Accepting that her fate was signed and sealed, Joy asked, “What is the family’s name, and when are they arriving?”
“Hall. The Halls will be there at eleven. You’ll find the file on my desk. They sent in a shopping list, and the three boys have an allowance of seventy-five dollars per person in their immediate family—their mother, father, stepfather, half siblings, grandparents and themselves. It’s all in the file. Their names, the day’s itinerary and all the other information you’ll need.”
Joy glanced at the clock counting down the minutes she had available before they arrived. Her dark Christmas mood seemed so much bleaker.
“I’m sorr…” More coughing.
“Jamie, don’t you dare apologize. Go to bed, get better. We’ll need you for the after-Christmas rush. Do what you can to enjoy tomorrow.”
“Thanks.”
“Merry Christmas, Jamie.”
“You, too,” Jamie croaked, then hung up.
Joy got up and walked down the hall to Jamie’s office to retrieve the file and desperately tried to think of a way out of this.
There had to be someone—anyone—she could palm the family off on.
She didn’t have to think long.
As she walked back toward her own office, file in hand, she spotted Susan Thomas, her coffee-making assistant manager. Joy decided Susan’s arrival was a sign from above. Why, she didn’t even have to call out and ask Susan to wait because her assistant manager walked into Joy’s office.
It was a spider-and-fly moment for sure.
Susan could handle anything, even a family shopping spree on Christmas Eve.
Yes, Susan could fill in for Jamie and get Joy off the hook.
Feeling better than she had all morning, Joy followed Susan into her own office. She’d hand the Halls off to the Assistant Manager and then savor her cup of coffee before heading into the holiday trenches.
Susan was sitting in the chair in front of Joy’s desk, her head down.
“Hey, Susan,” Joy said as she walked around and took her seat. She put the file down and reached for her coffee when Susan looked up.
Her face was a lovely shade of green that had nothing to do with the holiday outfit she wore, and everything to do with her complexion.
Joy’s momentary optimism collapsed.
“No,” she said firmly, as if forbidding it would cure Susan. “You are not sick, Susan.”
Mind over matter. That’s all Susan needed—a little mental coaching.
“Sorry, Joy, but—” Susan sprang out of the chair and made a mad dash toward the restroom.
Joy headed after her to see if she was okay, all the while knowing that Susan wouldn’t be dealing with the Halls.
Joy would be.
Merry freakin’ Christmas.
“TEN MINUTES. If you’re not in the car, I leave without you.”
Dr. Edward Hall stood waiting by the kitchen door as he listened to what sounded like a herd of cattle stampeding on the house’s second floor. He smiled, despite the fact he hated running late, and since the boys moved in full-time, running late had become status quo.
As an afterthought he called out, “Rule Number Eleven.”
Despite the fact his three sons didn’t own even one punctuality gene between them, he loved being a father.
Always had.
But maybe he’d fallen out of practice with the day-to-day sort of things in the five years since his amicable divorce.
Well, it hadn’t been amicable at first, but he’d worked hard with his ex to do what was best for their boys. And the best meant learning to get along. They had. They’d shared custody and parenting right up until three months ago.
Then the boys had spent most weekday nights with their mom, simply because the continuity made going to school easier. But Ed had kept them weekends, holidays, whenever the opportunity presented itself.
He’d been, and still was, a hands-on father. Being a rheumatologist, meant he had very little in the way of emergency calls, and was able to keep a fairly normal work schedule. Nine to five on weekdays, and Saturday mornings. It was an ideal schedule for a father and he rarely missed the boys’ activities.
He’d coached teams, cheered from sidelines, driven for field trips…just generally been there for the kids.
But everything had changed when Lena’s new husband had been offered a dream job two and half hours away in Raleigh. The boys had been adamant about not leaving Charlotte. They were of an age where their friendships were established and they’d found their niches in their respective schools.
Lena had been stuck between a rock and a hard place.
