by Lisa Jackson
Chapter 2
“Just what is a Southern Christmas?” Adel asked the question and everyone at the conference table looked as if they were pondering it, except Dani, who slid a few inches down into her chair, hoping it wouldn’t happen, but inevitably Adel’s eyes landed on her and remained. Soon, the entire room was looking at her. Could she really be the only employee here from the South? “Well?” Adel said in a tone that suggested she did not have time for Dani to slip all the way under the table and crawl to the exit on her hands and knees.
“There are three things you need to know about a Southern Christmas,” Dani said. Lately she’d noticed that Adel responded to lists of three. She nodded at Dani to continue and took her seat. “One,” Dani said, holding up her index finger and stalling for time.
“There will be food. Two—”
“We all have food,” Adel answered. She sounded suspicious now.
“Do you have cheesy biscuits, and grits, and country ham?”
“No, we do not,” Adel said, feverishly tapping on her iPad. She was back on board now. “Wait. You have that for breakfast? On Christmas morning?”
“Well—my family would often have that breakfast as the main meal on Christmas Day.”
“Oh my God.”
“But that’s just us. Others go all-out. Southern meals at Christmastime, are you kidding me? Beef tenderloin with homemade mustard dip, sweet potato biscuits, glazed ham and sage-crusted pork with pear chutney, standing rib roasts with red wine mushroom, and turkey with figgy port wine sauce—”
“Figgy port wine sauce,” Adel echoed.
“—Montgomery punch, cheese dreams—”
“Cheese dreams,” Adel repeated as if she was in a dream.
“Mini corn cakes with smoked salmon and dill crème fraiche, cheesy grits soufflé, pecan bourbon balls—”
“Stop or I’m going to wet my pants!” Adel looked as if Dani had been to an exotic new land. “Two?” she asked grasping her pen like a torch she was about to pass.
Two was easy. Two was one of the things Dani missed the most about Christmas in the South. “Two, there will always be a gala.” Instantly, she was in Ruth’s gorgeous home. Violinists playing Christmas carols along with the pianist. The table elaborately set with the finest china, and ribbons falling from the chandelier, and skyscraper candles resting in mini-wreaths, and always a showstopper centerpiece. Dani’s favorite was the year Ruth had a gorgeous white swan pulling a red sleigh.
And, oh, the smells. Ham, and turkey, and corn bread stuffing, and so many delicate little appetizers that Dani often fasted for days before the dinner just so she could taste as many as possible. Christmas cocktails and champagne on ice. Mountains of delectable desserts, but Dani’s favorite was always Ruth’s red velvet white chocolate cheese cake. There should be a book made in its honor. The one cheesecake to try before you die. And the people were adorned just as beautifully as the food and decorations. Women in beautiful gowns and glittering jewels, and men in tuxes. A roaring fire, and every inch of space tastefully decorated for the holidays. She’d been dancing with Nate at Christmas galas since she was sixteen. He’d been so nervous that first time, his hands so clammy. She’d wanted him to kiss her so bad. It didn’t happen until the second year, and that was only because Dani cornered him on the upper deck with mistletoe. Not that he resisted—
“A gala,” Adel repeated. “I love it.” Heads nodded up and down the table. They loved it, too. All but one.
“A gala?” Sawyer said. He drew the word out in his Texan drawl like he was a ten-year-old, and she was in pigtails, and they were at recess.
“Yes, Sawyer, a gala,” Dani said. “It’s a formal affair. Nothing you’d ever be invited to.” Danielle knew she was taking the bait, but she couldn’t help it. She’d been taking his sarcasm for six months now. Recently she’d stopped ignoring it and started firing back. His grin, however, made her think twice. He was loving the verbal Ping-Pong.
“Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn,” Sawyer said.
“You can read,” Dani said. “What a surprise.”
“There was a book?” Sawyer said. “I was quoting the movie.” He winked. Dani scowled. He winked again and Dani bit her lip before he noticed her involuntary smile. Too late. He sat back and grinned as if they’d just shared a dirty secret.
“Southern women would just eat you up, cowboy,” Adel said to Sawyer, treating him to a wink of her own. Dani clenched her fists under the table. They probably would. How irritating. Adel turned back to Dani. “Has your family ever hosted a gala?”
