His phone pinged again. “Please.” Seems like Lavinia had gotten involved and scolded Chris to mind his manners. Cole had been on the receiving end of that. His stifled laugh shifted to a groan. He’d have to go, for his aunt and uncle.
Thirty minutes later, shaved and showered, he climbed into the cab of his truck. The traffic between his home and Chris’s was light, but he’d wager that traffic around the mall where Ivy was would be monstrous. Maybe he could sneak away after breakfast and go see her. A glimpse of her pretty face would go a long way toward easing his soul.
Holly was already seated at the kitchen table with a mug of steaming hot cocoa. He propped his fists on his hips and recalled times from his youth when he’d find her just like this, holding her head in her hands, inhaling the deep chocolaty scent, a second mug poured for him. These times usually happened due to a surprise visit from Chris.
Across the room, Lavinia held up a container filled with her homemade cocoa mix. Cole moved toward the coffee pot and made a show of yanking a cup from the cabinet and pouring himself a cup of dark, rich coffee. It was a petty display of temper, one he knew had hurt Lavinia’s feelings. Shame crawled over his skin, chilling him.
With a sigh, he leaned a hip against the counter, took a spoon from a drawer, and dipped it into the container. He stirred a couple spoons of the mix into his coffee, transforming the brew into the best mocha in the world.
Holly eyed him cautiously, sending him a timid smile. “You look tired.”
Breath snorted out his nostrils. “Didn’t sleep well.”
His aunt laid a warm palm on his arm, a sweet gesture she’d used many times in the past when he’d been troubled. Just like now. “Would you like pancakes, Cole? I have some blueberries. Not fresh, but frozen.”
He smiled at Lavinia. “I don’t want you to go to any trouble. I’m not very hungry.”
“Eggs, then? Or oatmeal? I made eggs for Holly.” Even she couldn’t call her his mom.
“Oatmeal would be good. You could toss some of those blueberries in.”
She beamed at him. “Why don’t you sit down? I’ll have it ready in a jiffy.”
He carried his cup to the table, and pulled the chair opposite Holly’s back a couple feet, creating a greater divide between them. He sprawled in the chair, leaning away from her. “Where’s Chris?”
Lavinia laughed. “He’s checking his list.”
Cole rolled his eyes. He knew all about the naughty list on the day after Thanksgiving. More kids made the shift to that list on Black Friday, but typically ended up back on the nice side shortly thereafter. He’d made the trip a couple times himself. Or so Chris had said.
He shook his head. “I can’t believe I buy into this fantasy every year.”
“I could help,” Holly volunteered, half rising out of her seat.
“No need,” Chris claimed as he entered through the swinging door. “It was light this year.”
He nudged Cole on the shoulder as he claimed a seat. A subtle dig to sit up straight and behave. He laid a paper in front of Cole, with one name circled in particular.
“Hang on,” Cole protested. “How’d I end up on the naughty list? I’ve done nothing wrong.”
Chris inclined his head toward Holly. “You’ve done nothing right either.”
“Nope! I won’t be taking the blame for bad shit that happened years ago. When I was just a kid.” Cole surged to his feet.
Holly shrank back in her chair and her face fell into a deep frown. “I’m sorry.”
Chris patted her knuckles with one hand and pointed to Cole’s chair with the other. “Sit down, Cole. We’ll be having this out and fixing it before the weekend is over. We aren’t leaving until it is.”
“I have plans this weekend.” God, for a twenty-seven-year-old, he sounded like a petulant teenager who’d just been grounded until he could be trusted again. He dug in his pocket for his keys. They jingled like Christmas bells when he pulled them free.
“Cancel them,” Chris ordered with steel in his tone. He grabbed the keys from Cole and pocketed them. “This is Christmas and families heal old wounds during this most happy season. Our family will not be different.”
“I’m not a child. I don’t have to listen to you anymore.”
“You will if you know what’s good for you. Your mom needs you right now. Stay and help us, help me…help her.”
