Twelve Days of Christmas

by Debbie Macomber

Bernie’s expression sobered. “Cain doesn’t show a lot of emotion. He keeps the way he feels locked up inside. I’m hoping this kindness project of yours will make a difference. It’s what he needs and a lot more.”

  They played several games of cribbage. It’d grown dark by the time Julia prepared to leave. She collected her coat and purse and thanked the older man. “Bernie, I had a wonderful afternoon. I can’t thank you enough.”

  “The pleasure was mine. Can’t remember the last time I’ve enjoyed a visitor more. I hope you’ll come again.”

  “I will, and I’ll bring you those cookies next time I stop by.”

  “Wouldn’t turn them down like my foolish grandson.”

  Leaning forward, Julia kissed his weathered cheek. “It might not be a good idea to mention our visit to Cain.”

  “Not a good idea at all,” Bernie agreed. “Keep me updated on your progress. A twelve-day experiment, you say?”

  “Twelve days. This is day five.” For a number of reasons she didn’t mention the blog, mostly because it didn’t seem relevant. She wasn’t sure he would even know what a blog was.

  “I’ll stop by again soon.”

  “Good. I’ll look forward to that more than you know. Furthermore, I demand a rematch,” he said, putting away the cribbage board. “Your grandfather did a good job teaching you; you’re one fine opponent.”

  Julia considered that high praise.

  —

  Despite the hour, Julia stopped off at a Christmas tree lot on her way back to the apartment and purchased a large wreath and a small tree. It was awkward getting both home on her own, and when she got to the elevator, she saw a sign that read: TEMPORARILY OUT OF ORDER.

  “Just great,” she muttered under her breath, her shoulders sagging with defeat. It’d been a long day and she was dead on her feet.

  “What is?”

  Cain stood behind her, a take-out bag in his hand.

  Julia shot him a look. “The elevator is out of order.”

  A huge grin came over his face. “Looks like you’re up a creek with a Christmas tree.”

  She paused, unable to look away. Cain was an attractive man when he smiled. And, while she hated to admit it, he was good-looking even when he didn’t, which in her humble opinion was grossly unfair. “This isn’t funny.”

  “On the contrary. I look forward to watching you haul that tree up two steep flights of stairs to the third floor.” He walked over to the door leading to the stairs and held it open. “You coming?”

  Julia wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction. “Go on ahead of me. You wouldn’t want your dinner to get cold, would you?”

  “And miss seeing you struggle with that tree? Not on your life.”

  “I’m happy you think this is amusing.”

  “Come on,” he urged, tilting his head toward the stairwell. “I’m not a doorstop, you know.”

  Julia dug her fist into her hipbone. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I could use some help here.”

  Cain cocked his eyebrows. “Do you want me to contact the building manager for you?”

  The man was infuriating. Ignoring him as best as she could, Julia carried the bushy fir tree into the stairwell. The Christmas tree might not be big—it was less than four feet tall—but it was heavy. Determined to ignore him, she marched up the first few steps and was halfway to the second floor before she had to pause and rest the base of the tree on the concrete step. Leaning against the railing, she glared at Cain. He was seriously going to let her do this on her own. If nothing else, it would make great blog material. No one would doubt it was a true Ebenezer moment.

  “I suppose I should thank you for the latte,” she said while gathering her breath.

  “Collected it already, did you?”

  “Phil brought it out to the bus stop for me this morning. Peppermint mocha’s my favorite; you remembered.”

  Crossing his arms, he seemed perfectly content to wait for her.

  “I should have refused it,” she said, stiffening.

  “Why would you do that?”

  “You did.”

  He wagged his finger like a pendulum. “Different situation.”

  “Whatever. What about the cookies? You refused those, too.”

  “I’m watching my weight.”

  He didn’t have a spare ounce of fat on him. That was an excuse if ever she heard one. In other circumstances she would have called him on it. At least they were talking, and while it might not be the most fun conversation, it was an improvement over the last couple days.

