Finding Christmas

by Karen Schaler

Sam proudly held it up to the door. “Right here, because this is a Christmas Spirit Wreath and this way anyone who walks by can see it and get a little Christmas spirit.”

  Candace gave the wreath a Scroogy look that only grew when she saw the explosion of Christmas decorations in Sam’s living room. When she turned to face Sam, he almost laughed at the look of disbelief on her face.

  “What’s going on?” Candace demanded. “It looks like the Grinch stole Christmas and brought everything here!”

  Sam laughed as he followed her stare. “That’s a great description. I’ll have to use it in one of my books.” Carefully leaning the wreath against the wall, he walked over and picked up a string of Christmas lights. “I’m decorating.”

  Candace shot him a deadpan look. “I can see that.” She marched over to the dining room table and snatched the nutcracker off his laptop. “What I don’t see is you working on your next book. You’ve already missed two deadlines to get the publisher an outline, a synopsis—anything explaining what your next book is going to be about.”

  “I know,” Sam said as he took the nutcracker out of her hand and carefully placed it down next to his computer.

  Candace put her hands on her hips and locked eyes with him. “What do you have so far?”

  Sam felt his stomach tighten. He looked away from her and quickly maneuvered around her so he could go over to the pile of garland. He picked up the long strand and headed for the fireplace.

  Candace was right on his heels. “Sam, I need an answer. How far are you?” Her no-nonsense voice overpowered the cheerful Christmas music.

  Sam fought not to show how stressed out he felt. Instead, he concentrated on putting the garland on the fireplace mantel. But Candace wasn’t about to be ignored.

  “Sam! Seriously, what’s going on?” she asked.

  When Sam headed for the kitchen, Candace tried to follow but got tangled up in some lights on the floor and tripped, falling onto the couch. “Seriously? Have you booby-trapped this place?”

  Sam’s laugh was even louder than Candace’s roar. “Did you just say booby trap? Who says that?”

  Candace was battling the lights wrapped around her ankle. “Look, you’re the word master, not me. Oh, wait, that’s when you’re actually writing, because lately I haven’t seen anything from you. Not a word,” Candace said as she pointed a finger at him. “So don’t you be giving me a hard time.”

  Sam tried to fight back another laugh but failed. When he sat down next to her and tried to help untangle her, she winced. Sam immediately grew concerned. “You okay?”

  Candace nodded, looking even more annoyed. “I just twisted my ankle a little when I tripped.” She turned to face him. “I take that back. You know what? I’m not okay. You know why? Because I have an author who’s not writing, and it’s a problem. A big problem.”

  Sam stood up and held out his hand to help Candace up and then went into the kitchen and got the Patti’s Pastries box. He opened it and held it out to Candace.

  “This will make you feel better. I just bought a new batch, and you know they’re the best cookies in the city.” Sam took out a gingerbread boy and held it out to her.

  But Candace ignored the cookie. Instead, she took the pastry box from him and shut the lid. “What I know is that your time is up. I’m not kidding, Sam. This is serious. The publisher isn’t messing around anymore. They want to see something from you, and they want to see it now. So I need the outline you promised me. Enough of all this Christmas stuff. Do you have something for me or not?”

  Sam accidentally snapped the head off the gingerbread cookie he was holding. He hastily put both pieces down on the counter and finally met Candace’s stare. “No,” he said. “I don’t have anything.”

  There was a moment of silence as Candace stared back at him. Then she let out a pained sigh. “How far along are you?”

  Sam picked up a box of red and green glass Christmas ball ornaments. He held up a red one. “Which do you like better, the red or the green?”

  Candace impatiently put down the pastry box and took the ornament from him. “Sam, I’m serious.”

  Sam put down the ornaments and took the red one from her. He knew just how serious she was, and right now it was exhausting.

  “Candace, you’re always serious,” he said. “You’re my agent. Work your magic. Buy me some more time.”

