Christmas Sweets

by Joanne Fluke

  “I just wanted to thank you for helping me out earlier. They fixed the bike for me at the sports center, no questions asked.”

  Elizabeth, who had gone to college in Boston, thought she detected a hint of a Boston accent, which she liked. “Guests come first at Cavendish,” she said, repeating the company motto in a teasing voice.

  “I guess I better fess up,” he said. “I’m not actually a guest. I was just biking by when the tire went flat.” He bit his lip. “My name’s Chris Kennedy, by the way.”

  “Elizabeth Stone.”

  “I know,” he said, indicating her name tag.

  Elizabeth blushed. “Well, maybe you’ll be a guest in the future.”

  “I’d like that. But in the meantime, I was hoping you’d go out to dinner with me. How about tonight?”

  The request caught Elizabeth off guard. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “I guess that would be okay.”

  “Don’t sound so enthusiastic,” he said sarcastically.

  Again, Elizabeth blushed. “It’s just . . .”

  “I know,” he said. “I had you at a disadvantage. So, shall I pick you up here?”

  Elizabeth thought of the ratty old shorts and T-shirt she’d worn to work that morning before changing into her uniform in the hotel locker room. It was hardly the outfit she wanted to wear on a first date. “No, I’d like to go home and change out of this uniform,” she said.

  He tilted his head. “I think it’s kind of cute.”

  Rolling her eyes, she wrote her address and phone number on a slip of paper. “What time?” she asked, giving it to him.

  “Seven?”

  “See you then.”

  Chris had no sooner left than Toni dashed across the lobby. “So what was that all about?” she asked.

  “He asked me out to dinner.”

  “That was fast,” Toni said. “Who is he?”

  “His name’s Chris Kennedy.”

  “Kennedy! He’s probably one of those Kennedys. They have a place here in Palm Beach, you know.”

  “He does have a Boston accent,” Elizabeth said.

  “And those teeth. Those are definitely Kennedy teeth.”

  Elizabeth was doubtful. “You think?”

  “Absolutely. And no wedding ring. That makes him husband material—with money. That’s the best kind.”

  “We’ll see,” Elizabeth said, not nearly as convinced as her friend. Chris Kennedy was good-looking and she certainly found him attractive, but she didn’t really know anything about him. She’d been raised to be cautious in matters of the heart and she wanted to know what kind of person he was before she got too involved.

  * * *

  When her doorbell rang precisely at seven, Elizabeth was ready, dressed in a pastel tunic, a pair of skinny white jeans, and her prized Jack Rogers sandals. She’d figured Chris was a casual sort of guy and didn’t want to be too dressed up. She’d used a light hand with her makeup, too, applying only mascara and a slick of lip gloss. When she hurried out of her apartment and down the stairs, meeting him at the door to the apartment block, she was glad she’d worn pants because he had arrived on a motorcycle.

  “I hope the bike’s okay,” he said. “I have a spare helmet.”

  “Fine with me,” Elizabeth said, eager for a bit of an adventure.

  “Great,” he said, giving her the helmet. “I’ll take good care of you.”

  “You better, ’cause my dad will come roaring into town from Maine and track you down and wring your neck if anything bad happens to me.” Setting the helmet on her head, she discovered the straps were too long.

  “I can fix that,” he said, bending down to adjust them. Feeling his warm hands at her neck and scenting his minty fresh breath, she wondered what it would be like to kiss him. “There,” he said, straightening up. “Even your dad would approve.”

  “I’m not sure of that,” she said, climbing on the seat and wrapping her arms around his waist. He was every bit as lean as he looked, she discovered, feeling the firm muscles beneath his polo shirt.

  He laughed. “I wouldn’t blame him, but I’m really the kind of guy even an overprotective dad can’t object to,” he said as they rolled off down the driveway.

  It was a warm evening and dusk was lingering as they rode over the bridge and along Ocean Boulevard, where moored boats bobbed in the peaceful navy blue water. Some had strings of twinkling lights, a few even had Christmas trees fixed to their masts, and Elizabeth thought of the annual arrival of Santa by boat back home in Tinker’s Cove. She had a brief moment of homesickness but Chris took a curve a little bit fast and she tightened her grip around his waist and discovered she was definitely enjoying the present moment, and this ride with this exciting guy.