Cole scrubbed his hands over his face, but settled back in his seat. Lavinia cupped a tender hand on his shoulder as she set a fragrant bowl of oatmeal on the table in front of him. She returned to the stove to prepare a second bowl for Chris.
The old man smiled his thanks with glittering eyes, then turned his glance on Cole’s phone as it lit with a notification. “I’ll be taking that as well.” It disappeared into Chris’s pocket with the keys before Cole could protest.
Fuming at being treated like a naughty teen, Cole ate in stony silence as Chris, the traitor, asked Holly questions about her plans. No surprise, she had none. Cole rolled his eyes when she claimed she’d stay clean and sober, that she now knew how to deal with temptation. He bit his tongue when Chris offered her a job with the Santa photo operation, claiming it would take some of the burden off Lavinia, since she hadn’t been feeling up to par lately.
That made Cole look sharply at Lavinia, who did seem a little pale under the fluorescent kitchen lights. “Are you sick?” He didn’t like the look of the dark circles under her eyes. He jumped up and went to her side.
Maybe she hadn’t slept any better than him, having Holly back under their roof. At least, Cole assumed she’d slept there.
What if she’d left and had to crash in a shelter or halfway house? That would be less than a cheery way to kick off her new freedom.
Lavinia patted his cheek. “Not at all. I’m just a bit tired. I’ll be right as rain with a little rest.”
It hit Cole just then how old his great-aunt and uncle were. Chris was Holly’s uncle, twenty years older than his mom. Chris and Lavinia had done the holiday season flat out for all the years Cole had lived with them. And since he’d opened his own business, he hadn’t been around as much to help. He recognized that was a burden on them.
“I can pitch in a little more,” he offered. “It’s only for a couple weeks.” He could burn the candle at both ends for the duration. It might mean putting a relationship with Ivy on the back burner, something he didn’t want to do. But this was for Chris and Lavinia, who’d sacrificed a lot to raise him.
“You do need to start learning the family business.” Chris winked at him,
Huh? Did Chris think Cole would be taking over the reins as Santa? No freaking way!
“Holly can help. She needs a job, Cole. You have one. Plus, a new girl. We don’t want to interfere with that,” Lavinia quipped with a wink.
Cole cringed at the look of interest in Holly’s eyes. He didn’t want her anywhere near Ivy.
She cast her gaze downward, as though hiding her hurt feelings, then looked at Chris. “Thank you, I’d like to work in the family business. I never have before.” Holly’s smile seemed sincere.
It would have been hard to have her help with young children when she was drunk or high so much of the time she couldn’t take care of her own young son.
Chris rubbed his palms together gleefully and laughed, his belly shaking in time with the sound. “It’s settled then. You’ll start Sunday morning.” He eyed Cole with a gleam in his eyes that made Cole want to duck for cover. There was more steel in Chris’s tone when he continued, “Now, let’s heal your relationship with your son.”
Twelve
After Cole had left on Tuesday night, following a lingering kiss, but disappointingly nothing more, Ivy had fallen into a deep sleep, where she’d dreamed of being an adult in a packed mall, with Cole coming to her rescue just as she was about to be trampled by a rowdy crowd. Chris had featured in the dream as well, dressed as the jolly old elf, and checking her name on his lists, to see where she fell. Must have
been the nice list, judging by the smile on his face.
She’d awoken Wednesday morning when the alarm blared before the sun rose. She’d shaken off the dream, along with the urge to text Cole bright and early, to invite him to spend Thanksgiving Day watching football with her. She was sure he’d have plans with his family. Plans she wished would include her. She rushed through her shower, knowing the day before Thanksgiving would be hectic. Every display had to be perfect when she left at six PM. While she fluffed the Christmas set, Chris sat on the large green velvet throne talking to a long line of children, hearing their wishes, smiling broadly for every picture. He waved and tossed her a candy cane, but didn’t interrupt his time with the kids to come speak to her.
Thursday had been low-key and solitary. Cole had texted early to invite her for dinner with his people, but in the end, she’d declined. She popped a large bowl of popcorn, watched rom-com movies, and gave thanks for a day off.