  Candace locked eyes with him. “Do you have anything? Have you even started?”

  To put some space between them, Sam walked over to his window and looked out at Lake Union. He could see the ripple of wind on the water. When a sailboat glided by, he wished he were on it.

  “Sam?” Candace asked in a voice that clearly showed she was losing her patience.

  “No,” he finally answered her in a flat voice. He hated disappointing her. When he turned to face her and saw the concerned look on her face, it only made him feel worse. It was so much easier to deal with the impatient, bossy, and demanding Candace. The kind and concerned Candace always made him feel guilty when he knew he wasn’t giving her what she needed from him.

  More than anything, he wanted to smile back at her now and tell her everything was going to be okay, but the trouble was, he didn’t know if that was true anymore, and he was scared, really scared, because he didn’t know if he’d even be able to write again like he used to.

  “Sam, what is it?” Candace asked in a voice that was a bit softer.

  He felt like she could read his mind. Sometimes he thought she knew him better than he knew himself. He watched as she picked up a picture off the table. It was a picture of him and his sister when they were little, standing by a Christmas tree.

  She walked over to him and gently put her hand on his shoulder. “I know you’ve had a hard time writing since your sister passed away last Christmas.”

  “Candace, please.” Hearing those words was a direct hit to his heart.

  She moved closer and put her arm around him. “But you have to keep writing. It’s what you do. It’s who you are.”

  Sam, struggling, picked up a silver star ornament that sparkled with Swarovski crystals. It glistened when it caught the light.

  “You know Katie was the one I always bounced ideas off of. Ever since we were kids, she would read everything I wrote.” He held out the star to Candace. “She was my guiding light. Without her, when I try and write, I just feel . . . lost.”

  Candace’s eyes softened. “I understand. I really do. I know it’s been hard losing Katie. I loved her, too, but she was a fighter. She fought so hard to beat cancer. She never gave up, and I know she wouldn’t want you giving up on your writing. She believed in you and she was so proud of you.”

  Sam inhaled deeply and looked into Candace’s eyes. “I know. I’m just . . . stuck.” He looked around the room. “That’s why I’m doing all this. Decorating. It’s what Katie and I always did together at Christmas. I guess it’s my way of keeping her with me. The more Christmas things I do, the closer I feel to her, and it doesn’t hurt so much.”

  “Then decorate,” Candace said. “Buy all the decorations you want. You can even come over and decorate my place, but you need to start writing again.”

  Candace took both of Sam’s hands and looked into his eyes. “Sam, as your agent and your friend, I need you to listen to me and hear me. This is it. If you don’t get an outline for your next book to the publisher by January first, they’re canceling your book series.”

  Sam, stunned, let go of both her hands. “Can they do that?”

  “Yes, you’ve broken your contract. They can’t wait any longer. They need the outline by January first. That’s their final deadline.”

  Stressed, Sam raked his fingers through his hair. “But I don’t have anything good to outline.”

  “Sam, you’re a bestselling mystery writer. Everything you write is good.”

  Candace picked up the pastry box of gingerbread boy cookies and headed for the door. This time she expertly dodged the multiple strands of
Christmas lights.

  “I have a few ideas I’ll send over to you.” She held up the pastry box. “I’m taking these with me. You need to stop eating all this sugar and start eating healthier. I need you clearheaded this weekend. We have a lot of work to do.”

  Sam still looked concerned.

  Candace paused halfway out the door and looked back at him. “It’s going to be okay. You’re not alone in this. We’re a team and we can do this. We can do this.”

  Sam gave her a grateful look. “Thank you, Candace. Thank you for everything.”

  “Start writing,” Candace said. “Just sit down and write anything that comes to your mind. It doesn’t have to be anything you’ll ever use. Don’t overthink it. Just start writing and something will come to you. Okay?”

  Sam nodded and looked over at his computer. “Okay.”

  “I know what I’m going to send you that will help. I’ll check in later. Now get to work.”

