Deck the Halls

by Leah Sanders

  Kate waved her phone lightly. “My list is growing by the minute. Between Mrs. Hall and Jake, I should finish today’s assignments sometime after…” She pretended to look at an imaginary watch on her wrist. “…January twelfth.”

  Luca tipped his head, angling toward her on the bench. “May I ask you something, Ms. Curtis?”

  The formal way he addressed her sounded strange, but she realized he hadn’t called her by name the whole morning, and they hadn’t had an opportunity to discuss anything different.

  She must have frowned because he seemed to repent of his question and straightened in his seat.

  “I’m sorry. I guess I should mind my own business.”

  “No, no,” Kate said maybe a little too quickly, putting her hand on his forearm for just a second and then pulling it away. She shook her head. “I was just thinking… well, I mean, you called me Ms. Curtis, and I was thinking how weird it sounded… you know, since I call you by your first name. I mean, I don’t even know your last name, so that makes sense—well, I imagine you probably don’t want guests to know your last name for privacy reasons—but I just mean—” She pulled in a deep breath, realizing that she probably sounded like a babbling idiot. Exhaling it all at once, she closed her eyes and began again, slower. “Would you mind calling me Kate, or would that be crossing the line of professionalism?” She opened just one eye and peeked at him, inwardly cringing at her own apparent lunacy.

  A brilliant wide smile spread over his face. “I would love to… Kate.”

  “Phew. Okay.” Kate allowed her other eye to open, and she grinned at him. “Thank you.”

  “So, about the question…” Luca began.

  “Oh! Yes, of course!” She leaned forward in interest.

  Luca stared at her for a moment, seeming to rethink his petition. Took a breath as if to start, then just as quickly closed his mouth and continued to look at her.

  Kate shifted in her seat with a sudden jolt of nervous energy. She giggled. Then sat up straight again, staring right back at him. She tilted her head in confusion.

  “Um, what’s the question?”

  Luca exhaled in evident resolve. “Mr. Adams… um, Jake. You can feel free not to answer if it’s too personal, but there seems to be some intense disdain for the man whenever he comes up in conversation.”

  Kate looked down at her jeans and picked a piece of lint off her knee, then brushed twice at the fabric for good measure. “Hmm, intense disdain. That’s a very astute observation actually. Though I use the term passionate revulsion myself.” She looked at Luca again. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure what the questions was.”

  “Oh, yes, I am just wondering if there is a specific reason for it. Again… you don’t have to answer if it’s too personal. I was just curious and, frankly, a little afraid. I wouldn’t want to find myself on the wrong side of your favor.”

  “Well, if you want the whole story, we have a two-hour train ride ahead of us. But the short version is that I thought he was someone entirely different than he actually is, and luckily, I figured out the truth before anything irreparable happened, and now I simply find him a vile and disgusting human being.”

  “Good enough,” said Luca.

  The train clattered to a stop and the squeal of the brakes outside the station doors brought their attention back to the task at hand.

  “I’ll get the cart, if you will carry my case,” Luca said, handing her his brown leather messenger bag.

  “Deal.” Kate took it from him, and together they boarded the train.

  IT WAS CLOSE TO two o’clock when Kate knocked on Mrs. Hall’s door. The bellhop waited behind her with the cart of luggage.

  When the door swung open, Jake stood in the threshold, resting his forearm on the door frame. “Hello, Kate. Miss me?” He winked and blew her a kiss.

  Kate’s stomach churned. If she had eaten lunch, there might have been an incident, so she thanked God for the small favor.

  “Jake,” she said in a flat greeting, then waited for him to move.

  He didn’t.

  “May we come in please? We have your luggage.”

  The hint of impatience wasn’t lost on him, and Jake made a great showing of taking his sweet time to step back and open the door just wide enough for them the pass through with the cart. Then he called over his shoulder in a sing-songy voice, “Oh, Mother, Kate is back.”

  From somewhere in the suite, Kate heard Mrs. Hall mutter something incomprehensible, and then she appeared striding purposefully into the room, with two hands up to her ear, clasping her earring. “It’s about time. I expected you a half an hour ago, Kate.”