  He pulled up at a tiki bar by the beach, where tables with shaggy grass umbrellas were set up on the sand, and they ordered captain’s plates and cold beer. The night air was warm and silky when they seated themselves at one of the tables, waiting for their number to be called. Flaming tiki torches illuminated their faces and Elizabeth thought she was a very long way from home.

  “So your family is in Maine?” he asked, taking that first sip of beer.

  “Yup,” Elizabeth said, meeting his blue eyes. “I grew up in Tinker’s Cove, a little town on the coast. My mom’s a reporter for a local newspaper and my dad’s a restoration carpenter. I went to Chamberlain College in Boston, and this is my first real job, though I worked summers back home.” She licked a bit of foam off her lip. “What about you? You sound like you come from Boston.”

  “Guilty,” he said, grinning. “I was supposed to go to Harvard—that’s what the family wanted—but I love sailing and biking and I chose the University of Florida instead. I went on to law school and now I’m working with a, uh, conservation trust.”

  “That must be interesting,” Elizabeth said, impressed. “And it’s a meaningful job that makes a difference, that makes the world a better place.”

  He raised his shoulders. “I don’t know about that, but it does pay the rent. What about you? Do you like your job at the Cavendish?”

  “I guess it’s okay,” she replied, “but I don’t think I want to do it for the rest of my life. I sort of fell into it because I had a little experience. I worked summers at an inn back home.” The sun was long gone and they were enclosed in a flickering circle of light from the tiki torches. Elizabeth slipped off her sandals and curled her toes, feeling the cool sand beneath her feet. “Don’t you miss winter?” she asked. “I just can’t get used to the idea of Christmas without snow. Instead of balsam wreaths they’ve got pink and white poinsettias in the hotel—it seems so wrong. I don’t mind poinsettias but they ought to be red.”

  Chris shrugged. “I guess you get used to it. It’s Christmas everywhere, after all. When I was a kid I had this book: Christmas Around the World. Eskimos sitting around Christmas trees in their igloos and African kids opening presents in grass huts and Japanese kids hanging up stockings in their pagodas.”

  “I’m not sure that book was culturally correct,” Elizabeth said skeptically.

  “Now that you mention it,” he said, laughing, “I don’t think it was.” Hearing their number called, Chris got up and returned with a tray loaded with fried fish, French fries, and coleslaw.

  “That’s enough food for an army,” Elizabeth said, taking her plate.

  “Eat up,” he said. “You’ll need some insulation when you go back north for Christmas. You are going, aren’t you?”

  “No,” Elizabeth said, biting into a fry. “All December vacations are canceled for this big party Jonah Gruber is giving. He’s some rich Wall Street guy who’s booked the entire hotel for four days. Lots of VIPs are coming and everybody’s going to have to work extra hours.” She popped the rest of the fry into her mouth. “I was really looking forward to seeing my little nephew, Patrick.”

  “That’s too bad,” Chris said. “Christmas is all about family. We have this tradition—we all go skiing in New Hampshire. My dad,
Joe, he’s a great skier, and my cousin, Robbie, he’s a fiend on the slopes.”

  Elizabeth noticed little stars in the sky; the water was a smooth black surface reflecting the lights on the moored boats. Joe and Robbie, she thought, those were names she’d heard in connection with the Kennedy family. Joe Kennedy ran a program that provided heating oil to low income people in Massachusetts and Robbie was a nickname for Robert, JFK’s brother who was also assassinated. Cousin Robbie might be his son or grandson. Should she come right out and ask him? Would that be pushy? Rude? Too personal for a first date?

  “Penny for your thoughts,” Chris said.

  “Oh, sorry.” Elizabeth decided that she certainly didn’t want to seem like a celebrity hound or, worse, a gold digger. “I was just looking at the stars. Isn’t the sky beautiful tonight?”

  “Sure is,” he answered, but he wasn’t looking at the sky. He was gazing at Elizabeth.

