by Alina Jacobs
“Are you sure you want two?”
“You ate my Thanksgiving leftovers. Besides, in England, they eat turkey during Christmas, so it seems like it should be considered a Christmas food for our purposes,” Owen said. He pushed his two carts behind me as I guided mine to the dairy section.
“Look at you being a Christmas expert!” I exclaimed, squeezing his arm. “I need to buy you your own collection of sexy holiday outfits.”
“Uh… Change of topic,” Owen said. “How’s the restaurant?”
“Speaking of, I should ask Fiona if she wants to go in on it with me,” I said happily as I loaded armfuls of European butter into the cart. “It’s going to be too much for one person. I have big ambitions.”
“Did you think of a name yet?” Owen asked.
“Names are so hard,” I complained as we headed to fruits and vegetables. “I'm not even sure what kind of food I want to serve,” I said as I placed several squashes into the shopping cart.
“I know I want to serve happy-hour cocktails, especially if there's a hotel in the building. Oh, you know what? I totally want to do bento boxes. Just something portable and yummy people can quickly pick up and take away. I guess I'll also need to find a closer apartment. Fiona's been letting me stay in her apartment, but it's super tiny.”
“I was thinking,” Owen said then trailed off. I looked up at him. “I mean if you want, you're free to live with me. I have a lot of room,” he offered.
“I don't want to impose.”
He took me in his arms. “There's nothing I want more than to have you in my life, in my home, in my bed every day,” Owen whispered.
I melted against him as he kissed me. “I don't know if you want to live with me and all my Christmas stuff,” I said with a laugh after he released me.
“How much can it be?” he teased. “I have a three-story penthouse. I can spare a closet for you.”
“I might need a whole suite,” I admitted.
“I thought you said you had all your stuff with you in a tiny apartment.”
“Eh, yeah?” I looked up at the ceiling. “I have all the Christmas stuff from my grandmother in storage. Like her entire house’s worth of Christmas stuff. It was all my good childhood memories. She made Christmas fun and warm and lovely,” I said, remembering the happy Christmases spent in her home. “She would invite all her friends over who would otherwise be alone for Christmas, and we'd have a big party on Christmas Eve. Then on Christmas Day, we'd visit people in nursing homes or pay house visits to people who were sick.”
Owen was quiet a minute.
“Or I can throw most of it out. I just have to sort through it.”
“It's fine; bring it here.”
“Really?” I said, delighted. “There's so much cool stuff! She used to collect antique Christmas paraphernalia. She even had a piece of cake from a Christmas party Queen Victoria hosted.”
Owen tried not to make a face. “That sounds—”
“Excessive? Yes, I know, but it's a piece of history, and you can't throw it away.”
“You keep it in storage?”
“It’s a special storage unit. Very pricy unfortunately.” I tried not to feel sad. Would I even be able to retrieve all the decorations before the storage facility auctioned everything off?
Owen looked at me in concern. I wasn't going to burden him with my issues. I hadn’t paid the bill. It was my own fault. I refused to have Owen think I was solely after him for his money.
“I don't think I brought enough reusable shopping bags for all of this,” I said as the cashier rang up all the food.
Owen's siblings were waiting in the garage with a luggage cart when we returned.
“Wow, Owen took you in the only practical car he owns,” Jack remarked.
“This also happens to be the only car I own that is not covered in sugar or one of its derivatives,” he said dryly.
“Again, I am sorry about that. Though the bikini car wash offer still stands!” I elbowed Owen. “That perked you up, didn't it?”
Owen's brothers snickered and finished loading up the cart.
The penthouse was just as large and airy as I remembered it. We lugged all the food in. The Christmas decorations were up, and the tree sparkled. It felt homey and festive. Jack's dog, Milo, was playing tug-of-war with Rudolph. They growled playfully around a squeaky snowman toy.
Owen’s younger brothers went back to watching the soccer game on TV while Jonathan poured drinks.
“I was told that there was a Christmas party tomorrow and that you make amazing cookies. I humbly offer myself in service,” Jonathan told me seriously.
“Ignore him,” Jack said. “He can't even cook an egg.”
“Chloe sent you over here by yourself?” Owen asked Jack.
“She's coming later. I told her about your restaurant,” Jack said to me. “She said she'll be happy to help you in any way possible.”
Owen's phone rang, and he went to take the call.
His sister, Belle, smiled at me. “I'm glad you're here. You make Owen really happy.”
“He makes me happy too!”
“The last episode of The Great Christmas Bake-Off is airing later,” she reminded me. “If you're not all baked out!”
“I will never have too much baking. We are so having a viewing party!”
76
Owen
Listening to Holly talk so warmly about her grandmother had given me an idea for a good Christmas present. This was the call I needed to make it happen. I drank a sip of whiskey then answered the phone.
“Thanks for calling me, Morticia.”
She didn't say a word. Her disapproval wafted through the phone.
“I called you because I need a favor,” I continued.
“I did you a solid by not taking a baseball bat to your fancy-pants cars,” she retorted. “I think I showed considerable restraint.”
“Look, we both care about Holly, correct?”