  Kate knew better than to offer an excuse. She led the bellhop into the room and let him unload the cart.

  “All your luggage is in order. I double-checked the claim tickets myself.” She pointed at the cart.

  “And the other things we discussed?”

  “All taken care of.”

  “Good.” She pointed to the side door and addressed the bellhop. “Put the silver cases in there. The blue cases can go in the other room.” She turned back to Kate. “I told you I was meeting a few people for dinner, didn’t I, Kate? That will be in the resort’s private banquet room at 6:30. I’ll need my azure evening dress cleaned and pressed right away, and I need you to get on the phone with Paige in New York and have her send the sketches from Milan over to Roger. I want them ready to put on my models the day after Christmas.”

  So much for Mrs. Hall’s vacation. Something must have happened today to motivate such a jump on the upcoming line. Kate scribbled the notes into her phone as Mrs. Hall continued, who rattled off three more tasks before abruptly changing the subject.

  “Oh, before I forget, there’s a Christmas ball here on the 23rd. I will need a gown. I know I didn’t pack anything suitable for the occasion.”

  “There’s a dress shop in town—Dresses by Linda, I think. I overheard Anne Hathaway and her assistant talking about it in the lobby yesterday. Rumor has it, Linda dresses several of the stars. She may have something that will work,” Kate offered.

  “Oh, is Anne here? I haven’t seen her since last spring.” Then more to the point, “I have never heard of Dresses by Linda. Are you sure that’s the name? What’s her last name? Really, Kate, you should have mentioned that to me last night. When it comes to fashion, I should never be the last to know.”

  “I don’t know her last name. I saw the shop yesterday when I was in the village, but I didn’t go in, and honestly, I didn’t think about it again until I saw Ms. Hathaway and her assistant in the lobby.”

  “Well, I don’t want one of her gowns. If she’s as well-known as you say she is, and I am seen in one of her designs instead of my own, I’ll be a laughingstock. Not to mention the backlash it might have on my business. No. I hate to do this to you, Kate, but you’ll have to find me something I can wear without shame.”

  “This afternoon?” Kate tried to cover the frustration in her voice, with only a small degree of success. Fortunately, Mrs. Hall either didn’t notice or didn’t care about Kate’s tone.

  “No. Not today. Tomorrow is fine. There are too many things I need you to attend to here this afternoon. Go ahead and get started on the list I gave you, and I will meet you back here at six.” She waved Kate toward the door, then as an afterthought, added, “See if you can get me a hair appointment for the afternoon of the 23rd. Get whoever is best in town, and I’ll need them to come here. Oh, and while you’re making calls, I’ll need to see Dr. Stucki the moment we get back to New York. Set that up for me, won’t you?”

  And there it was. The dermatologist appointment Kate had known was coming. Luckily, she had Dr. Stucki’s number in her Favorites.

  THE AFTERNOON WAS A whirlwind of phone calls and errands. After delivering Mrs. Hall’s evening dress to the suite, Kate ran back to her room and dressed for dinner. She slipped into her charcoal halter midi dress, and swept her hair up into a French roll, quickly touched up her lipstick, an
d grabbed the charcoal scalloped mid-heels from the closet. She draped her evening shawl over her shoulders, tucked her card key and phone into her clutch, and hurried out the door.

  Her stomach growled as she closed the door behind her. Dinner could not come soon enough. All she’d had to eat all day was a bagel at the airport and a bag of crackers on the train. Why had she not eaten when Luca suggested lunch before they returned to the resort? Oh, that’s right. Because Mrs. Hall had been waiting on her luggage…

  She made her way back to Mrs. Hall’s suite and knocked on the door two minutes before six.

  “You just can’t stay away, can you, Kate?” Jake oozed with false charm as he let her into the room. “And I see you’ve dressed to kill. All this for little old me?”

  Kate didn’t even try to hide it when she rolled her eyes this time.

  Jake’s tie draped loosely around his collar, and he seemed in no rush to finish dressing for dinner as he lifted a bottle of expensive beer to his lips.