  Chapter Three

  The next morning Elizabeth was still basking in the afterglow of her date with Chris. She’d never been one of those girls like Toni who made up a checklist for the perfect mate, but if she had, Chris would have a check in every box. He was tall and good-looking. He had a good job as a lawyer working in the public interest. Family was important to him. And he’d been a terrific date, fun to be with and considerate. When they’d finally ended the evening, standing in front of her door, he’d given her a long, lingering kiss that made her wish for more. But he didn’t press her. He said he wanted to see her again and then he was gone.

  Toni, of course, couldn’t wait to dissect the date. “So how was it?” she demanded, encountering Elizabeth in the locker room, where she was putting on her Cavendish blazer. “Did you go all the way?”

  Elizabeth was shocked. “Not on a first date! Besides, he was a perfect gentleman.”

  Toni narrowed her eyes. “Maybe he wasn’t that into you.”

  “He sure seemed interested. We had a great time and he said he wanted to see me again.”

  “They always say that,” Toni warned. “I bet you’ll never hear from him again.”

  That idea bothered Elizabeth more than she cared to let on. “Well, my mother always says never run after a man because they’re like streetcars—another one always comes along.”

  “Well, if that’s the way you feel, I guess it’s okay then. Too bad you didn’t have that spark, that chemistry.”

  “Yeah,” Elizabeth said, thinking their chemistry had been just fine. Every time she thought about Chris, which was pretty much all the time, she felt the stirrings of desire. And once seated at her concierge desk, she found her heart jumped every time the phone rang, in hope that he was calling. He didn’t call, however, and she was kept busy by the guests and their endless demands. Busy as she was, she couldn’t forget Toni’s prophecy that he wasn’t that into her, which squatted like some evil toad in the back of her mind.

  Then, when he finally did call, she didn’t have time to talk. She’d been conscripted to assist Layla Fine, the professional party planner Jonah Gruber had hired to organize the festive gala. Mr. Kronenberg had minced no words when he gave her the assignment. “You’ll find she has a rather forceful personality,” he said with a sigh. “Just do whatever she wants and we’ll add it to Mr. Gruber’s account.”

  Elizabeth nodded, thinking the bill for the four-day gala was going to be astronomical. Gruber probably wasn’t paying the rack rate, which began at over five hundred dollars for a room in season and went up to over five thousand for the top-floor suites; she was sure he’d negotiated a sizable discount. Even so, this was a big deal for the hotel and now, suddenly, she was responsible for making it all go smoothly.

  “I just know we’re going to get along like a house afire,” Layla told her, plunking her tiny little bottom in one of the gilt chairs next to Elizabeth’s desk. Up close, Elizabeth could see that Layla wasn’t quite as young as she first appeared; long lines ran from her nose to either side of her mouth, and the skin around her eyes was crepey. Nevertheless, she was a bundle of energy and gave a youthful impression, tossing her long blond hair extensions this way and that and dashing about on impossibly high, needle-thin stiletto heels. “So, first let’s see what the hotel can offer in the way of activities. These folks are going to be here for four days and we need to provide lots of fun things for them to do.”

  “We offer lots of options for our guests,” Elizabeth said, trying to put Chris out of her mind so she could concentrate on the task at hand. “There’s a fitness center, of course, and we’re right on the beach. There’s boating, golf, tennis, all right here. And I can arrange for horseback riding, helicopter rides, pretty much anything anyone wants.”

  Layla was shaking her head. “That’s all well and good, but these are very special people, the crème de la crème, and they will want unique entertainments, things that ordinary people can’t do.”

  Elizabeth was stumped, painfully aware that she was an ordinary person and didn’t have a clue what the extraordinary people did. “What do you have in mind?”

  “Well, say a special performance at a theater, or perhaps a private showing in an art museum, things like that. Danny Simpson, the tennis star, is one of the guests. Maybe we could have an exhibition match with Sharapova. That would be fun, wouldn’t it? Boy versus girl?”

  Elizabeth had a sinking feeling; she knew she was out of her depth here. “I’ll do my best,” she began.

  “Oh, don’t worry—I’ll help. I’ll give you names and numbers. We’ll plan four days that they’ll never forget.” Layla turned her head, giving her wavy extensions yet another toss, and studied the holiday decorations in the lobby, which Elizabeth considered a tasteful assortment of seasonal flowering plants and wreaths, with a few twinkly lights here and there. “You know, these decorations are rather restrained, wouldn’t you say?”