  After Candace shut the door, Sam stood for a moment looking at it and then looked over again at his computer. Where usually his computer was like his best friend, now it only seemed to mock him. He let out a long sigh. He was determined to try to do what Candace asked, to just try to write anything to get going. He walked over and picked up the nutcracker that was standing guard next to his computer.

  He smiled a little as he studied it. It was dressed in a traditional regal red military jacket paired with bright yellow pants and shiny black boots. It had long snow-white hair sticking out from under its gold crown, and it was holding a glittering gold sword. Somehow it managed to look fierce and festive all at the same time.

  Sam opened his computer and looked at the nutcracker. “She said to write anything that comes to mind.” He stared at the blank screen for several seconds, then pounded out one word—cookies—and shut his laptop.

  BY THE TIME Sam got to Patti’s Pastries, he was lucky to get the last five gingerbread boy cookies. When the girl behind the counter went to wrap up his box with the traditional pink satin ribbon, he quickly stopped her.

  “Wait, hold on one second,” Sam said. He quickly snagged a cookie out of the box and bit off the cookie’s right leg. His smile grew as he instantly felt better. Christmas cookies always seemed to fix everything. “I’m addicted to these cookies. They remind me of the ones my grandma used to make.” Sam shut the lid on the box. “Now you can go ahead and wrap up the box.”

  The girl behind the counter grinned back at him. “We’ll have more in the morning if you want to come back.”

  “Oh, trust me. I’ll be back,” Sam said. “Thanks. Merry Christmas!”

  “Merry Christmas,” the girl answered.

  Sam took another bite of his cookie as he headed out the door. He knew exactly where he needed to go next.

  WHEN SAM ARRIVED at the Fir Ever Christmas tree lot, he was determined not to leave the lot until he had a Christmas tree so he could finally put up all his decorations and then hopefully concentrate on coming up with his next book idea. He knew he owed it to Candace and himself to do everything possible to try to start writing again and save his career before it was too late. The clock was ticking . . .

  He had found the Fir Ever Christmas tree lot because it was so close to Seascape Floral and he liked its festive feel. The lot was lit up with dozens of strands of shimmering Christmas lights that were strung overhead, making you feel like you were shopping for your tree in a forest, underneath the stars. Usually he would go with his sister into the woods and chop down their own Christmas tree, but this year with his being so far behind on his deadline, he knew Katie would understand if he cheated a little by buying a tree that someone else had already cut down.

  He couldn’t help but smile as he looked around the lot. Cheerful Christmas music was playing and all the lot attendants were wearing Santa hats and handing out hot apple cider. The way the smell of the cider’s sweet spices mingled with the fragrance of the fresh evergreens was true aromatherapy of the nostalgic Christmas kind.

  As he wandered around the lot, he was surprised by how many trees were still left with its being so close to Christmas. There were noble and grand fir and some blue spruce, and of course, the local favorite, the Douglas fir, with the Pacific Northwest being the world’s largest producer of those beloved beauties.

  When Sam had researched the Douglas fir for one of his mystery novels, he’d been surprised to learn that they weren’t fir trees at all. They were actually an evergreen, in the pine family, given the scientific name of Pseudotsuga, meaning “false hemlock.” He’d also learned that Douglas firs keep their needles all year long and can live at least five hundred years and often up to a thousand years. The Douglas fir was what he’d always cut down with his sister, so there was no question that was the kind of tree he needed this year and would continue to get every year from now on.

  It didn’t take him long to spot the perfect tree. He was always a firm believer in when you know, you know, and looking at this almost six-foot Douglas fir, he knew Katie would have loved it, so he did, too.

  As he was walking toward the tree, Bing Crosby’s “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas” started playing. It was one of his sister’s favorite songs. Instead of making him sad, it made him feel closer to her. Looking up into the sky and seeing all the twinkling Christmas lights, he smiled and felt as if she was with him. He looked back at the tree.