“Oh God, no,” Dani said. Adel raised an eyebrow. “We lived by the beach. We were comfortable, but not one of Wilmington’s elite.”
“Ahhh,” Adel said, nodding as if she suspected it all along.
“So it sounds like you weren’t invited to this gala, either,” Sawyer said.
“Of course I was,” Dani said. “I was Nate Hathaway’s girlfriend.” Sawyer raised his eyebrow. Oh, she shouldn’t let him get to her, she just shouldn’t, but he did, and she couldn’t help but take the bait. He drove her insane! Why did everybody else think his cowboy act was so cute? Couldn’t they see how arrogant he was? “Nate’s from one of the most prominent families in town.” The moment the words were out of her mouth she regretted it. It made him sound stuffy and boring. Nate might have been from a prominent family, but he was just as down to earth as she was. God, she missed him. What did she have to do to get him to speak to her again?
Move back. He is never going to forgive me if I stay here.
“And yet here you are,” Sawyer said with a slow smile.
“What?” Dani said. Could he read her mind?
“Slumming it with us,” Sawyer said. He pinned her with his eyes. Dani stared back, openmouthed. She had half a mind to throw something at him. Perhaps water in the face. And smack him. She would really love to smack him across the face. How did he do that? Zero in on her as if there was no one else in the room? Pin her with his eyes. He was trying to seduce her in plain sight, and she was letting him get his hooks into her. The nerve to be so brazen in front of everyone. It made her feel a little flushed, and then angry.
“It’s settled, then,” Adel said. “You’ll do a feature on a typical Southern Christmas—”
“No!” Oh no. Did she say that out loud? But she couldn’t show her face back home. Not until she worked out her plan to get Nate to forgive her. Two years and he still hadn’t spoken to her since that horrific Christmas Eve. Dani backpedaled. “I really don’t think we qualify as a typical Southern Christmas. I mean, we’re more of a little beach town, you know? Wilmywood? The Hollywood of the East?” She was treated to stares all around. Apparently they didn’t keep up with the shows that were filmed in Wilmington. “Under the Dome? Sleepy Hollow? Revolution? Iron Man 3?”
“You watch a lot of TV,” Sawyer said. “See? We do have something in common.”
Dani went to respond, but instead of words, a growl escaped her lips. An actual growl. She was mortified. The others laughed as if she was trying to be funny. If they only knew that something about Sawyer turned on all her primal instincts to defend and attack.
“Easy, tiger,” Sawyer said. He knew, she thought. He knew exactly the effect he was having on her.
“Maybe you could throw in a picture of a celebrity,” Adel says. “Or the film crew. But mostly I just want a Southern Christmas theme. I like where Sawyer was going. Give us Gone with the Wind, the Christmas edition.”
What? “You know that was Atlanta, right?” If they only knew. She’d already burned down the town by burning Nate. Still, Dani hoped she didn’t sound too sarcastic. Two years on staff, and Dani was still treated as if she were an intern. Adel ran her magazine the opposite of a ship’s captain. She was onboard until things started to sink, and then she was the first to jump. Adel loved this idea now, but if Dani didn’t write it to her liking, she would make sure that Dani was the one treading water without a lifeboat. Was this
why she had come to New York? To be teased by transplanted cowboys and treated like she had no creative ideas of her own? Had she made the biggest mistake of her life turning down Nate and running off to New York? She had to get Adel off this Southern idea and then pitch something she really wanted to write. Christmas in the City—New York—where she was invisible but not hated. “I don’t really think of Wilmington as Southern, Southern—we’re kind of Northern, Southern. You know what I mean?” What are you doing, Dani? She wants to give you a Christmas feature. You’re going to shoot yourself in the foot. No wonder she still treats you like an intern. “Why don’t I cover Christmas here in the city?” Dani said. “Maybe something a little more substantial?” She treaded lightly.
Adel frowned. “Like what?”
“Like—an exposé on the men behind the store Santas?”
“Why?” Adel asked.
