Twelve Days of Christmas

by Debbie Macomber

  “I think people are responding to my blog about Christmas decorations.”

  “Julia, do you have any idea how many people blog about making homemade tree ornaments? You’re no Martha Stewart. You need something fresh and fun. A subject that will pique interest, something different—and frankly, wreathmaking isn’t it.”

  Surely there was a better way to tackle this challenge. Showing kindness to someone she disliked wouldn’t be easy. In addition, she sincerely doubted it would make any difference. The man was annoying, disagreeable, and stubborn.

  “You aren’t saying anything,” Cammie said, interrupting her thoughts. “Which, from experience, I know is a good sign. You’re actually considering doing this, aren’t you?”

  Bouncing her index finger against her mouth, Julia said, “I suppose killing him with kindness is worth a try.”

  “It totally is. And you can title your blog ‘Twelve Days of Christmas.’ ”

  Truthfully, Julia wasn’t convinced this would work.

  Cammie had no reservations, though. “It could inspire an entire movement.”

  “I’ll give it some thought.”

  “Good. Gotta scoot. Scottie’s eating the cat’s food again.”

  Julia smiled as she disconnected, picturing the toddler eagerly stuffing cat food into his mouth while his mother was sidetracked on the phone. Cammie was a great ideas person, and Julia appreciated her friend’s insight.

  Bottom line: Julia didn’t know how much longer she could hold out working in menswear at Macy’s. The holidays were the most challenging. Her hours were long and she was required to work in the wee hours of the morning on Black Friday, which meant she hadn’t been able to fly home for Thanksgiving.

  Spending time with her family over Christmas looked to be a bust, too. Her parents would have been happy to pay for her airfare, but at thirty-one, Julia didn’t feel she should rely on them to pick up the expense. Besides, she had commitments.

  As her church’s pianist, she was needed to accompany the choir. The talented singing group had scheduled a few special appearances, the last of which was coming up this weekend. She was grateful her boss had agreed to let her schedule her hours around those obligations. In addition, Julia was a volunteer for the holiday program at the Boys and Girls Club.

  The bus continued to plug along as her thoughts spun with ideas. Julia gazed out the window, admiring the lights and the window displays along the short route that would take her to the very heart of downtown Seattle. She really did love the holidays. It was a special time of year.

  Maybe she could treat Cain Maddox’s surly mood with extra doses of nice. It would be an interesting test of the power of kindness. As a bonus, she wouldn’t need to stress about content for her blog. She would simply be reporting the results. Easy-peasy.

  But being impulsive had gotten her into trouble before, and so Julia decided to mull it over before making a final decision.

  —

  By the time she returned to her apartment that evening, it was dark and miserable, with drizzling rain and heavy traffic. Her feet hurt and she was exhausted. These long holiday hours at the store were killers.

  Killers. Hmm…her mind automatically went to her neighbor. Killing him with kindness. It was a shame that Cain Maddox was such a killjoy.

  Not wanting to fuss with dinner, she heated a can of soup and ate it with her feet propped up in front of the television. She caught the last of the local news broadcast. The weatherman forecasted more drizzle.

  In the mood for something to lift her spirits, she turned off the television and reached for her phone. A little music was sure to do that. Besides, it would be good to familiarize herself with the songs for the performance coming up this weekend. Scrolling down her playlist, she chose a few classic Christmas carols, the ones the senior citizens seemed to enjoy the most at the choir’s last performance at an assisted-living complex.

  Julia sang along with the music as she washed the few dishes she’d dirtied and tidied her apartment. Music had always soothed her. She sang loudly through her personal favorites: “Silent Night.” “O Little Town of Bethlehem.” “It Came upon a Midnight Clear.”

  She was just about to belt out “Joy to the World” when someone pounded against her door. The knock was sharp and impatient. Determined.

  Oh dear. Julia hoped her singing hadn’t disturbed anyone.

