Christmas had always been a special event in the O’Shea household, as distinctive for the month of celebration leading up to it as for the holiday itself. But Maisie had stopped decorating the house after Molly moved out. The effort had felt like too much for one person and a dog (two this year), and the prospect of a large, decorated, empty house had put a pit in her stomach. So she did her decorating at the shelter, and at home she had nothing but a couple of stockings up for the dogs. Before the conceit of the holiday engagement party, Mary had been after her to celebrate up in Virginia, but even if she’d felt comfortable pawning off all of the Christmas shelter duties, she wouldn’t have gone. Because even if she didn’t decorate anymore, she always lifted a glass of her mother’s eggnog on Christmas. And because she visited their headstones on Christmas day with a wreath from her mother’s favorite florist. And because in her heart, she knew everything was changing. She was ready for change, but that didn’t make it feel any less like the very ground beneath her was quaking.
The day before the “guests” arrived, she settled onto the downstairs couch with a glass of mulled wine and video-called Molly. Chaco curled up at her feet, and Einstein would never settle for anything less than her lap or immediately next to it. Of course, she had to lift him up because his little legs would only take him so far.
Her sister answered immediately, and from the flash of colors and sound around her, it was obvious she was at a bar. A man who looked like a catalog model for a second-rate department store sat on the stool next to her. His expression was slightly flummoxed; her sister looked bored.
“Um, if you’re busy, I can call Mary,” Maisie said.
“Oh no, I can talk.”
The man’s expression went from flummoxed to aggrieved. “I thought this was going well.”
“Blake, here’s a pro tip from someone who’s been on a lot of dates. No one wants to spend half an hour listening to details about your ‘medically necessary’ nose job. Or the fact that you never wear the same underpants. Generally, if you find that you’re the only one talking, something is wrong.”
Maisie held back her laughter…mostly, but a little sputtered out. Ein gave a little yip as if laughing with her.
“But…we just got refills.” Blake waved to their full drinks.
“And this round was on me.” Molly lifted the drink with the hand that wasn’t holding the phone, toasting him. “Now I’m going over there.” She waved the phone, the image going temporarily blurry on Maisie’s side. From what little she could see, there were plenty of empty spaces at the bar. Then again, it was before five in Seattle. Leave it to Molly to go on a date before Happy Hour officially began. “You can stay here or go, but I recommend you finish the drink. The He Sees You When You’re Sleeping is very good. Trust me, I’ve been drinking a lot of them lately.”
Without further ado, she walked away and got settled at the far side of the bar.
“So, how’s it going?” Molly asked eagerly. “Have you talked to Jack?”
“That is a terrifying name for a drink,” Maisie said, “named after what has to be the most disturbing holiday song of all time. I had to ban Dustin from singing it at the shelter.”
“The whole Santa conceit is creepy if you think about it too much. I don’t want anyone to watch me while I’m sleeping.” She raised a hand. “And before you say I used to wish I’d wake up to a sparkly vampire stalker, I was a teenager. Teenagers exercise super bad judgment. And I sense you’re deflecting my question.”
“Maybe,” Maisie admitted. “How are the Twelve Dates of Christmas going?”
Molly laughed, a sound Maisie would never tire of hearing. Her sister’s spirit was irrepressible, although in those long, tearful days after their parents had died, it had felt like there’d be no more laughter for any of them. And the first time they had laughed, their good humor had almost felt like a betrayal.
“Well, you just witnessed part of the latest disaster.”
“Hey!” she heard from the other end of the bar. But it was said sulkily, and Maisie wasn’t worried the man would try to retaliate in any way. Besides, her sister was equipped with Mace and self-defense moves. She could take care of herself.
“Do you intentionally choose people you’re going to dislike?”
Molly’s lips tipped into a little smile. “Sometimes.” She inclined her head a little, as if to indicate Blake was one of those sometimes. “It makes for a better story. The guy I brought here yesterday was a life insurance salesman.” She gave a dramatic shudder.
