'Twas the Kiss Before Christmas

by Susan Hatler

  For a second he looked like a deer caught in the headlights and I could tell that the kiss had surprised him as much as it had me. Neither of us moved, until Adam’s eyes crinkled at the corners. A zing zipped through my belly.

  Oh, my goodness. I had just kissed my boss! Common sense flooded my body, and I stepped back, trying to appear casual and like it hadn’t been the best kiss I’d ever had.

  “What was that for?” he asked, smiling at me, his eyes full of warmth but also tinged with uncertainty.

  I shrugged, and tried (and failed) to look nonchalant. “That? Oh, I told you, a kiss under the mistletoe is tradition,” I said, as I hung the framed poem in its usual spot. “’Twas the Kiss Before Christmas . . . under the mistletoe.” I smiled, looking around the office. “Anyway, that’s enough decorating for one day, I think. Thanks for your help.”

  “Faith?” he said, his voice low and husky.

  I turned around. “Yes?”

  Adam stared at the poem, before turning to me. “Thank you.”

  The corners of my mouth lifted. “You’re welcome, Adam.”

  As I closed the door behind me, I touched my fingers to my lips, the feel of that kiss still vivid, making me wonder what on earth was going to happen now.

  Chapter Eleven

  I. Was. Mortified! What was I thinking kissing my boss under the mistletoe? If my job had been on the line before the kiss, it was way over the line now. In fact, it was so far over the line that I couldn’t even see the line anymore. And to make matters worse, I kissed Adam right after his phone call with Ms. Sushi Queen.

  But, ohhhh, that kiss. I couldn’t stop replaying it over and over in my head. Wowzers.

  When a woman is in turmoil there’s only one thing she wants. No, not ice cream. . . Okay, well, maybe there are two things a woman wants. Ice cream (pistachio please) and her girlfriends, or, in this case, girlfriend singular (since Morgan had a hot date with Dallas tonight) and that would be Ruby.

  A few text exchanges later and it was set up. Ruby and I would meet for dinner at the Sugar Plum Inn, a quaint bed and breakfast near The Falls that Ruby’s parents, Betty and Randall Curtis, had opened decades ago. In high school, Ruby had told me that her dad always called her mom his “sugar plum fairy” since their first date had been to The Nutcracker ballet and her mom’s favorite scene was the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy. Thus, the name of the inn.

  It amazed me that Ruby’s parents had stayed so tight and in love all of these years, whereas my parents had basically put up with each other until I was off to college. Guilt washed through me at the thought. Why had my parents made me the cause of their obvious misery?

  In the absence of my own parents in Christmas Mountain now, Ruby’s mom looked out for me and made sure I was eating/sleeping/dating enough. If only she would leave eligible bachelors on my porch the way she left her delicious casseroles, we’d have two out of three at least. The thought of an eligible bachelor brought Adam to mind. His dark hair. His icy-blue eyes that sparkled on the sled ride.

  And that kiss.

  I really needed to stop thinking about that kiss.

  But I found it virtually impossible to stop thinking about it.

  “Hi, Mrs. Curtis.” I allowed Ruby’s mom to grab me in a bear hug, before holding me at arm’s length to scrutinize me.

  Apparently satisfied that I wasn’t starving myself to death (as opposed to shriveling up with embarrassment), Mrs. Curtis let go. “I didn’t think you were coming, Faith, what with Ruby being detained at work.”

  “Ruby’s not coming to dinner?” I asked, visions of a giant bowl of ice cream with only one spoon swimming before my eyes.

  “Didn’t she tell you? There was a bit of a disaster with one of the dogs. Apparently there was a Bichon Frise who was in for grooming. The owner asked Ruby if she could have a teddy bear trim. Thinking it was a good opportunity for her trainee to learn a new style, Ruby asked her to start the trim off. Only this girl thought the owner meant B.A.R.E instead of B.E.A.R, and shaved all of the poor dog’s fur off while Ruby was out of the room. The owner was hysterical, apparently. Imagine, no fur in this weather!”