She sighed. “Correct.”
After I did some more begging and promising to never hurt Holly and to treat her like a princess, Morticia finally gave me the information I needed. As I obviously couldn't summon Holly's grandmother here for Christmas, I was going to do the next best thing.
After calling the storage company where Holly's grandmother's things were being held, I was especially glad I’d had the stroke of inspiration. The storage facility said they were owed thousands of dollars on the unit and they were going to auction the unit off in the next few days. I paid the balance due then found a moving company that could have everything at my penthouse by Christmas Eve—tomorrow.
Holly was mixing up a big batch of cookies when I was done with my phone calls.
“Are those the famous sugar cookies?” Oliver asked, padding over to the kitchen island. He reached for my drink. I slapped his hand away.
“You're too young.”
“I'm an adult!” he said, puffing his chest out. Jack and I doubled over laughing.
“Why don't you drink and stir this batter,” Holly said, handing me another bowl. It smelled like gingerbread.
“I'm going to serve some of these as is,” Holly said. “The others I'm using to make gingerbread rum balls. So if you have any rum on hand, give it up!”
I found several bottles and put them on the counter, shoving Oliver out of the way.
“He doesn't even have a palate refined enough for this rum,” Jack scoffed.
Holly took a batch of sugar cookie dough out of the fridge and started rolling it out.
“You can help decorate in a little bit, Oliver,” she said. “I'm making a ton of cookies. We have over a hundred people coming over for the Christmas party.”
“Half of them are the Svenssons, I'm sure,” I said.
“I invited the Holbrooks too!” Holly said with a grin.
“You didn't!” Jack said, horrified. “There is going to be a real fight, not a cute icing fight.”
She laughed. “Kidding! I don’t k
now the whole story, but I know enough that they probably shouldn't be in the same room for long periods of time.”
When the first batch of cookies came out of the oven, Jonathan snagged one.
“They aren't even frosted,” Holly chastised.
“Still amazing.”
After the cookies had been baked and stacked to cool, Holly made cheesy potato gratin for dinner along with herb-crusted beef tenderloin with horseradish cream sauce and green beans.
“Something smells amazing!” Chloe called out. “Hi!” She and Holly hugged.
“This is Jack's almost-fiancée,” I said. In my mind, I was thinking, I'm totally proposing to Holly before Jack does to Chloe.
“I brought some Christmas cupcakes and mini pies I made,” Chloe said, holding out a box. “I didn't bring any savory food, though, so hopefully the boys don’t starve!”
Holly giggled. “Don't worry, I made dinner!”
“Did you decorate too?”
“These are left over from The Great Christmas Bake-Off.”
“I didn't know you were living with the contestants, Owen,” Chloe said.
“I wasn't living here during filming, thankfully,” I replied.
We ate while watching the final episode of The Great Christmas Bake-Off. My brothers laughed whenever I was on the screen.
“Believe it or not,” Belle said, “these are actually his more intelligent comments.”
“I hope you're all good and inspired,” Holly said, “because we have towers of cookies that need to be frosted.”
“Heh. Frost Tower,” Jack said with a laugh.
“You're a Neanderthal,” I told him.
“Chloe, you can drink wine and watch,” Holly said. “I'm sure you're tired of dessert and decorating cookies.”
“Honestly, not really. I've been doing administrative work lately,” she said. “It's really relaxing to bake and decorate cookies. I even came prepared.” She pulled out a monogramed canvas bag embroidered with cookies and holiday wreaths. She unpacked it, revealing several icing tips and a mini icing gun.
Belle handed Jack, Jonathan, and me aprons. “Don't want icing on those expensive suits! Owen's already ruined one today.”
“That wasn't totally his fault!” Holly said, kissing me.
“I've definitely been practicing,” Jack bragged as he started decorating cookies.
“Have you?” I asked. “Because that one looks wonky.”
Jonathan slathered frosting on three cookies then mashed them all together and took a big bite.
“It's a Christmas sandwich,” he said, crumbs flying everywhere.
“It's hilarious,” Chloe said, making a neat little icicle pattern on a Christmas tree cookie. “We have several powerful men who run successful, valuable companies and they can't manage to decorate one little cookie.”
“Jonathan's hedge fund is iffy,” I said.
“Hey, I just bought all those distilleries. My hedge fund will have the last laugh. This time next year, Belle,” he said confidently, “I'll be sponsoring The Great Christmas Bake-Off. Everyone's going to be talking about how my hedge fund is the biggest power player in the northern hemisphere. Let it be known there will be booze,” Jonathan assured us as he slathered way too much icing on another cookie, globs of it dripping on the counter.
Matt scooped some up and was about to flick it at Oliver.
Belle raised her arm, and my brothers and I collectively flinched. She smirked and continued the motion to tuck a strand of her hair back into her braid.
“Now that's power!” Holly said.
“The power of the older sister!” Chloe added.
After Oliver, Matt, and Jonathan had gone off to play video games, Jack and Chloe went home, and Belle went back to her condo, Holly and I sat in the living room in front of the fireplace. I lit a fire and threw a few logs on to burn cheerfully.