Cole had called after eight, to wish her success on Black Friday. It had been the highlight of her day. Well, that and his request to spend Saturday with her, doing whatever her heart desired. She’d joked that he might not be particularly happy watching horror flicks stretched out on her couch.
At six AM on Friday, she pulled into the already jammed parking lot. She let herself into the mall through the maintenance shop door. The crew was already hustling around, trash holders ready to begin the multiple rounds they’d run throughout the day. Daryl immediately rushed her, using the pretext of wishing her a late happy Thanksgiving to hug her tight, letting his hands wander down her back.
She shoved her arms between them and pushed him away. “Uh-uh. You’re making me uncomfortable. Touch me again and I’m reporting you to HR.” She probably should have already reported him to human resources. What was it about her that made her feel like she should give him another chance? She was sick of his advances and innuendo.
His unwelcomed behavior was one more reason to think seriously about starting her own company. She wouldn’t have to put up with the harassment the jerk seemed to think was acceptable. Keeping her shoulders and back stiff, she left the shop and stalked to the office, intent on speaking to the mall manager.
“Pete, I need a minute,” she said when she found him dividing donuts into boxes they’d deliver to the individual shops within the hour.
The manager had flecks of sugar glaze on his cheeks and down his bright red sweater. “It’s going to have to wait until after we deliver these. Grab some gloves and give us a hand.”
The huff of breath she released stirred the hair around her face, but she did as she’d been requested. They were trying to beat the clock and get the donuts out to the merchants before the crowd of shoppers swelled, making it impossible to pass through the concourse with large carts loaded with the sweets.
Once all the boxes were piled on the beat-up orange cargo carts, Ivy inched away toward the back office, intent on avoiding delivery duty. She’d rather join Daryl emptying trash containers. The muted roar of the crowd coming through the glass office door had sweat slipping down her back and her heart thudding uncomfortably.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Roberta demanded, stifling a yawn.
“Um, going to inventory my supplies to be sure I have everything I need to fix the displays after today.” She didn’t care for the way Roberta was scowling at her.
“Uh…negative. You’ll be delivering donuts with me.” She squinted her eyes. “And why are you wearing black? You’re supposed to be in Christmas attire.”
“Sorry? I didn’t get that memo,” she lied. She’d seen the email come across and had deliberately ignored it. She hadn’t worn a single stitch of holiday clothes yet. And though she had several red sweaters in her closet, that’s exactly where they’d stay.
“Good thing I came prepared.” Roberta disappeared into her office and returned holding a top that could have guaranteed Ivy would win the top prize at an ugly Christmas sweater party. “Put this on.”
Ivy held up the brown herringbone tweed sweater with the garish rust and green moose, wearing an equally hideous Christmas sweater. Fringe dangled off the hem and the sleeves.
“Um…pass.” She handed it back.
Roberta looked at her hand as though Ivy was holding a writhing snake. “Put. It. On.”
“I’d rather wear the elf costume,” Ivy muttered as she jerked the shirt over her head. It smelled of mothballs, which Ivy was sure would make her ill.
Never again, she thought. She decided that part of the day she’d spend with Cole tomorrow would include discussing a business plan for her new design business. Even if she never put it into effect, she’d always have it in her back pocket.
Ivy slid into the concrete hallway and through the double doors leading to the mall proper. She squeezed her shoulders together in an effort to make herself as small as possible. The orange cart creaked and screeched like an angry cat as Roberta wheeled it forward, happily singing along with the jaunty carol playing over the public address system.
A blast of warm air bathed Ivy’s face as they emerged into the main concourse. People were everywhere, scurrying and rushing to beat other shoppers as store gates were rolled up and front doors unlocked. She cast a wretched, envious glance at a group of men gathered together in a comfortable seating area. Coffee cups in hand, they watched the crowd, staying out of the fray. Ivy would have traded her left leg to join them.
“Here we go,” Roberta laughed gleefully as she steered the cart to the left. She stopped it at the first store. Grabbing a box from the mountain of other containers, she instructed, “You stay with the cart. I’ll deliver these and be right back.”