  I put my hand to my mouth, imagining Ruby’s face when she realized. “Not to worry, Mrs. Curtis . . .” I fished my phone out of my pocket, noticing the little envelope sign flashing in the corner of the screen. I opened the message: Stuck at work . . . total disaster! Rain check on dinner? Luv ya. —R. “I’m beat anyway. I’ll see Ruby another time.”

  As I turned to leave, I noticed a man sitting on his own at a small table in the dining room: Adam Kline. I still couldn’t believe I’d kissed him. And that he’d kissed me back. And that I couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss or the fact that he’d kissed me back. Turning quickly, I stumbled into a chair, knocking it onto the floor with a loud whap! Well, there goes my discreet exit. All eyes, including Adam’s, turned to me, and I smiled apologetically, raising my hand in the dorkiest wave ever.

  Adam stared at me uncertainly as I stood in the archway between the reception podium and the pretty, candlelit dining room. All I wanted to do was run, but that would be rude, not to mention childish. Plus, you know, I’d been caught.

  “Hi, Faith.” He stood and gestured me to come over.

  “Oh, hi, Adam,” I said, cursing myself for not having been childish and running for it while I had the chance.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  I stood awkwardly by his chair, noticing that the table was only set for one and feeling ridiculously pleased about it. “I was meeting my friend Ruby here, but she’s had some doggy disaster and had to cancel. So, I’m heading home now.”

  He smiled. “Oh, I’m glad.”

  I frowned. “Glad that I’ve been stood up?”

  “No, I just meant that you’re on your own and I’m on my own . . .” He took a deep breath and grinned. “You’re joking with me, aren’t you?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe a little.”

  “Let me start again. Faith, would you like to join me for dinner?”

  What I wanted was to start jumping for joy. But all I could hear in my head were the immortal and profoundly mortifying words ’Twas the Kiss Before Christmas. I’d made a move on a guy first and I’d never done that in my life. I grimaced.

  “I didn’t realize the prospect of dining with me was that horrific,” he said, pulling me out of my flashback.

  I laughed, despite my discomfort. “Sorry, no, I was just somewhere else . . .” I tapped the side of my head. “I’m just going to grab some takeout, get into my PJs, and watch a movie, I think. But thanks for the offer,” I said, turning to go.

  “Faith. Maybe I should pull rank,” he said, that dimple popping out. “As your boss—”

  “Not for much longer.” It was out before I could stop myself.

  The slightest frown flittered across his handsome face. “As your boss for now, I would very much appreciate you joining me for a working dinner. There are a few things I would like to discuss with you. Don’t think of it as a date.”

  “Shame.”

  “Pardon?”

  Darn, I really hadn’t perfected the art of not thinking out loud. “I said game. Pie. The game pie, it’s very nice.”

  His dimple popped out again, and he pulled out a chair. “Lucky I haven’t ordered yet, then.”

  I sat down and set the napkin across my lap, not meeting Adam’s eyes but could feel him watching me in silence. Fatigue and hunger hit me, and I was glad for the candlelight, which was so much more flattering than artificial lighting.

  Mrs. Curtis bustled over and I handed her the menu without having opened it. “I’ll have the nicoise salad, please, Mrs. Curtis.”

  Adam raised his eyebrows, and then smiled at her. “I’ll take the game pie, please, Mrs. Curtis. I hear it’s delicious.”

  Mrs. Curtis giggled like a schoolgirl. “Oh, we’re famous for it. And please . . . call me Betty. Having a handsome man like you calling me Mrs. Curtis makes me
feel old.”

  Adam laughed. “A lady as beautiful as you will never be old, Betty.”

  Mrs. Curtis . . . Betty (which she never asked me to call her) actually blushed as she hurried back to the kitchen, something I had never seen before. So it wasn’t just me he had this effect on.

  “So tell me, Faith. Why would you recommend the game pie, and then order a salad?”

  I smiled. “You wait until you see it. Besides, I’m watching my figure.”

  “Aren’t we all?”