  “Are you planning to join your mother for dinner this evening?”

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  Mrs. Hall strode into the room. “Jake! What have you been doing all this time? We are the hosts! We can’t be late for our own dinner party.”

  “I can’t get the knot right.” His voice was whiney, like a five-year-old who should know how to tie his shoes but wants his mama to do it for him.

  “Kate, will you fix his tie please? I just had my nails done.”

  Jake’s smirk told her that was exactly the result he had wanted.

  She shook off the chill of revulsion and did what she was asked, refusing to look him in the eyes, and fighting off the impulse to strangle him with his own tie.

  “Little tight, Kate. Trying to shut off my oxygen supply?” Jake tugged at his collar.

  Kate returned his earlier smirk to tell him that that was exactly what she had wanted.

  “Everyone ready?” Mrs. Hall asked, returning briskly to the room. “Let’s go to dinner.”

  MRS. HALL’S DINNER PARTY was a successful affair. She had chosen a menu of seven fashionable courses, culminating in a gourmet foie gras. Her guests raved about her gown, and they discussed the upcoming holiday ball with great excitement. Of course, Mrs. Hall promised them her gown would be the stuff of legends.

  No pressure, Kate.

  When the evening was over, they headed back to the suite. In the lobby, Jake made a quick excuse about meeting someone for drinks, blew a kiss at Kate, and quickly disappeared into the bar.

  Mrs. Hall was in the middle of telling Kate the schedule for the following day when out of the corner of Kate’s eye, she caught the motion of someone moving toward them.

  “Oh my word!” A thin, sleek brunette gasped and stepped closer, stopping right in front of Kate and Mrs. Hall. “Are you—? Are you Cynthia Skye-Adams?” Her eyes were practically bulging out of her head, and she clutched her throat as if she feared she might have a heart attack at any moment.

  Mrs. Hall offered that half-pleased, half-mortified smile she made when she was pretending to be humble about who she was. As if anyone who knew anything about fashion for the last thirty years wouldn’t recognize her. Kate knew her employer used her husband’s last name to give the appearance of wanting her privacy, but secretly Mrs. Hall was more than pleased to have someone recognize her just as this woman was doing now. Kate knew that, later, Mrs. Hall would talk about how embarrassing it was and how she was hoping that just this once she could have remained incognito, but Kate also knew the truth—Mrs. Hall would have been upset and disappointed for days had no one noticed her.

  “Yes, that is correct. Do you follow fashion?”

  The brunette pushed her way further between the two, interposing herself directly in front of Kate, and cast a nasty glance over her shoulder at her. “Excuse me, you’re in my space.” Then she turned back to Mrs. Hall with the sweetest smile. “I have always been a huge fan of your work, Ms. Skye-Adams, as you can see.” She waved her hand, gesturing from her own head to her toes, showcasing the entire ensemble she was wearing. Every last piece of her outfit was from Mrs. Hall’s latest line.

  Kate cringed inwardly. While Mrs. Hall did love to be recognized, she did not love fangirls. They drew far too much undignified attention, and she was on vacation with her peers. This conversation was already on its last legs, and Kate was the one who would have to put a stop to it. Mrs. Hall hated to be seen as the bad guy in public. That was Kate’s job.

  It was in her contract.

  “I’m Abigail Steppe…” The woman angled herself closer and thrust out her hand to take Mrs. Hall’s. “Do you have new bridal designs? I’m getting married and I’ve been positively dying to get my hands on one of your original wedding gowns!”

  Kate sidestepped the woman and inserted herself between the two, cutting off the assault. “I’m sorry, Ms. Steppe, Ms. Skye-Adams has a prior engagement to attend to, but if you give me your business card, we can get in touch later to send you a few samples of her latest work, maybe discuss the possibility of an exclusive design.” She turned to Mrs. Hall. “We really must be going; you’ll be late for your interview.”

  Of course, it was a lie. Mrs. Hall had nothing on the night’s agenda beyond a glass of red wine and a long bubble bath.