  She hauled the tree up the rest of the flight and paused on the landing. “I hope you realize that comment about me stalking you was low.”

  He shrugged. “It was.”

  “Are you going to apologize?” She challenged him with a hard look.

  Cain met her gaze and for a half-second it looked as if he was in danger of smiling. “How about I help you haul that tree up to the third floor instead?”

  Julia was no fool. “Deal.”

  He took the tree out of her hand and effortlessly climbed the remaining stairs. Julia followed behind with the wreath and was breathless by the time they reached their floor. Cain stood outside her door while she dug in her purse for her keys.

  “Were you serious about not getting in the elevator with me again?” he asked as she inserted the key and opened her apartment.

  “I’ve had a change of heart, not that we need to worry about meeting at the elevator now that it’s out of order.”

  “Good point.”

  “If by chance it’s working tomorrow morning and I happen to leave for work the same time as you, then I would suggest you either take the stairs or wait.”

  He cocked his head to one side. “You wouldn’t want me to be late for work, would you?”

  She gave a nonchalant shrug. “Your choice.”

  “I’ll take the elevator with you,” Cain said as he carried the tree into her apartment. “Where do you want this?”

  “By the window.” She had to analyze what he’d just said. “Are you saying you don’t mind my sunny disposition and cheerful chatter?”

  “That isn’t what I said.”

  “Then what did you mean?”

  Ignoring her question, he leaned the tree against the window. “You have a tree stand?”

  “I do. You didn’t answer my question.”

  He frowned. “About catching the elevator? It’s just what I said. I don’t want to be late for work, and I wouldn’t want you to miss your bus.”

  “You could leave earlier, you know.”

  “You could, too. No biggie. Do whatever makes you comfortable.”

  Cain would rather submit to torture than hint that he enjoyed her company.

  “Are you going to get that tree stand or not?” he prompted.

  Leaving him, Julia went into her bedroom and stretched up to the top shelf of her closet and brought down the box of Christmas essentials. Including the tree stand.

  “Here,” he instructed once she returned. “Hold on to the tree and I’ll get it set up for you.”

  Julia grabbed hold of the center of the tree while he knelt down on the floor and fitted the trunk into the stand.

  “I appreciate the help,” she told him, and she did. It amazed her that the day before she’d been ready—eager, even—to throttle Cain Maddox. The difference in his attitude toward her from one day to the next was shocking.

  “Cain?”

  “What?” he muttered.

  “Why are you helping me?”

  He leaned back on his haunches and looked up at her, frowning. “Would you rather I didn’t?”

  “No. I’m surprised is all.”

  He leaned forward, flattening his hands on his thighs. “If you must know, I decided you don’t have any untoward intentions toward me. I don’t know what this Merry Sunshine act you’ve got going is all about, but I’ve sort of gotten used to it.”

  Julia did her best to hide a smile.

 
“You go overboard, but I can live with that.”

  “Big of you,” she muttered.

  He chuckled. “I decided you were right. You couldn’t possibly have known I needed a birthday gift for my grandfather and planted yourself in the Macy’s men’s department.”

  “Nor did I follow you to Manor House.”

  “Right.”

  Returning to setting up the tree, he fiddled with the screws in the stand as he spoke. “You have to admit you have been making a pest of yourself.”

  “You really didn’t say that!” It was agonizingly slow progress with this guy.

  “I’m not being critical, but it seems you’re hard up for a man.”

  Her mouth shot open. “Hard up for a man,” she repeated, as the outrage built until she was afraid she was going to explode.

  “Don’t get me wrong. I’m flattered.”

  Julia let go of the tree and it fell over sideways, hitting her small kitchen table before bouncing to the floor.

  “Hey,” Cain barked. “Why’d you do that? I’ve got three of the four screws in.”

  “Out,” she shouted, and pointed toward the door.