  He said the last sentence under his breath, but when I looked at him he was busily trying to catch Mrs. Curtis’s attention, pointing to his glass and then to mine, indicating that he would like a second glass brought over. When the bottle arrived, he poured me a generous helping of red wine, half of which I drank in two gulps. At least I would have something more than my embarrassment to blame my red face on now.

  I cleared my throat. “So what would you like to talk about?”

  He took a sip of wine. “You.”

  The flame of the candle between us flickered in his eyes, twin flames dancing as he looked at me.

  My belly did a somersault. “I thought you said it was business?”

  He nodded. “It is. I want to know what Silver Bells means to you.”

  He was interrupted by the arrival of Mrs. Curtis, who placed my salad down in front of me, before returning to the kitchen for Adam’s plate, and when she came back it was clear why it had taken her two journeys. Adam’s plate was huge, and definitely needed two hands to carry it, the pie itself towering over his peas and potatoes, the way The Rockies towered over Montana.

  As he stuck his knife into the pastry, a cloud of steam escaped with a sigh. I knew how it felt.

  “So, where were we?” he asked.

  I took a bite of my salad, hunger battling with fatigue (and also a fear that I would spill salad dressing down my front). “You said you wanted to talk business.”

  “Right, yes. I wanted you to tell me what it is about Silver Bells that’s so special. So . . . magical?”

  I looked at him sharply, but there was no hint of sarcasm in his face as he waited for me to talk. I lifted a shoulder. “It’s simple. . . I love Christmas Mountain. I adore Silver Bells. I don’t want to lose my job.”

  Adam chewed thoughtfully. “You weren’t kidding about this pie, it’s amazing. You could walk into any job, Faith. I’m sure there are many places you’d be interested in. As a matter of fact, I had a phone call today about you.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Oh?”

  He nodded. “A woman named Bernice from It’s All Downhill From Here?”

  I took a sip of wine and nodded. “The ski resort further up the mountain. What did Bernice want?”

  “She said she had heard you might be looking for a new position, and wanted to have first refusal. She asked how many weeks’ notice you would need to give Silver Bells.”

  Wow, news travels fast. “That’s good to know, but I don’t want to work at another ski resort, Adam. Don’t get me wrong, Downhill is a great little ski resort that’s hung in there during the downturn this town’s had. Ruby and I have skied there a few times, but Silver Bells means so much more. I’m flattered, but it’s not for me.”

  “What is it about Silver Bells that has such a hold over you? Don’t humor me with how it’s a great place to work, blah-blah-blah. Talk to me from your heart, not your head.”

  Oh, boy. He was asking me to lay it all on the line.

  I set my knife and fork down side by side and pushed my plate away slightly. Adam filled my glass again and I took a sip, swilling the delicious berry notes around in my mouth before swallowing. “Silver Bells is my home, Adam. I don’t mean the bricks and mortar type, either. They say home is where the heart is. Well, my heart is at Silver Bells.”

  His gaze met mine. “Go on.”

  “When I came back from Washington last Christmas, it was at the request of my friend and mentor, Melody King. She was my choir teacher in middle school and high school. There were seven of us in that choir group and she asked us to sing for her at The Christmas Extravaganza one last time.”

  He nodded. “I remember Ms. King. All of the kids liked her.”

  “She was diagnosed with kidney cancer last year.”

  A line formed between his brows. “How awful. I hadn’t heard.”

  I nodded, knowing the news only got worse. “I think I’d been carrying the hope that she would recover, somehow, because a world without Ms. King in it just didn’t seem possible.”

  “She meant a lot to you,” he said, as a statement and not a question.

  “You have no idea, Adam. She was like a second mom to me. I would tell her things I never even told my own mom. She was there through breakups, makeups, friend trouble, grade trouble, . . . she was my greatest cheerleader. When she died, the one person I needed to turn to for comfort wasn’t there anymore. When Melody King died, a light went out in Christmas Mountain.”

  I fell silent, thinking about the wonderful vibrancy that my former mentor had brought to everything she did. Adam reached out across the table and took my hand, saying nothing, waiting for me to carry on. My hand tingled under his touch, warming my heart.