“Because we let children sit on their laps! Who are these men? Alcoholics, drug addicts—perverts? I mean, wouldn’t you like to know how many Santas are on crack?” Adel looked around the table. It was impressive how still the others kept their faces, waiting to see what she thought before they reacted. At least Adel wasn’t screaming no. Dani pressed on. “I could do all five boroughs.”
“Lucky boroughs,” Sawyer said. For once Dani ignored him.
Unfortunately, so did Adel. She was completely focused on Dani. “Do you even read this magazine?”
“Of course.” Full of fluff. And more fluff. And recipes for fluff. And now she wanted holiday fluff. “I just thought we might like to branch out a little.”
“You want to go dark, is that it? Why don’t we just cover Christmas suicides?”
“I could do that.”
Adel pounded her fist on the table. “I was joking! Are all Southerners this gloomy around Christmas?”
“I’m not gloomy. I just think—”
“Don’t! Let me do the thinking. Maybe there’s something here. We could expose the South as Confederate Grinches. How does that sound?”
“Horrible. It sounds horrible,” Dani said. And true. Kind of true.
“I can see Dani’s point,” Sawyer said. Heads snapped his way.
“Christmas can be stressful. We could give our readers an ultimate sense of relief by acknowledging that,” he said.
Adel smiled at Sawyer. If he had suggested Santas on crack, Adel would probably be sitting in his lap by now. She turned on Dani again. “Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. Is your town anything like that?” Adel was really excited now. If you gave her a mirror and mistletoe, she’d be kissing herself.
“No. Nothing like that.”
“Oh. Is there anyone here from Georgia, or Alabama, or anywhere really Southern, not fake Southern where Dani is from?” Adel asked. Heads shook all around the table.
“Okay, so Dani obviously doesn’t want a feature for Christmas,” Adel said. “Does anyone else want a feature?”
The other writers’ hands shot into the air.
“Wait,” Dani said. “I do want a feature.”
“On what? A ‘Not-so Southern Christmas’?” Adel said. “Yawn.”
“I’d like to do something on ‘The War on Christmas,’” Beth Green said. Beth was always trying to outdo Dani. They both longed to be taken seriously as writers. And here was Beth suggesting something Dani would like to do herself.
“As long as Christmas wins the war,” Adel said. “Then I like it.”
“No,” Dani said. “I said I’ll do it.”
“And I said you’ve bored me already,” Adel said. “Beth, you and Sawyer need to get as many Christmas-haters photographed as possible. Maybe start with Dani here—our Southern Scrooge. Then hit the streets. If you see anyone kicking a reindeer—shoot it—”
Dani shot out of her chair. “You’re right. I am a Southern Scrooge. But I didn’t used to be. I used to love Christmas.”
“And I care, why?” Adel asked.
“Because I think it would make a great story.”
“Not feeling it,” Adel said.
“Two years ago my fiancé, Nate Hathaway, proposed to me on Christmas Eve.” All eyes were on her again. Especially Sawyer. But she couldn’t think about that now. “He had involved the entire town. Flew a real Christmas tree in from across the state. Had a flash mob waiting to congratulate us. Hired out the horse and carriage for the night. And I said no. Because I wanted to move here to be a famous writer. Nate hasn’t spoken to me in two years. And all I want for Christmas is Nate. I want to go to Wilmington and win him back. I’ll write about it every step of the way, and Sawyer can come with me and shoot anyone he wants.”
“I’m starting to feel like an assassin,” Sawyer quipped.
“If he takes me back, it will be a Christmas miracle. If he doesn’t—you’ll get your Southern Christmas.”
“Hmmm,” Adel said.
“Nate Hathaway,” Dani said. “He’s like royalty in Wilmington. A true prince.”
“You turned down the town prince?” Sawyer said. “They must want your head on a platter.” He put his hand over his heart.
“Along with the Christmas goose!” Dani said. “Southerners eat goose, too. And my goose is cooked!” She didn’t know why she was going on like that except Adel seemed to come to life whenever Dani put herself down.
“Somebody Google Nate Hathaway,” Adel said.
“Already did,” Beth piped up. “He’s hot.”
“You found something on Nate?” Dani said.
“Is he an artist?” Beth asked.