  She opened the door wearing an apologetic smile and was confronted by her nemesis from across the hall. Cain Maddox. She should have known.

  His eyes snapped with irritation.

  “What can I do for you?” she asked, doing her best to remain pleasant.

  He continued to glare at her, his scowl darkening his already shady eyes. It was a shame, too—he was an attractive man, or he could be if he wasn’t constantly frowning. She noticed he had a high forehead above a shapely mouth. Her father claimed a high forehead was a sign of intelligence, which was ridiculous. The only reason he said that was because his forehead was high. The thought caused her to smile.

  “Is anyone dying in here? Because that’s what it sounds like.”

  Holding her temper was a challenge. “Are you referring to my singing?”

  “Tone. It. Down.”

  Not please, not thank you, just a demand.

  With one hand still on her apartment door, Julia met his stare. “It’s music. Christmas music, to be precise.”

  “I know what it is,” he said with a groan, and briefly slammed his eyes shut.

  “Would I be wrong to suggest that a kind, gentle soul such as yourself objects to a few classic Christmas carols?” she asked, ever so sweetly. Her words flowed like warm honey.

  He glared at her as if she’d spoken in a foreign language. “All I ask is that you cut the racket.”

  “Please,” she supplied.

  “Please what?”

  “Please cut the noise,” she said with the warmest of smiles, fake as it was.

  “Whatever.” Cain shook his head as if he found her both irritating and ridiculous. She searched for a witty retort but couldn’t think of anything cutting enough to put him in his place.

  Before she could respond, Cain returned to his own apartment and slammed the door.

  “Well, well,” Julia muttered under her breath as she closed her own door. Perhaps Cammie was right. This man desperately needed help, and she was just the woman to see to it.

  She’d kill him with kindness if it was the last thing she ever did.

  Inspired now, she took out her laptop and sat down on the sofa. Making herself comfortable, she stretched out her legs, crossing her ankles. Booting up her computer, she went to her blog and saw that only fifty people had logged in to read her latest post. So far her efforts weren’t going to impress anyone. Most of those who read her blog were family and friends. The solitary comment had come from her mother.

  Julia’s fingers settled over the keyboard, and she typed away.

  Julia’s Blog

  TWELVE DAYS OF CHRISTMAS

  December 14

  Meet Ebenezer

  * * *

  * * *

  I’m wondering if anyone else has encountered a genuine curmudgeon this Christmas season? The reason I ask is because I believe Ebenezer Scrooge lives in my apartment building. To be fair, he hasn’t shared his views on Christmas with me personally. One look and I can tell this guy doesn’t possess a single ounce of holiday spirit. He just so happens to live directly across the hallway from me, so I’ve run into him on more than one occasion. To put it mildly, he’s not a happy man.

  Just this morning I discovered he was something else:

  A thief.

  I caught him pilfering my newspaper. Really, does it get much lower than that? Well, as a matter of fact, it does. This evening, not more than a few minutes ago, I was confronted by said neighbor demanding that I turn down the Christmas “racket.” I happened to be singing. He claimed it sounded like someone was dying.

  When I complained ab
out him to a friend—and, okay, I’ll admit I was pretty ticked off at the time—it came to me that this coldhearted “neighbor” is a living, breathing Scrooge.

  My friend, who is near and dear to my heart, suggested I kill him with kindness.

  So, my friends, I hope you’ll join me in this little experiment. I fully intend to kill my surly neighbor with the love, joy, and fun of Christmas. Naturally, I will keep his identity confidential, referring to him only as Ebenezer.

  I’m not exactly sure where to start. If you have thoughts or suggestions, please share them below. I’ll be updating this blog every day until Christmas. Hopefully, by then, this Grinch’s heart will have grown a few sizes.

  My expectations are low.

  I’m not convinced kindness can change a person.

  We’ll find out together.

  I welcome your comments and ideas…

  First thing the next morning, Julia checked her blog and smiled when she saw that she already had fifty views and ten shares. To her delight, there were three comments.