Eyeing the throngs of shoppers already in the boutique, and those striding along the concourse, Ivy simply nodded.
A woman carrying several large bags from a department store that had opened at six AM jostled Ivy’s shoulder, unbalancing her. Heart racing, Ivy clutched the rolling cart to steady herself. The shopper rushed down the concourse not bothering with a pardon me or watch out!
“Rude,” Ivy fumed under her breath, hiding her fright under a plastic smile. It wasn’t the last time she’d be bumped or trampled today.
Roberta hurried back. “Moving on!” she said brightly.
Ivy hunched her shoulders again and wheeled the cart forward about fifteen paces to the next shop. Fortunately, most of the crowd parted around them, like water flowing around a boulder in a creek. A couple shoppers tripped over the cart, and one woman stomped on Ivy’s foot while she stood guard.
The crowd continued to swell, with Black Friday bargain hunters pouring in from the parking lot. They reminded her of rats rushing in a sewer. A gnawing pit grew to the size of the Grand Canyon in Ivy’s gut as forward movement turned difficult. Ivy stood on her toes to check their location. When she saw the crowd in front of the toy store, their next stop, her chest constricted as though clamped in a vise. She was unable to draw a deep breath, and reached for the edge of the cart, praying she could stay on her feet.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” a voice blared over an old fashioned megaphone. “We’ve just received a fresh shipment of the Hatching Toothless toys. They’ll be on the shelves momentarily. We are asking for your patience while we stock them.”
With the store manager’s announcement, a noisy cheer rose and the crowd surged forward. Roberta seemed oblivious to the threat posed by the writhing mass and dragged the cart forward, taking Ivy along with it.
All around her, people pushed and shoved, trying to be the first shoppers to reach the newest toy. She’d have had to be a hermit not to know that this was a toy deemed most likely to cause death by trampling. Ivy trembled with fear, her legs shaking like Santa’s belly when he laughed. She gripped the orange cart like a life preserver, aghast that it seemed to be moving along with the tide of crazed shoppers.
Someone smacked into her back, pitching her forward. She lost her grip on the cart and stumbled three steps, running into the chest of
a woman. The woman snarled and shoved her back. Ivy spun with the force of the hit and crashed to the ground, her knees painfully hitting the marble floor. Someone kicked her thigh as they hurried with the crowd. She was buffeted by shopping bags on both sides of her head. Tears of fright and anger pricked her eyes and blurred her vision.
She curled in on herself, reducing the size of the target available to the shoppers in a rush for the latest toy.
This was her nightmare come to life.
A hand wrapped around her bicep. Hope sprung in her chest. Cole! But when she looked up, the saving hand belonged to a man with a scraggly gray beard with ornaments braided into the overgrowth. Light winked off the decorations, rendering his appearance more pagan than anything else.
She cringed away, flashing her arm up. “No!”
“Hey lady, I was only trying to help,” her would-be rescuer claimed as he backed away.
“Sorry. I’m good.” Her knees screamed in agony as she struggled to her feet. The crowd around her thinned but inside the store, she caught a glimpse of Roberta trying to swim against the tide.
“Ivy! Are you okay?” Roberta shrieked.
Ivy pushed a lock of hair from her face and plopped onto the wooden bed of the cart. She closed her eyes, stuck her head between her knees, and tried hard to steady her breath. “I’m okay, I’m okay. I survived.” The whispered mantra didn’t help calm the fear roiling within her chest. Tears flowed unchecked down her cheeks. It was a waking nightmare, one in which Cole hadn’t come to her rescue.
Roberta joined her on the cart, her bright red sweater drooping off one shoulder, her normally-contained hair in complete disarray around her face and a long red scratch on her cheek. “Oh my God! That was insane.”
Ivy gulped, trying to swallow the terror she still hadn’t calmed. Memories of being a frightened six-year-old surfaced like a dragon, spitting fire. “I…” She swallowed convulsively and began again. “I quit!”
The Santa Accident Page 8