  “I’m so sorry, my dear,” Mrs. Hall said, shaking her head and offering the signature pout from her modeling days. “The fashion world never sleeps, you know.” She smiled and twiddled her fingers in a goodbye, then made a beeline for the elevator.

  Abigail Steppe sighed and stared after her for a moment, then she scowled at Kate like she wasn’t sure why she was still looking at her. “What are you looking at?”

  “Would you like to leave your contact information for Ms. Skye-Adams?”

  “With you? I don’t think so. I’m Abigail Steppe. I don’t deal with underlings.” With that she pivoted on her designer Cynthia Skye-Adams pumps, tossed her mousy brown hair over her shoulder, and disappeared into the bar. A faint squeal and the words “Where’s my Bride Tribe!?” wafted back to the lobby.

  Kate only stared after her in disbelief.

  “What just happened?” a voice behind her whispered. It was Luca.

  Kate whispered back. “I’m not exactly sure… Apparently, Abigail Steppe doesn’t deal with people in my caste.”

  “Who is Abigail Steppe?”

  “I have no blessed idea.”

  “Whoever she is, she had better hope Bernard didn’t witness that little scene.”

  “Why? What would Bernard do?”

  “Bernard is the pillow chocolate guy.”

  “You have a pillow chocolate guy?”

  “Well, he does have other duties.”

  “Why exactly should Abigail Steppe be afraid of the pillow chocolate guy?” Kate, still whispering.

  “He has special chocolates for special guests.” A conspiratorial smirk stretched Luca’s lips. “They never know what hit them.” He winked and left Kate to figure out what he had meant by that.

  When it dawned on her, she frowned, then ran after him. “Luca, hey, what are the chances Bernard will pay a visit to Jake Adams?”

  “If I had to guess, he already has.”

  THE DAY HAD BEEN insanely long and exhausting, but Kate couldn’t sleep. Her mind was too busy mulling over the events of the day and second-guessing every conversation she’d had.

  And then there was Luca. The memory of his face filled her mind. She barely knew him, and yet he was monopolizing her thoughts. The day had started out under a shadow of suspicion where he was concerned—she cringed at the memory of her sweats and lop-sided bun and the chance meeting in the elevator—but by the end of it, he had become a fixture in her reflection of the day. His presence in her life felt natural somehow. Like she’d always known him.

  Kate tossed and turned for an hour under the burden of her thoughts before she finally decided to get up and do something constructive with the time. The be
dside clock read 1:17. She grabbed her sketchbook and pencils, wrapped up in a fuzzy robe and snuck out into the hallway. There was a fireplace in the lobby surrounded by comfortable chairs. That was where she headed.

  LUCA LOGGED OUT OF his computer and pushed back from the desk. His watch read 1:30. Every muscle in his body screamed for sleep. He had been up and working since five o’clock the morning before. One last walk through the lobby, and he would head downstairs for a few hours of sleep. Then do it all again tomorrow.

  He said good night to the night clerk then glanced around the lobby. Not much stirring. There were a few people still in the bar, but everything appeared under control. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw two fuzzy white slippers kicking softly off the edge of one of the overstuffed wingback chairs by the fireplace.

  There usually weren’t guests hanging out in their pajamas in the lobby, so he decided to investigate. If the guest was drunk and lost, he would help her find her way back to where she belonged.

  “Excuse me, mademoiselle. Is everything alright here?”

  The feet stopped kicking, and a familiar face peered up at him and grinned.

  “Ms. Curtis?” he began, then caught his mistake in the reflection of her eyes. “Kate. I would have thought you’d be asleep by now. You’ve had a busy day.”

  She shook her head. “Couldn’t sleep, so I decided to do some—” She rolled her hand to the side revealing a sketch of a half-finished clothing design.

  “Working this late?”

  “It’s not technically work. And I couldn’t sleep anyway.”

  Luca took the sketchbook and studied it. He flipped through some of the pages. What he found there was an amazing portfolio of fashion designs. He was no expert, of course, but he could tell she had a knack for it.