“Hey! Dustin was an insurance salesman in his pre-Asheville life.” Maisie shrugged. “Although, to be fair, while I love the man, I can’t think of anyone who’d willingly date him.”
“Dustin’s a sweetheart,” Molly said. “This guy kept going on about his brilliant idea to send coffin-shaped postcards out with his sales pitch.”
“Yikes.” Then the other part of her statement penetrated. “Wait, you went to the same bar?”
Molly’s smile stretched wider. “Yeah, it’s part of the story. It’s the same location, but with different dates.”
“That sounds horrible. Are all of them at four in the afternoon?”
“Nah. I’ve experienced this bar at every possible day and time,” Molly said, lifting her drink. “Now tell me what’s going on with you. I see that look on your face. You’re fretting about something.”
“A lot of things actually,” Maisie said, taking a sip of her drink too. “I haven’t seen Jack since last Thursday, but he started texting me.”
He’d had a brewery disaster to deal with on Sunday, some sort of commotion in the tasting room caused by none other than Stella and Lurch. Apparently, Lurch had created a distraction so Stella could remove some of the remaining paintings from Finn and Adalia’s Art Display from the wall and hang up a few of her own in their place. But his idea of a distraction had been to release a rat—a pet rat, as it turned out, and thus easily rounded up, but even so. Dottie had apparently taken him aside and given him a long talking-to. Somehow the incident had ended with one of Stella’s paintings being hung in the tasting room, alongside the much nicer work she’d tried to replace. Maisie had seen a snap of it. The goats were all wearing Santa hats and holding forks and knives, surrounding a frightened-looking hen in lederhosen.
Apparently, it had sold to a tourist within two days for an obscene amount of money, and now Stella had another painting hanging on the wall. It just went to show that karma was a crock.
But she hadn’t learned all of that until later. Her heart had sunk when Iris came in without him, but she’d done her best not to show she was disappointed. The last thing she wanted was for another person to communicate to Iris that she wasn’t enough. Two deadbeat parents had been doing that for her whole life.
Instead, she’d swept Iris up in a wave of enthusiasm and introduced her to their new border collie mix, Alfred, who was going to need a lot of walking.
Iris’s mood was so buoyant it had surprised Maisie.
“What’s gotten into you?” she’d asked.
“I got some good news from back home,” Iris said.
But the good news clearly hadn’t come from her mother, since Maisie already knew from Jack that their mom had basically told them to get lost for the holidays.
“Is that the kind of teenager statement I’m supposed to pursue until you ‘relent’ and tell me what’s going on, or do you genuinely want to keep this quiet?” she asked.
Iris had laughed at that, and buried her face into the dog’s fur.
“I wouldn’t do that until he’s had a bath,” Maisie said. “Dogs have been known to roll around in poop.” When Iris pulled back in horror, she had to laugh. “He’s clean. I’m just messing with you.”
“I’ll tell you,” Iris said. “But not yet.”
“It’s a deal,” Maisie said, and they shook on it. “Just promise me it’s nothing dangerous or illegal.”
“No, it’s nothing like that,” Iris said with
a glow so bright it could light a city block. And because Iris was a good kid, once you got beyond her surface surliness, she believed her. So she hadn’t mentioned anything to Jack when he’d texted to explain why he didn’t show. Not that she’d been able to think of anything but him given he’d ended the Lurch story by saying, I missed seeing you today.
She’d replied: Same. I had the door to the storage closet open in anticipation. I even unearthed an old Santa hat you can wear for a follow-up photo shoot.
It had taken him a while to respond to that, but he’d eventually come back with: I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.
But your situation hasn’t changed.
I’ll be honest: I don’t know what to do here. You make me want more than I can give you right now.
What she wanted was him.
She related all of this to Molly, ending with the fact that they’d been texting, off and on, ever since. Their exchanges were somewhat flirty, because they couldn’t seem to not flirt with each other, but they were mostly conversational, deepening the connection between them. She’d learned he was a voracious reader, something she thought incredibly sexy, and that his sci-fi appetite went beyond Cowboy Bebop. And he was so invested in making the engagement party special for River and Georgie, he’d spent several evenings and weekends planning it, including Tuesday night, the last time Iris had been to the shelter.