  “That’s intentional,” Elizabeth said. “We cater to a wide variety of guests here—Jewish people and Muslims and quite a few Asians and Indians—and they don’t celebrate Christmas. It’s supposed to be seasonal, not particularly Christmas.”

  “Well, we’ll have to change that,” Layla declared. “We need a lot more sparkle, a lot more bling. It’s the Blingle Bells Ball!”

  When Layla finally left, leaving Elizabeth with several single-spaced pages listing all the things she wanted her to do, Elizabeth tried to return Chris’s call. She dialed his cell but only got voice mail, so she left a quick message saying she was sorry they hadn’t had time to talk but she’d been busy at work. She half expected him to return her call immediately; she’d called his cell phone, after all, and knew he always carried it. When he didn’t call back, she reluctantly concluded it was because he’d decided to ignore her call and blow her off, just like Toni had predicted. She found that thought terribly depressing and threw herself into her work.

  It wasn’t until she was headed home in her used Corolla, three hours later than usual due to the extra work for the Gruber party, that her cell phone finally rang.

  “Hi!” he said, “I missed you. Want to go for a beer or something?”

  Elizabeth’s heart leaped—he missed her! But she was dead tired. Layla had run her off her feet, trimming dozens of fake white Christmas trees, making calls, packing elaborate gift baskets for Gruber’s guests, and fending off reporters who’d gotten wind of the exclusive gala and wanted information. And then there’d been a stressful one-on-one session with Dan Wrayburn, the security director, who had warned her about data breaches and computer viruses and worms. “A beer would be great,” she finally said, deciding she didn’t want to put him off and risk the chance of letting his ardor cool.

  “Great,” he said. “Do you want to meet me somewhere? Say Charley’s Crab?”

  Elizabeth agreed, thinking she was glad she’d worn her Lilly dress to work that morning, instead of her usual workout clothes, just in case Chris called.

  He was waiting for her in front of the casually elegant restaurant, dressed in khakis
and a pale blue polo shirt, with boat shoes and no socks. She smiled, aware that she was a sucker for the preppy look.

  “What are you smiling about?” he asked, when they were seated at a table in a cozy corner of the bar.

  “I’m just giddy with relief,” she said. “I’ve been dealing with this awful woman all day. She’s the party planner Gruber hired to organize this shindig and she’s a piece of work.”

  “Well, now you can relax,” he said. “What will you have?”

  “A glass of chardonnay,” she said.

  He nodded at the waitress and ordered the wine for her and a Sam Adams for himself. “You can take the boy out of Boston but you can’t take the Boston out of the boy,” he quipped.

  “My dad loves their Winter Lager,” Elizabeth said. “But you hardly need that down here.”

  “Sometimes the nights get chilly,” he said, with a mischievous grin.

  Elizabeth didn’t quite know how to take this, so she decided to make a joke. “I know—that’s why I wear flannel to bed, even here in Florida.”

  “I hope you’re teasing me,” he said, when their drinks arrived. He raised his beer and tapped her glass. “Here’s to Yankee girls, or one very special Yankee girl.”

  Elizabeth laughed. “I don’t comb my hair with codfish bones,” she said, referring to the silly rhyme she’d learned as a child.

  “I like short hair on girls,” he said, reaching across the table and smoothing a lock of her hair. “You don’t get all tangled up in it.”

  She took a swallow of wine. “I’ve got to get an early start tomorrow. I’ve got a seven o’clock meeting with the security director.”

  “What does he want with you?” Chris asked, in a casual tone.

  “I don’t know.” Elizabeth shook her head. “Something about the jewels, I think. You know, the whole point of this party is for Gruber to show off these jewels he bought for his wife for millions of dollars. The hotel doesn’t want responsibility for them until the last minute, but Layla, the party planner, told me that they’ve got to come sooner because of some photo shoot for Town & Country magazine.” She paused, thinking perhaps she was saying too much, and changed the subject from the jewels. “The photographer is only available on one day. His name is Sammie Wong. I never heard of him but Layla says he’s famous.”