  MagpieMurphy: Good luck. This should be interesting.

  That first comment was from a college friend who had faithfully been reading her blog and supporting her efforts.

  The second comment was from a new reader.

  JingleBellGirl: The best gift you can give during the holidays is HOLIDAY CHEER. I’m excited to read your blog. Good luck.

  The last comment was from an unfamiliar name as well. As far as she could see, she had at least two new readers.

  DerekDude120: Don’t waste your time…once an Ebenezer, always an Ebenezer.

  Julia knew exactly what she wanted to do for her first kindness experiment. She’d come up with the idea before falling asleep. She showered and dressed and collected both Cain’s and her newspapers.

  She rode the elevator back up to her floor and then knocked on Cain’s door. She heard a loud bark from the other side, followed by his muffled voice a few moments later. “Who is it?”

  “Your neighbor,” she returned, gushing with charm. “Padden. Julia Padden.” She did a poor imitation of James Bond.

  Silence, followed by “What do you want?”

  “I come bearing gifts.”

  “I’m busy.”

  “No problem. I’ll lean it against your door.”

  “Lean what against my door?”

  “You’ll see. Don’t you like to be surprised?” she called out.

  The door flew open and he stood in front of her, his face covered in shaving cream, with a razor in his hand. His leg blocked Schroeder from jetting into the hallway. The Irish setter’s tail wagged. His master might not be friendly, but Schroeder was. Cain’s gaze narrowed. “I don’t like surprises.”

  “Here’s your newspaper.”

  He grumbled and took it out of her hand and tossed it onto the table next to his door.

  “You’re welcome,” she said pointedly at his lack of appreciation.

  Turning away, she was fairly certain she heard him grumble, and knowing she was getting his goat, she added, “Have a good morning.”

  “Whatever.”

  She grinned. “You say that a lot, don’t you?”

  “Would you mind? I’d like to finish shaving.”

  “Of course.” Julia did her best to keep her voice friendly and good-natured. This was working so well, she could barely stand it. Cammie was right. Kindness was going to torment him, and the truth was, Julie really wanted to annoy him the same way he annoyed her.

  With a game plan in mind, she returned to her apartment and waited until she heard his door open as he left for work. Making it seem like pure coincidence, she stepped out of her apartment at the same time and met him at the elevator.

  “We meet again,” she said in a cheerful voice that would rival Mary Poppins’s.

  His gaze narrowed at her before he looked away.

  She smiled when she noticed he had his morning newspaper tucked under his arm. It was then that she noticed a piece of tissue stuck to his chin. He’d apparently cut himself while shaving. Her eyes widened. “I hope my interruption wasn’t responsible for you nicking your face.”

  “No.” Cain impatiently hit the button for the lobby for the second time, as if that would cause the elevator to descend faster.

  “Those little cuts can be annoying.”

  “So can pesky neighbors,” he muttered.

  Julia smiled. Oh, this was good. “I don’t mean to be pesky. I was just collecting my newspaper and thought I’d get yours at the same time. I’m happy to do that for you. I’ll set it outside your door and give a gentle knock so you know it’s there.”

  “Don’t.”

  “Don’t knock?”

  “Don’t get my newspaper.”

  “Why not? I’m getting my own. It isn’t any trouble.”

  “Just. Don’t.”

  “Okay, if that’s what you want.”

  As soon as they reached the lobby and the elevator doors slid open, Cain made his escape. Looking at him rushing away, one would think he was running for his life.

  “Have a good day,” she called after him and waved. As soon as he was out of sight, she nearly doubled over with laughter. He couldn’t get away from her fast enough. This was turning out better than she’d hoped.

  Feeling like she’d made progress, she decided to treat herself to a latte at the corner Starbucks. Luck was with her, and she noticed that Cain was three people ahead of her in line.