The boys’ two half siblings were young enough not to care about the move, but for two teens and one almost teen, leaving friends and schools mattered a lot. In the end, Ed and Lena agreed the boys would stay with him full-time during the school year, and spend all the time they could in Raleigh with her. Weekends and holidays, summers whenever possible.
Ed had hired a nurse-practitioner in order to further minimize his workload, and had settled into full-time parenting.
He’d have Christmas Eve, then Christmas morning with them, after which they’d leave to spend a week in Raleigh. But before any of that there was a matter of living through today.
Shopping.
Ed hated it most of the time, but especially hated it on Christmas Eve. The mall would be total chaos, filled with procrastinators. For someone who thrived on being punctual and getting things done ahead of the curve, all those last-minute, crazed shoppers were annoying at best. He’d rather deal with Mrs. Majors, his toughest patient ever, than shop on Christmas Eve.
But there was no help for it. And if he had to go, he was going on time.
“Ten, nine, eight…” He started to count down loudly. It had the desired effect. The trio barreled down the stairs and stood breathless in front of him.
“Where’s the fire, Dad?” Jake, his sixteen-year-old, asked as he pushed his wild brown hair out of his eyes. “I won the contest. They’ll wait if we’re a little late.”
“Son, it’s Christmas Eve, and I’m betting the woman who’s graciously agreed to shop with us today has better things to do than wait around for three boys.”
He looked at his younger two sons, replicas of their older brother. Hair too long, dark eyes filled with mischief. Fifteen and twelve, almost thirteen. In another month he’d be the father of three teens. The thought boggled. He remembered them all as diaper-bottomed babies and felt a swift wave of nostalgia.
“Plus there’s Rule Number Eleven, right Dad?” T.J. asked.
He laughed. “Yes. Life Lesson Number Eleven.” He eyed his two younger sons. “Tim, T.J. You both ready?”
“Yes,” the pair answered in unison.
“Do you think you might need coats? It’s freezing out there. They’re saying it might even snow.”
The boys laughed at his concern.
Ed remembered the days when looking cool mattered more than comfort. Maybe that was the beauty of reaching the ripe old age of forty…comfort won out. He grabbed his leather jacket and just gave the boys his version of the dad-eye.
They seemed particularly unmoved.
“Our sweatshirts are fine,” Jake assured him in a tone that said poor-Dad-he’s-so-out-of-touch. “You’re a doctor, which means you worry too much about us getting sick, ’cause that’s what you work with all day. Sick people.”
“It has nothing to do with being a doctor. It’s just that I’m a dad. Worrying is part of the job,” he corrected. And he knew there was no such thing as worrying too much for a parent, whether he or she was a doctor or not. It came as naturally as breathing. “And I’m a dad who likes being prompt. So everyone in the van.”
“Want me to drive?” Jake asked.
Ed knew the real question was, can-I-drive?
Jake had only had his permit a couple months, and Ed had tried to avoid having him drive when his younger brothers were in the car, but Jake had been doing very
well, and it was Christmas.
He didn’t answer, merely dangled the keys.
Jake snatched them up. “Great. Everyone in the van. And make sure you use your seat belts.”
Ed laughed, despite being late; despite the fact the weather was rotten; despite the fact the boys would go to their mother’s tomorrow afternoon and he’d be left to rattle around the house on his own for the rest of the holiday.
He laughed because, despite the funk he’d been in this week, it was Christmas. He didn’t go back to work until next Wednesday, his boys were healthy, and they were about to shop on the Harrington and Vine’s dime.
The laughter didn’t quite lift his bah-humbuggy mood, but it moved it up a notch closer to a real Christmas spirit.
Even given the uncharacteristic weather and the fact that he had to go shopping Christmas Eve, it wasn’t going to be such a bad day.
As Jake settled into the driver’s seat, Ed began, “Okay, when the weather’s bad, it’s important to turn on—”
“The lights, even though it is ten in the morning. I know, Dad.”