“God, men are so stupid,” Molly said with feeling.
“Hey, I’m right here!” someone said in the background.
“I’m not talking about you,” her sister said, rolling her eyes as she projected her voice. “The world does not revolve around you and your thousands of underpants, Blake.” Turning back to the phone, she said, “Well, it’s obvious he has all the feels for you, Maisie. He’s just being dumb. He’ll come around.” She smiled. “Just make sure to ‘accidentally’ lead him under some mistletoe. Did you get him a present?”
“Yeah. I’m getting everyone presents, although Lee, Prescott, and Victoria are all getting the same thing.” She grinned wickedly. “Donations in their names to Dog is Love.” Her gaze fell to Ein and Chaco, snuggling close.
“Diabolical! I love it. And what are you doing for Jack?”
“I haven’t fully decided yet.” She rubbed a finger around the rim of her glass. “But I was thinking about maybe giving him one of Dad’s watches.” Molly’s eyes widened, and Maisie immediately backtracked. “Is that weird? It’s too much, isn’t it? Or is it cheap of me to regift something?”
“No, Dad had some really nice watches, and you know Mary and I already took the things we wanted from the house. This just tells me that you’re really serious about this dude. Not that I blame you. I saw those pictures. Hell, everyone in my office saw those pictures.”
“Yeah, I know,” Maisie said dryly. “I noticed that half of our Instagram traffic was from Seattle. Thanks for reposting them.”
“You did us a favor. People love seeing hot guys holding dogs.”
Maisie felt a little prick of jealousy. But while she didn’t love the thought of other women checking him out, no one could deny the results. It was the best quarter they’d had in a long, long time, and she knew she had Jack and Iris to thank. Well, along with a little assist from Molly.
“It’s not just the watch,” she admitted. “I’ve been going through their things,” she said through the burn in her throat. “I’ve put together a lot of boxes for charity. It seemed like a good thing to do for the holiday. And I’m going to give some of Mom’s vintage stuff to Adalia for her sculptures.” She swallowed. “Most of the furniture’s going to go too. I already went to a couple of places to scope out some new pieces.”
“Oh, Maisie,” Molly said, “you don’t know how happy I am to hear you say that. This is good. This is what Mom and Dad would have wanted.”
“I know that.” And she did. She always had. But for a long time it hadn’t been what she had wanted. There’d been a solace in hanging on.
“Onward and upward,” Molly said, repeating the phrase their dad had always used.
“Onward and upward,” she repeated through her throat, thick with emotion.
“Anyway, I’ve got to go. I need to take an Uber to my next date. This one’s a legit, for-real date.” Maisie heard another aggrieved sound in the background, presumably from Blake. “Get this. The guy’s a hot veterinarian. I know you’d approve.”
“Have fun,” Maisie said. “I love you.”
“Love you the mostest,” Molly said and made a dramatic smooch at the phone before ending the call.
In the wake of their conversation, she felt not just alone but lonely. And the house’s lack of holiday cheer started to bother her. Perhaps it had been a mistake not to decorate. Maybe the only people here were her and Einstein and Chaco, because they certainly counted, but shouldn’t they have some joy too?
If she was going to decorate, it would be much more fun to do it with someone else, but Adalia was busy with preparations for the unwanted guests—if you asked Maisie, Adalia was investing way too much thought into the bachelorette disaster; for the bachelor party, Maisie had booked a tour of the local breweries and called it a day—and Blue had become enmeshed in this Bad Luck Club. Jack had run with his idea of setting the Christmas Eve engagement party as a pop-in, pop-out type event, so at least Blue was coming to that. But she was spending Christmas day with a couple of the other members of her club. Maisie hadn’t asked why she wasn’t spending it with her family instead. She understood without asking that it was the kind of thing Blue would share when she was ready. The holidays were a minefield of emotions for most people.