  A look of bafflement came over him. “What’s your problem?”

  “First off, I am not hard up for a man, and if I was, I can assure you that you’d be the last man in Seattle who would interest me.”

  His eyes crinkled with a smile. Something he didn’t do nearly often enough. “Evidence says otherwise.”

  “Thank you, Sherlock.” In thinking about it, Cain must assume she was blatantly flirting with him. It would be hard to convince him otherwise. Seeing how she’d repeatedly made efforts to get his attention, it sort of made sense. She hadn’t considered that when she’d taken on this experiment.

  “Get over yourself, Julia. Do you want me to get this tree in the stand or not? Your choice.”

  Julia weighed her options. She could remain mad and then struggle to get it up on her own or swallow her pride and let him do it. “Okay, fine, finish.”

  Cain straightened the tree and Julia clasped the middle of it while he adjusted the last screw. She remained tight-lipped, unwilling to hand him additional ammunition to use against her.

  Cain broke the silence with a question. “How long have you been playing the piano?”

  “I thought you considered music noisy racket.” He’d made a big scene about it only a few days ago.

  “I had a bad headache that night.”

  “Oh.”

  “I suppose you’re looking for an apology for that, as well as everything else.”

  “Not particularly.”

  “Good, because I wasn’t going to give you one.” He finished and leaned on his haunches again. “Is it straight?”

  Julia stepped back and examined the tree before she nodded. “It is. Thank you.”

  “I’d say it was my pleasure, but it was more a pain in the butt.”

  “Then why did you do it?” He really was the most exasperating person.

  “Well, for one, you needed help, and for two, I’m a bit taken aback to find I don’t dislike you nearly as much as I thought.”

  Julia laughed and pressed her hand over her heart. “Who knew?”

  “Knew what?” he asked, looking up at her with a quizzical expression.

  “That you could be such a silver-tongued devil.”

  Cain laughed. He bounced back to his feet and grabbed his take-out bag. “See you in the morning.”

  Not until her apartment door closed did Julia realize he was basically telling her he’d meet her at the elevator.

  Julia’s Blog

  TWELVE DAYS OF CHRISTMAS

  December 18

  He’s Not My Type

  * * *

  * * *

  Wow, do you know how to have a girl’s back! I read all of your comments and suggestions and want to thank everyone who contacted me. And never fear, I’m filled with more determination to continue than ever.

  And guess what? The biggest encouragement I got came from Ebenezer himself. Yes, you read that right. The thick wall around this unpleasant man has showed its first major crack. He bought me a latte, which I’m sure was his way of letting me know he regretted his accusations from Saturday.

  Talk about being surprised. It’s almost as if he’s reading this blog himself (which I can assure you he isn’t), and he gave me all the incentive I need to continue.

  Furthermore, he’s talking to me now. I mean talking as in a regular conversation other than terse one-word answers.

  I learned something else from him, something he told me himself. He asked if I would be at the elevator in the morning. Simple question, right? After the fiasco on Saturday, I’d been determined to rearrange my schedule so we wouldn’t meet. I went so far as to tell him so.

  While he didn’t come right out and admit it, he looks for me now. He actually looks for me. And while he might still complain about my morning cheerfulness, I believe he secretly enjoys it.

  Oh, and I met his grandfather and got some insider information. As I suspected, Ebenezer had a woman do him wrong. That has apparently soured him on relationships. No surprise there, right?

  When he was helping me set up my Christmas tree he implied I’m romantically interested in him and actually said that I was hard up for a man. I guess he couldn’t go more than a few minutes without irritating me. I did my best to hold my tongue—far be it from me to be accused of flirting with him. He’s really not my type.

  No way.

  Not interested.

  Will report back tomorrow.

  Julia sort of hated to admit it, but she was looking forward to seeing Cain on Monday morning. She listened at her front door for what seemed like forever, but he didn’t show. Her goal was to make it look like their meeting up at the same time every morning was pure accident. It wasn’t, of course, and she’d pulled this little trick more than once.