“Let’s go,” T.J. hollered. “I can’t wait to get to the electronics department.”
“Now, remember the rules…” Ed droned rules for polite behavior as they drove to King’s Mall. It was rather like a chorus. His lecture was the lead vocal, while the boys’ groaning provided the harmonies and backup. One part wouldn’t sound nearly as good without the other.
Jake got them to the mall in one piece, and parked the SUV way at the end of a row. Way, way at the end. Ed figured they were lucky to have found a space even if it was in the outer parking limits. He couldn’t believe so many people left their holiday shopping until the last minute, but looking at the crowded parking lot, it was obvious that they had.
Ed led his trio through King’s Mall and into Harrington and Vine’s. The upper-end store was decorated with taste, despite the vast amount of reds and greens that were liberally distributed throughout. Christmas music flooded the sound system, but did little to drown out the general hum of activity from the myriad of last-minute shoppers.
Ed wished the contest would have scheduled this particular shopping trip a bit earlier in the week so as to avoid this tidal wave of late gift buyers.
He hated crowds and…
He tried to beat back his negative thoughts.
This was about the boys, and they certainly had enough excitement buzzing between them to make up for whatever Ed lacked.
“Onward and upward,” he said and was chorused by a trio of groans.
“Come on, Dad. Let’s all try to pretend to be normal for one day,” Jake pleaded as they all headed up the escalator to the second floor, as per the contest instructions.
“I can’t promise anything. But if you three try and behave, so will I.” Ed had found the threat of embarrassing the boys was frequently the key to keeping them from embarrassing him.
“Hello,” he said to the gray-haired woman at the Customer Service desk. “We’re the Halls. We won a contest and were instructed to meet a Jamie Anthony here today at eleven o’clock.”
“Oh, Mr. Hall, we’ve been expecting you. Let me just get Ms. O’Connell for you.”
Ed glanced at the paper which clearly said, Ms. Anthony. “There’s been a change?”
He wondered if the thought of shopping with three boys Christmas Eve had intimidated Ms. Anthony so much she’d palmed them off on a colleague.
But the woman shook her head. “The flu. About a third of the staff is out with it, including Jamie. But don’t you worry. You’ll enjoy Ms. O’Connell.”
He realized the boys were behind him and way too quiet. “Jake, Tim and T.J., if I turn around and see what you’re doing, you’re going to find yourselves grounded on Christmas Eve, so I suggest you stop.” He smiled at the woman. “Sorry.”
“Don’t you worry. I have two of my own, and have started in with grandkids now. I know what it’s like.” She started through a side door. “I’ll be right back. I’m sure you’re anxious to start shopping.”
Anxious?
Ed turned around and the three boys gave him their best angelic looks—looks that didn’t fool him for a second.
If anyone should be anxious, it was the poor Ms. O’Connell who was going to have to shop with them today.
“We didn’t do anything, Dad,” Jake protested.
“Yes he did, but I didn’t,” T.J. assured him. “Him and Tim were…”
Ed’s phone rang midway through the excuses and accusations. He flipped it open and thought about the woman who would be spending the day with them. He hoped she knew what she was in for.
CHAPTER TWO
JOY WAS TRYING, really trying, to work up some holiday enthusiasm for the family she’d be spending the day with as she hurriedly tried to clear paperwork off her desk.
About a half hour ago, she’d even turned on the intercom and listened to the piped-in carols on purpose, trying to remember a time when Christmas music didn’t give her hives. She worked at remembering when carols had signified the holidays—the joy, the surprises, the time with family.
She tried to recall the butterflyish feeling that used to settle in her stomach Christmas Eve morning and last until Christmas Day night.
She tried very hard to remember a time when she would sing the carols every chance she got. She’d jingle bells and hark angels. A time when glowing noses made her day.
All that trying must have worked, because as Betty opened Joy’s door and walked into her office, Joy was humming an ode to Christmas trees with more than a touch of enthusiasm.