“For some reason, I thought this was decorative!” Holly said, snuggling under a large furry blanket. “Who has a working wood-burning fireplace in New York City?”
“I bought this building for a steal a few years back. I went in on it with the Svenssons. The building was built while you were still allowed to have wood-burning fireplaces, and the architect kept the ones here when she designed the penthouse. This used to be a smoking club. High-level employees of the insurance company that previously had its office here used to wine and dine clients up here.”
Christmas carols played softly. The light from the fire reflected off the Christmas-tree ornaments. Holly lay her head against my chest.
“I think this is going to be the best Christmas ever,” she said happily.
“It already is.”
77
Holly
I woke up the next morning bright and early. It was Christmas Eve! Owen was still asleep, and he rolled over next to me. I snuck out of bed and threw open the curtains. It was snowing. I whistled the first bars of “White Christmas,” put A Christmas Story on TV, then started cooking.
First, though, I needed coffee. I was going to make peppermint mochas and a big breakfast for Owen's brothers. Fiona, who had said she was happy to help with the restaurant, had already gone home. Morticia was in Harrogate but was going to be back for the Christmas Eve shindig. I needed all hands on deck.
“Want a peppermint mocha?” I asked Owen as I mixed the chocolate and peppermint into the coffee then topped it with a generous helping of whipped cream and more chocolate sauce.
“Um...”
“Don’t make that face. You drink Bulletproof coffee. This is basically the same thing!”
“Is it?”
Owen took Rudolph out while the breakfast casserole baked. I went and changed. As I was putting on my apron and fixing my makeup, Owen appeared in the doorway. Rudolph was next to him wearing little reindeer antlers.
“Thought you might need some Christmas inspiration.”
“Aww!” I said, touched. “You dressed up Rudolph all for me!”
“Enjoy it, because he’s been itching to scratch them off and chew them up,” he said as he pulled me in for a hug and a kiss.
The timer beeped before we could go too far. The breakfast casserole was done. As I took it out, Owen's younger brothers slumped out into the living room and went for the remote.
“Don't you dare turn that channel,” I said. “The football game doesn't start for hours. Let the Christmas spirit move you!”
They sighed dramatically. I prepped the turkeys for roasting. Owen's kitchen was huge. It held several ovens, more than enough space to cook all the meat and the sides.
“Don't you need help?” Owen asked. He sucked in a breath as if he was about to bellow at his younger brothers to come cook. They were pretending to be playing games on their phones, but I could see they were enjoying the Christmas shows.
“Just leave them. It's just assembly,” I said as I mixed up the filling for the stuffed mushrooms.
Owen's phone rang, and he stepped out of the kitchen for a moment. I heard him say, “Yes, please have them bring it up.” He came back into the kitchen, grinning. A few minutes later, he said, “I have a surprise for you! Come on!”
I wiped my hands and followed him to the front door. Owen opened it, and several men carting boxes walked in.
“Oliver,” Owen called. “Can you show them to the east rooms on the second floor?”
“What in the world?” I said, half in shock. “Those are—” I looked at the labels on the boxes; they were custom Christmas labels in my own handwriting. I opened one of the packages.
“These are my grandmother's decorations!” I started sobbing.
“Merry Christmas,” Owen said softly, petting my hair. “Do you want to put anything up?”
“Just the ornaments,” I said, sniffling and shaking through the sobs.
One of the movers found the box of carefully packed crystal ornaments and set it by the tree.
“These are really pretty,” Owen said as I carefully unpacked them, hangin
g them on the tree, where they glittered. “Better keep them up high so Rudolph doesn't break them.”
“Thank you,” I said. “This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.” I blew my nose.
“You deserve someone who will do nice things for you,” Owen replied.
I wrapped my arms around him, kissing him. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too.” He kissed me again. “Now let's throw a crazy holiday party!”
The holiday party truly was going to be crazy, I decided several hours later as the guests spilled in.
“How was the drive?” Owen asked Walker Svensson as he herded his younger brothers into the penthouse.
“Say hello to Ms. Holly and Mr. Owen,” Walker ordered, “before you descend like locusts onto the food.” The two dozen blond-haired boys were all dressed in slacks and shirts, hair freshly combed above festive little bow ties.
“They're so adorable!”
Davy waved to me. I bent down to his level.
“It's so nice to see you again!”
“Thank you for inviting me,” Davy said and hugged me.
“Did you make chicken tenders?” Henry asked.
“Geez, no,” Walker said, pushing him lightly. “I swear, I don't know what they're doing over there in Harrogate. It's so backcountry. We should move you all to Manhattan.”
“Yes,” Isaac said, pumping his fist.
“No,” Greg retorted, shooing away his remaining younger brothers then abruptly ending a phone call.
“You're in an aggressive mood for Christmas,” Owen remarked.
“That was my brother Crawford,” he spat, “who is not invited to this party.”
“Hi, Holly,” Dana said, hugging me.
“I thought you said no Holbrooks at the party,” Jack said, smiling. Dana kissed him on each cheek, and Gunnar shook Jack’s hand.