  Unable to resist, she called out loud enough for him and the entire crowd to hear. “Cain, I didn’t know you came here for coffee. I can pick one up for you some morning, if you’d like.”

  He glanced over his shoulder and she could have sworn she heard him groan.

  Phil, Julia’s favorite barista, looked up and waved. “Morning, Julia.”

  She raised her hand and wiggled her fingers back at him. “Morning. That’s my neighbor. I’d like to buy his coffee.”

  If she hadn’t gotten Cain’s full attention before, she did now. He whirled around so fast he nearly knocked the man behind him off balance. His gaze shot straight to her. “I’ll buy my own coffee.”

  “It’s my way of apologizing for tormenting you with my Christmas music last night.”

  Phil looked from one to the other, then handed Cain his coffee.

  “I’ll pay for my own coffee,” Cain reiterated, and slapped the money down on the counter.

  “Okay, if you insist. I’m just really sorry for disturbing your peaceful evening with my cheerful Christmas music.” A lie if there ever was one.

  He walked past her and was out the door a moment later.

  Interested in what Phil could tell her, Julia leaned forward as soon as she reached the counter. “Does that guy come in here often?”

  “Most every morning. He always orders the same thing. Never says much.”

  “That’s what I thought.” Not exactly a surprise or the kind of info she was looking for. “Do you know anything else about him?”

  “Not really,” Phil said. “He never talks to me or anyone else that I’ve seen.”

  Julia assumed as much. She placed her order and then paid for Cain’s coffee for the following morning in the form of a gift card.

  “Tell him it’s from me,” she said, almost giddy with excitement.

  Phil willingly joined in with her scheme. “He seemed pretty adamant he didn’t want you buying his coffee.”

  “I know. He’s not exactly the friendly type.”

  “I noticed,” Phil said as he wrote her order out on her cup. “I’ll make sure I’m at the register in the morning. I’ll keep the gift card here and use it then.”

  “Perfect. Thanks, Phil.”

  “His reaction should be interesting.” The barista’s eyes widened.

  That’s exactly what Julia was hoping. “I just wish I could be here to see it.”

  Once she’d collected her drink, Julia had to hurry to the bus stop in order to catch the bus. As it was, she was
the last one to board.

  —

  The woman was driving Cain nuts. And he wasn’t falling for that sweeter-than-honey smile of hers, either. No one was naturally that perky in the morning. She had to be doing this for the sole purpose of getting a reaction out of him.

  She might be cute—to be honest, more than cute—but he wasn’t willing to play whatever game she’d conjured up to torture him.

  His best option was to ignore her, which he fully intended to do. Walking briskly now, he headed down the street to the Harvard Insurance Company. He’d specifically chosen his apartment building because it was within easy walking distance of his job. This offered him the opportunity to return to the apartment for lunch and take Schroeder out. He felt bad that he had to leave the Irish setter cooped up for the majority of the day. Thankfully, the dog was getting on in years and slept most of the time, anyway.

  When his grandfather had gone into the assisted-living complex, he was only allowed to bring dogs weighing twenty pounds and under. Schroeder was a brute at sixty-five pounds. Bernie refused to leave Schroeder until Cain offered to give him a home himself.

  Cain’s thoughts drifted to his grandfather. He loved the old man who’d raised him. Now that Bernie was close to eighty, his health had started to decline. To his credit, though, Gramps had adjusted well to his small apartment. Unlike Cain, his grandfather made friends easily.

  Even as a boy, Cain had been reserved, quiet, and intense. His job as an actuary suited him. Numbers made sense to him, unlike people. He rarely allowed anyone to get close, and for good reason. It seemed every time he did, he regretted it. All he had to do was remember how Dani had betrayed him. But he wasn’t going there.

  “Morning, Mr. Maddox,” the front-desk receptionist greeted him, the same way she did every day. He noticed she’d put up a small Christmas tree on the counter.

  He tipped his head, said “Morning,” and continued past.