“They’re here.” Betty’s voice had a delighted sort of inflection in it.
Joy’s humming stopped abruptly. Betty’s obvious delight filled her with trepidation.
That kind of glee from Betty was rather ominous.
The Customer Service manager had spent the last week praying for the holiday season to end. People coming to the desk during the holiday rush weren’t known for Christmas jolliness. That made Betty’s newly discovered good humor worrisome, and try as she might, the trepidation overrode the almost holiday spirit Joy had just hummed her way into.
“What do you think of them?” Joy asked.
Again, Betty smiled.
It was unnerving.
Really, it was.
“I think you’re going to have your hands full. As the father was introducing himself, the boys were behind him, the two oldest, hanging the youngest upside down.”
“Great,” Joy muttered. “Shopping with a group of boys.”
“And a man,” Betty piped in helpfully.
“And a man,” Joy repeated. “Yeah, that’s just what I need the day before Christmas.”
Yes, her newly acquired almost-holiday-spirit vaporized instantly.
“Actually, maybe it is just what you need,” Betty said. “I think you’ve lost the spirit of the season.”
“Now, isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black? The wreath calling the tree green, maybe. Weren’t you the one just yesterday claiming that Christmas was nothing but a marketing gimmick and you were going to boycott next year? And I’ll have you know, I was actually humming along with the Christmas music when you came in.”
“You’re not humming now.”
“No, because you just told me I’m not taking a nice, well-behaved family around, I’m shepherding a group of boys through the store. I babysat a group of brothers for exactly one summer when I was in high school.”
She’d spent the years since trying her best to block out the memory, but hadn’t succeeded. Water fights, muddy playdates, bee stings and a broken arm when the youngest in the family, Ronny, wearing his favorite superhero cape, decided he was giving up saving the world in favor of being a rugby player and dived on the ball—from the top of the swing set.
That was the day Ronald discovered old baby blanket capes didn’t help rugby players defy the laws of gravity. It was also the day Joy decided she was never babysitting agai
n, no matter how bad her financial straits got. “It was the longest summer of my life.”
When the family asked her to babysit again the next year, she’d turned them down flat and taken her first job at a local department store.
But there was no turning down this brotherly trio.
“Boys,” she said again, knowing the word sounded rather like a swearword.
Betty chuckled her Mrs. Santa sort of laugh, deep and from the belly. “Did you grow up with brothers?”
“No. An only child. But I had cousins. Between them, and babysitting it was enough to convince me boys aren’t really human. Sure, sometimes they grow up to be men, but sometimes they just stay boys their whole lives.”
The last guy she’d dated seriously, was a Peter Pan sort of grown-up boy. His inability to function as an adult was why they’d eventually broken up. Missed dates, never arriving on time, frequently changing jobs—mainly because of the never-on-time part.
What had started out as cute and carefree, eventually became annoying and aggravating. Joy had enough stress in her life and finally decided he wasn’t worth the trouble.
She didn’t really miss him.
That’s not to say she didn’t miss having a man in her life.
She just wasn’t attracted to boys.
And now, today, she had to shop with… “Three, right? Three boys?” she asked, praying Betty would disagree. Maybe she’d misheard Betty and Jamie’s file was wrong. Maybe there was only one boy. And if the three part was right, maybe three girls.
Even two girls and a boy.
But Betty just laughed even harder and nodded. “Yes, three boys. And their father. Since there’s no mom in tow, I’m guessing he’s an eligible man. Just what you need to discover some real Christmas cheer.”
Joy made a snorting sound. “You’re sounding cheerful enough for both of us. What happened to the Ebenezer Betty that’s been working the desk the last few weeks?”
“It’s Christmas Eve and I’m spending the evening with my grandbabies. My cheer’s been quite restored, thank you very much. And here’s hoping yours is, as well, before the day is done.”
Dashing Through the Mall: Santa, BabyAssignment HumbugDeck the Halls Page 18