  “Looks like you’ve just found your Christmas home.”

  Chapter Four

  As Emmie headed down the hall toward Grant’s law office, she fluffed up the red-and-green-plaid bow on the Christmas Spirit Wreath she was carrying. She wanted it to look perfect and couldn’t wait to give it to him and kick off what she knew was going to be a very special vacation for them. She had planned down to the last detail to make sure everything was going to be perfect for their first Christmas together.

  She had met Grant last January when he’d helped with a children’s charity event for the Alpine Community Center that she owned and worked at as the director. Grant’s law firm had been one of the sponsors of the event. After the event, he’d asked her out to dinner to talk about other ways his firm could support the center, and they had been together ever since.

  Usually she didn’t have time to date. She always put the community center first. Helping the people who needed it most by running the center was a 24/7 job that didn’t leave her much time for a personal life, but that was okay with her. She knew this is what she was meant to be doing.

  The center was started by her parents, who had dedicated their lives to helping people. After they were tragically killed in a car crash five years ago, Emmie left her job in public relations and took over running the center, wanting to continue her parents’ legacy. For Emmie, the last few years had gone by in a blur. There wasn’t a day she didn’t face a new challenge fighting to find ways to keep the center open, but the families she helped made it all worth it.

  Grant was in his mid-thirties, the same age as she was. He looked like the guy who would be voted Prom King. He was tall, blond, and brown-eyed and carried himself with confidence. He was also just as busy as she was, and that’s why their relationship worked. They understood each other’s crazy work schedules and supported each other’s ambitions.

  Grant was on track to make partner at his firm and was always looking for more community projects to be involved in. When he reached out to her at the charity event to help him find more ways his firm could contribute to the center, they had started working together on various projects. Their friendship had quickly turned into something more, and before Emmie knew what had happened, they were dating. Emmie appreciated that Grant understood her hectic work schedule, and he appreciated that she also understood all the long hours he had to put in at his job. This mutual understanding was the foundation of their relationship. Even though they didn’t get to spend as much time together as Emmie would have liked, when they did, they always made the most of it.

  But when October had
rolled around, the time of the year she always started celebrating Christmas, Emmie knew she needed to share with Grant why the holiday was so important to her. It was their first Christmas together, and she wanted and needed him to understand that her passion for all the decorations and the Christmas activities went much deeper than just having some holiday fun. She had a strong emotional connection to Christmas. Christmas and what it meant to her family was a huge part of her life. So she had been relieved when Grant had agreed to carve out enough time so they could have one holiday-themed vacation together where he could learn more about why Christmas was so meaningful to her.

  When Emmie arrived outside Grant’s office, she peeked in and saw him working diligently on his computer. Seeing that he looked a little stressed, she smiled, because she knew just how to cheer him up.

  “Surprise!” she called out merrily as she strolled into the office and proudly held up the Christmas Spirit Wreath.

  Startled, Grant looked up from his computer. He stood up quickly and checked his phone.

  “Did I miss something?” he asked and frowned. “Were we scheduled for lunch? I thought we were doing dinner.”

  Emmie laughed as she walked toward him. “No, I just wanted to bring you this!” She held the wreath up to Grant. “Merry Christmas!”

  When Grant looked at the wreath it wasn’t in a “Wow, this is cool” kind of way, but in more of a “Why in the world are you bringing me this?” manner.

  Emmie carefully handed it to him. “It’s a Christmas Spirit Wreath. Isn’t it amazing?”

  As Grant awkwardly held the wreath, he didn’t look amazed. He looked uncomfortable. He held it as far as he could from himself, like he was worried about it damaging his designer suit.

  “Oh, wait.” Emmie dug her hand into the wreath and found the switch to turn the white twinkling lights on. They didn’t let her down. They sparkled beautifully. “There. See, it even has lights. How perfect is that?”

  Grant laughed at her enthusiasm. “What did you say it was? A spirit wreath?”