quick little tap-dance to stomp off his soggy shoes a couple times on the mat then shuffled his feet in tune to his hum.
Nancy watched the show from her perch then started clapping in applause accompanied by a hoot and holler.
“You’re a regular Elvis.” Her quick laughs came out as crisp as the weather.
“I’ll be here all week.” Harris gave a bow and shared in her amusement. He’d known Nancy too long to be embarrassed that she’d caught him, and even then he didn’t really know if he cared.
“Merry Christmas!” Santa cheered as he walked into the building behind Harris.
“Merry Christmas!” the two said in unison.
“By the look of you both, I missed something fun. I do enjoy everything fun.” Santa stopped and let his belly wiggle like jelly as he Ho-Ho’d. “I have more letters for you, Mrs. Nancy. It’s a full one today. Seems we had another great weekend.”
Harris thought to his own weekend and grinned while agreeing with Santa, “It seems we did.”
Though his thoughts drifted to a certain red-head with porcelain skin. And to the way her skin didn’t so much blush, but kind of glowed as it warmed. He’d seen it after he’d kissed her cheek in the kitchen. The idea had him thinking about spending more than just the holidays with Harlow.
Harris wondered if he had the time for both work and an amazing woman. He’d never had to worry about that before – never wanted to. Or, rather, never let anything get far enough to.
He was making sure their family created wealth and that generations after him could benefit from it. That people would know their name. That his father and the fathers before him, the risks they took, and the poor life they endured wouldn’t happen to their family ever again.
The stories his dad had told him and his sisters when they were young brought a healthy respect for work, and for him, the incurable drive for more – more business, more profit, more money. And, he thought, the more they made, the more they could give.
“Harris,” Santa started and rested a hand on his shoulder, “your father tells me you’ve enlisted your services in a Christmas letter of your own. It seems it’s going well?”
Harris cleared his throat wondering if Santa had been reading his mind. “It is. It’s going very well. I’d-” Harris paused at the words he was about to say, but they fell out because he wasn’t able to find more that could replace them, “well, it’s been a long time since I’ve stopped to enjoy certain moments of the Christmas season.”
His words were genuine. More than once Harlow had encouraged the joy and excitement he’d felt as a child around Christmas, and he’d brought those thoughts – and more – home with him at night.
He’d even stopped to get his own tree. It didn’t have any ornaments, but he’d strung bright green and white lights all around it and kept it on all night so he could wake up to the glow of them. Just as he had when he was a boy.
“It’s a good thing you’re doing. I have a good feeling about this. I believe when you help one, you end up helping many. It seems giving has a sort of ripple effect,” Santa said and looked over to Nancy when she agreed whole-heartedly with what he was saying.
“Well, I better be on my way. Lots of Santa duties this time of year.”
Santa walked away humming the tune to Blue Christmas, and had Nancy and Harris looking after him wondering if he had heard them just moments before, or if it was pure coincidence he’d picked the same melody for his own that day.
“He’ll never stop amazing me,” Nancy said. “And, neither will you.” She eyed Harris.
“What do you mean?” he asked absently, wondering what he did that she thought was amazing. It took a lot to impress the likes of Nancy Lawson.
“Usually you’re all business. Walk in, dutiful hello’s, then straight up to work. This is a side of you I don’t know if I’ve ever seen. Don’t start thinking about it. You’ve always been perfectly wonderful, this is just,” Nancy thought, not usually one to have to search for words, “brighter.” Nancy beamed to match her word.
“Brighter.” Harris bobbed his head back and forth as if contemplating the adjective. He thought it seemed like a description he would have given Harlow and smiled at the thought. Yeah, he’d take it. “I like it. It seems bright is a good thing to be around the holidays, don’t you think?”
He asked the question as he came around to place a sweet kiss on her cheek. At the way Nancy reddened and giggled unexpectedly, he decided in that moment he would appreciate her just a bit more. He always had, but now he’d make more of an effort to show it.
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The ambition and drive to work hadn’t lost its edge amidst all of the holiday fluff. It seemed the energy he’d found in the season was lending well to the amount of work Harris had to get done in the office.
He and Brandon had met earlier that morning. In the one week he’d given Brandon to start moving forward with the collaboration, he’d identified budget resources, a tentative schedule that would go through a round of approvals, and the different farms and businesses that would potentially benefit from the collaboration.
This could really help a lot of people, he thought as he spun his chair around and took in the St. Paul skyline. To the normal eye the overcast haze would have seemed gray and gloomy, but to his i
t was silver and prepping for dusting of snow.
“I don’t know if I’ve ever seen your chair facing that direction.” Charles Porter walked into the room as Harris smirked and turned his chair back around, “You’re usually face-down in something more important than what’s going on out there.”
“I think snow is very important at this time of year,” Harris said, wondering if that was a line he’d ever thought, much less said out loud. He figured most Minnesotans might disagree – or agree for a little while, but adamantly disagree when an April blizzard swept across the state burying any hope of spring.
Charles eyed his son while nodding. He didn’t want to comment that Harris had never paid attention to the weather or its effect on the holidays before. But he wouldn’t say it out loud.
“How’s everything going?” Charles wondered if they’d made progress on the collaboration and, if he admitted it, was a little surprised he wasn’t briefed on it already that morning. He wasn’t in a hurry, but usually his son would have had something on the calendar before he could even sit down and enjoy the last bit of his coffee.
“It’s great – better than great,” Harris confirmed. “It’s been fun to get to spend time with Harlow. We’ve put up trees, decorated them, decorated the house. When we’ve needed a break we’ve cooked meals to Christmas music and had hot chocolate. I’m pleasantly surprised at how this assignment has played out. This coming weekend we are ice skating with a couple of her friends.” Harris looked at his dad sideways and wondered aloud, “I can’t remember the last time I’ve been ice skating...”
Charles stared at Harris with one side of his lip twisted up in amusement. It took him a couple seconds to shift gears and follow along. He had been expecting an update on the collaboration, and Harris was giving him a recount of the Christmas letter he’d been answering.
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