  “Your dad helped me through my grieving, Adam,” I said, squeezing his hand. “If it hadn’t been for him, I don’t know how I would have survived. Silver Bells was the one place that could soothe me. I went to pieces after she died, and your dad would take me on long treks through the woods, showing me the ropes, letting me join in on the tours with him.”

  My eyes watered and Adam’s thumb began rubbing the top of my hand, back and forth.

  “I didn’t know it at the time, but Mr. Kline was slowly introducing me to the magic of life again, and unknown to me, I was letting it in, despite my fighting against it. He was so gentle, and so patient.”

  Adam’s thumb froze and he nodded.

  I took a large swig of wine. “He was a very special man, Adam. Silver Bells is Larry Kline, and you can’t have one without the other. Destroy Silver Bells, and you destroy his memory.”

  The corners of his mouth turned downward and I cursed myself for allowing the wine to loosen my tongue. He let go of my hand and stared into the candlelight. “I’m envious, Faith. You had the relationship I wanted with my father.”

  I opened my mouth to interrupt him, to apologize.

  “No, don’t get me wrong . . .” His grip tightened on his wine stem as his face filled with emotion. “I’m glad you had him, but I wish I’d known him better.”

  “You never came back to Christmas Mountain after the divorce?”

  He shook his head.

  “I know he came to visit you.”

  “He came to New York periodically, but he was like a fish out of water. New York just didn’t fit him. He belonged here, on the mountain, surrounded by friends, and snow, and Christmas. My biggest regret is not coming back here to see him when I had the chance.” His blue eyes shimmered. “Now it’s too late.”

  I wanted to tell Adam that it was never too late for love. That if he saved Silver Bells his father’s memory would live on, but that would have sounded like I was exploiting his feelings for the sake of my job, even though I really meant it that Silver Bells was Larry Kline.

  “You know he was proud of you, right?”

  His eyebrows rose, but then he shook his head. “He didn’t know me, Faith, and that was my fault. How could he be proud of a son he didn’t know?”

  “Well, let’s see. Five years ago, you won businessman of the year and received the award at The Plaza. That red tie looked great with the gray suit, by the way. Three years ago you started volunteering at a charity to get homeless kids off the streets and back in school.”

  He stared at me, confusion written all over his face. “How did you know . . .?”

  I smiled. “Mr. Kline followed your career, Adam, and he kept every newspaper clipping, every magazine story, every snippet of information he could find ab
out you. All of those empty wall hooks in your office? Those were for the dozens of photos he had of you, from when you were a little boy riding on his back to one taken in New York not long before he died.”

  Adam’s eyes glistened, and I wondered for a moment if I had said too much. Mrs. Curtis had cleared our plates without me even noticing, and returned with a big bowl of ice cream and two spoons. She placed them on the table with a knowing smile. Adam pulled his chair around so he was closer to me, and handed me a spoon.

  “Thank you, Faith. I never knew any of that.”

  I smiled, and held a spoonful of ice cream to his mouth, and as his lips closed around it I was reminded again of our kiss. He seemed to be on the same wavelength, holding out a spoonful of ice cream for me and then wiping a dab of ice cream from the corner of my mouth with his thumb before leaning in closer and closer.

  I closed my eyes, bracing myself for the feel of his mouth on mine again. . .

  “I’m here!” Ruby squealed.

  I jumped at the sound of her voice.

  Adam sprang upright, dropping his spoon onto the table.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I hope I’m not interrupting anything?”

  “No, no, no. I mean, of course not,” I said, thinking she actually had the worst timing ever. “Adam, do you know Ruby Curtis?”

  He shook his head. “Nice to meet you, Ruby.”

  “Likewise,” she said.

  “Rubes, I thought you were stuck at work?”

  Ruby looked from the two spoons on the table to me and then to Adam before answering. “I was, but it’s all good. I see you ate without me?”

  I shook my head. “No, I mean, yes, kind of . . . just having dinner with my boss.”

  Adam gave me a strange look, and then stood, wiping his mouth with his napkin before folding it and placing it on the table. “I’ve got some reading to finish, anyway. Please, have my seat Ruby. Faith, I’ll see you on Monday.”

  And then he was gone.