“Yes! He’s incredible. He makes sculptures from driftwood and shells, and glass. Although he underestimates his talents. I’ve always encouraged him to think bigger—”
“Looks like he took that advice.”
“What?” Dani said.
Beth turned her e-tablet around. It was a photograph of Nate, beaming ear-to-ear. Next to him stood a statuesque woman with long dark hair. She was smiling, too. Between them was a giant sculpture. Dani could tell right away it was Nate’s. Only better. In fact it was the best thing he’d ever done.
“Who’s that woman?” Dani said.
“An art curator,” Beth said.
“Thank God,” Dani said.
“From London,” Beth said. “Her name is Anya.”
So? Dani wanted to shout. So?
“They’re engaged,” Beth said.
“What?” Dani lunged across the table and grabbed the tablet out of Beth’s hands. She brought the picture in closer. Sure enough, it was in the engagement section. “No,” she said. “No.”
Beth read aloud over her shoulder. “Nate Hathaway and Anya Pennington announced their engagement—”
“No,” Dani said again. “No.” She pushed the iPad away.
“Americans versus the British in the South once again,” Adel said. “It’s beginning to look like a very Southern Christmas after all.” She rubbed her hands together. “The feature is yours. And see if you can get me an alligator in a Santa hat.” The excitement was back in her eyes. “I want the two of you on the next flight out.”
One by one, everyone filed out of the room. Except for Dani, who sat and stared at the table. And Sawyer, who hovered by the door.
“Look on the Bright side,” Sawyer said.
“What bright side?” Dani said.
“I’m just thinking of bylines,” Sawyer said. “Using your last name.” He motioned in the air as if he was skywriting. “Look on the Bright side,” he repeated.
“Careful,” Dani said.
“Of what?”
“I’ve got a Santa hat and Wilmington really does have alligators.”
Chapter 3
The Wilmington airport was tiny, and even though Adel pulled off the impossible and found them a nonstop flight, just under two hours, it was a relief to finally deplane. Dani waited with each step for Sawyer to make some kind of crack about what happened. She could not believe she did that. Two hours! Was it too much to ask that she stay awake for two ho
urs? The stress of returning home had been eating at her. She hadn’t slept since Adel announced she was sending them to Wilmington. Keeping it a surprise from everyone, including her parents, had also overexcited her. So that was why it happened—Dani had been totally sleep-deprived. Still. Of all people. Even after they were in the rental car headed downtown, he still hadn’t mentioned it. He was looking out the window and whistling. Whistling of all things.
“Look,” Dani said. “I must have been really exhausted.”
“Must have been,” Sawyer said. God, he sounded smug. She’d never heard anyone sound so smug.
“Lucky it was you, I guess.”
“Lucky, lucky, me,” he said.
“Because I’m sure I would have fallen asleep on absolutely anyone.”
“You’re like that, are you?”
“No, I’m not like that. It just happened.” She’d woken up with her head on his shoulder! Why did he have to sit in the middle? And she didn’t want to admit this, never, ever, again, but she had drooled on him, too. She had literally drooled on Sawyer. He was just waiting to nail her with it. He had probably tweeted it around the world by now. Although, truth be told, she’d never seen him with a smartphone. She didn’t even know if he had one. She kind of liked that about him. But that was all she liked. Yes, there was some kind of animal sex appeal about him. The bad boy, she supposed. The cowboy from Texas. He wore ripped jeans and T-shirts and always sported stubble and his brown hair was always tousled as if he had just gotten out of bed. He smelled good, though, a strong clean scent that defied Dani’s view of him, made her imagine him sitting in a bubble bath. Chest just out of the water, arms open with a hand resting on either side of the tub. That lazy grin on his stupid face as he arched his eyebrow for her to join him. As if! I’ll never take a bubble bath with you, she wanted to shout. Never! Even with all those muscles. Obviously he lifted weights. Or wrangled cattle. She hadn’t seen any tattoos on him, either. He was sure to have one. On his hip bone?
They were passing the Black River swamp where the bald cypress stood bare—stripped of life by the infusion of salt water. The dead trees, now hollow inside, had become home to a lot of wildlife, and despite the destruction, their remains were eerily beautiful. They always reminded Dani that life was short.