So instead she tapped her phone for a moment and then texted Jack: Would you and Iris be up for some decorating fun? I need some help from Santa.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Jack studied the text on his phone, then glanced up at his sister, who was icing sugar cookies. It was nearly eight, which was later than he’d usually suggest an outing, but knowing her, she wouldn’t go to bed until midnight or later, and who was he kidding? He really wanted to see Maisie. They’d been texting all week, but he hadn’t seen her since the photo shoot…and the kiss.
And if Iris came with him, he wouldn’t have to worry he’d be on anything but his best behavior.
Which was why he found himself saying, “Hey, Iris. Maisie just texted and invited us to come over to help her decorate for Christmas.”
Her head jerked up, a tube of red icing in hand. “She hasn’t decorated yet? It’s, like, three days before Christmas!”
“Hey,” he said with a shrug. “All I know is what she said.”
She scrunched up her nose. “Why’d she text you and not me?”
He resisted the urge to cringe. “Maybe because it’s so late. She probably wanted to text me to make sure it was okay.”
“Yeah,” she said, shifting her weight to one side. “Maybe.”
“Do you want to go? You didn’t show much interest when Addy and Finn put up the tree a few weeks ago.”
She gave him a guilty look. Adalia and Finn had tried to make decorating the Christmas tree a family activity, complete with warm cider and cookies they’d baked together. Finn’s excitement about the whole thing had almost been comical. According to Adalia, his parents had always used a personal shopper to buy his gifts, which they’d had professionally wrapped. A chef had made their Christmas dinner. None of that sounded especially bad to Jack, but the situation admittedly lacked warmth, something he’d always had from his grandmother. And then with Iris.
But the family-bonding Christmas activity had gone down before Iris’s recent thaw toward Adalia, and his sister had silently put up a couple of ornaments before asking if she could be excused to do homework.
“Well…” she said sheepishly.
He hadn’t meant to make her feel bad, so he jostled her arm and said, “It’s okay, Iris. There was a lot going on and…” He pushed out a sigh. “I get it. That being said, this is up
to you. If you’d rather stay here and decorate your cookies, I’m good with that too.” He grinned. “I will gladly keep eating them.”
“I’m cutting you off anyway,” she said with a laugh. “Three’s plenty. We can’t risk you getting flabby for your puppy pictures.”
He groaned. “You really need to ask Finn and River to do their share. They were Maisie’s friends first.”
“That’s the lamest excuse ever, but I plan to ambush them at the engagement party. Wait until they have some spiked eggnog or whatever, then ask.”
Jack gave her a look. “You know me better than to think I’d willingly serve eggnog. Are you bluffing?”
“I’ll ask them. I promise! But for now, I say we go over and help Maisie. I kind of hate thinking about her decorating her house all alone.” She glanced at the counter, covered with multiple tubes of frosting and stacks of undecorated cookies, as well as finished cookies on cooling racks. “I can pop the icing in the fridge and finish decorating in the morning, but I’ll be leaving a mess.” She made a face. “I don’t want Addy to think I’m a slob.”
He grinned, pleased by this further evidence that she cared what Addy thought of her. “She’s staying with Finn tonight, so I doubt she’ll ever see it, but you can shoot her a text to explain. She’ll understand. In fact, she’ll probably be excited to hear Maisie’s decorating.”
“Okay…you’re right.”
“I’ll text Maisie to let her know we’re coming over.” He picked up his phone and saw the bubble indicating Maisie was typing another message, which appeared before he could type his own response.
Sorry. It’s late. Forget I mentioned it.
Smiling to himself, he typed, Too late to rescind now. We’re coming over. He noticed Iris piling cookies onto a paper plate. Hope you haven’t met your sugar quota of the day.
In what sick world does such a thing exist? she responded.
He grinned again. Do you have a fake tree?
Of course I have one. How can we decorate without a tree?
Let me rephrase that, do you have one that’s less than two decades old?
Getting Lucky Page 19