  As time ran out, with no option left, she had to leave or miss the bus. Cain was a no-show. Either he’d left earlier than normal or he was running late. The temptation to tap on his door was strong, but she resisted.

  Giving him the wrong impression about her intentions made Julia extra-cautious. Letting him think she might be interested in him romantically wasn’t part of the experiment. Still, he’d made a point about the two of them connecting that morning. She couldn’t help but wonder what the deal was. Knowing him, it was probably a ruse to keep her guessing and on her toes. That would be just like Cain.

  —

  The closer it got to Christmas, the crazier her workday became. Shoppers crowded the store, searching out the perfect gift at the best price. Being this busy made the time pass quickly for Julia.

  During her lunch break, she barely had time to grab a few bites as she read the comments on her blog. The number of hits had doubled.

  Doubled.

  SassySusan: See? Knew it was working. So glad you stuck with your plan. Met his grandfather, did you? Devious little devil you turned out to be.

  JingleBellGirl: Who says he’s not your type? He bought you a latte. What more do you want?

  And the comments went on for pages. People were loving this project and giving her all kinds of encouragement. What her readers liked and mentioned most was the latte Cain had gotten her. Like Julia, her readers saw the fact that he’d gotten Julia her favorite drink as a seismic shift in Cain. This one action was proof that killing him with kindness was working even better than they had hoped. To Julia’s way of thinking, it had taken far longer for that crack to show itself than she would have liked. Nevertheless, she’d take it.

  Although she hadn’t given the Christmas-tree incident more than a casual mention, several of the readers picked up on that as well. As far as Julia could tell, Cain didn’t oppose Christmas, he just wasn’t into it. In retrospect, that made sense. For many years now it’d been just him and his grandfather. It wasn’t like he had an extended list of people he needed to shop for or a big family. Knowing what she
did, she had an idea.

  As soon as she was finished with her shift, Julia took the bus to Manor House to see Cain’s grandfather. She’d packed the last of the homemade chocolate-chip cookies to bring him that morning, but that was just an excuse to seek him out a second time in as many days.

  Sharon, the woman who was at the reception desk at Manor House, smiled when she saw Julia.

  “You’re starting to become a regular, aren’t you?”

  “Guess I am,” Julia called out as she rushed past. “Bernie’s in room 316, isn’t he?”

  “Probably not.”

  She skidded to a stop. “Oh, is he up in the game room again?”

  “Could be. Check there first.”

  “Will do. Thanks.” With a wave and a jaunty step, Julia was off to the fifth floor. Sure enough, she found Bernie sitting at the table, working on the same jigsaw puzzle he had been the day before. Two other men were off in the corner, playing cribbage, she noticed.

  Bernie glanced up, and when he saw her, his face immediately broke into a smile. “You’re back.”

  “Promised you home-baked cookies, didn’t I?”

  “You brought them?” His eyes widened with delight.

  “I sure did.” She set her bag down on the tabletop and brought out the plastic container with the cookies.

  “You sweetheart. If my grandson was foolish enough to refuse these, then I’ll gladly accept them.” Right away he peeled off the cover and snatched a cookie. After a single bite, he closed his eyes as if tasting ambrosia. “Better than I imagined. Almost as good as the ones my wife baked, God rest her soul.”

  “Thanks.” She pulled out a chair and sat down. “I didn’t run into Cain this morning.” Missing him had weighed on her mind most of the day. It seemed Cain wasn’t the only one who’d grown accustomed to their morning ritual.

  “He’s sick,” Bernie mentioned casually as he reached for a second cookie.

  “Sick?” That was a shock. “I saw him last night and he seemed well enough then.”

  Cookie in his hand, Bernie looked up. “What time was that?”

  “I don’t remember. Around seven, I think. Why?”