A Lot Like Christmas

by Dawn Atkins

  “There’s no point. I am who I am.”

  “People change,” he said. “Talk to her.”

  “Since when do you dish out romantic advice?”

  “Since I took some of yours. I met someone while I was wearing that stupid elf costume, you know.”

  “It’s a chick magnet, for sure,” Chase agreed.

  “So I’m going to need the BMW back. She likes convertibles.”

  Chase smiled at the light in his brother’s eyes. “Watch yourself, bro. It’s easy to speed in that thing. Bring a warm jacket she can borrow.”

  The next evening, Chase sat in the living room nursing a whiskey, his laptop open to the CAD program he’d bought. To distract himself from missing Sylvie, he’d begun playing with a few designs.

  The meeting to finalize the mall sale was scheduled for next week. The offer was slightly lower, but still attractive, and Portland beckoned. Everything was working out, but he was miserable.

  “There you are, son.” His father came into the room holding a sack. He always behaved as if whichever son he wanted to talk to had been hiding from him. “I wanted to give you back that Santa suit.” He plopped the bag onto the table and sat beside Chase. “What are you up to?”

  “Fooling around with some designs. The architect we’re using got me interested again.”

  “Hobbies are good if you don’t make too much of them.”

  “You never believed I’d make it as an architect back then, did you? When it was my major.”

  “I had no opinion. I never went to college. I wanted you at McCann Development, but as I recall, you complained that the coursework was too demanding.”

  Chase paused, thinking back. Was that true? He’d felt guilty for wasting so much money and time, but had he complained? It was very possible.

  “You were all fired up about finance, I believe. You thought it was more up your alley.”

  That might have been exactly how it sounded to his father, Chase realized. Since Chase had taken a longer look at their relationship, he’d begun to see he’d been somewhat unfair. He’d inferred negative opinions from his father out of old resentments and his own doubts. The General in Chase’s head had been his harshest critic.

  “Kind of like me and fly-fishing,” the General continued. “I always had this hope that you two would take over the company so I’d have time to fish. I wanted to hit every trout stream in the Western U.S. before I died.”

  “I’ve never seen you with a fishing pole in your hands.”

  His father frowned. “I fish. I certainly have fished.”

  “Then go for it. Take off and fish. Fletcher can take over easily. In fact, he should take over.”

  His father frowned. “I don’t need any advice on how to run my company. And certainly not from you.”

  “Because of Vegas? That’s getting old, Dad. I made a mistake, but I know what I’m doing and I’ll pay back the investors every cent. My word is my bond.”

  “Of course it is. You’re a McCann,” he said gruffly.

  Chase let his anger go. “All I’m saying, Dad, is that you need to trust Fletcher more. Whether you go fly-fishing or sit around staring at your navel, hand the reins to Fletcher. That’s what Mom would want.”

  His father looked him in the eye. “You’re different this trip. You seem more…settled. More like yourself.”

  “Maybe I am.” He wanted to be different—better. He had ever since he’d gotten close to Sylvie. Determination rose in him, hot and strong. He pictured her face, the love he’d seen in her eyes when she’d been in his arms.

  His father exhaled heavily. “You know the truth, I have no idea what became of my rods. For all I know, Nadia may have given them to Goodwill. They were pricey, too, let me tell you.”

  Chase laughed, pleased by his father’s admission of weakness. “Hell, we all tell ourselves stories about who we are and what we think we want.”

  “That may be. I’ll leave you with your deep thoughts. Get that costume back to where it belongs. I had a damn good time as Santa, I don’t mind saying. That Sylvie.” His father shook his head, smiling. “Never underestimate that girl.”

  “Oh, I won’t,” Chase said. “I never have.”

  His father gave him a curious look. “Don’t underestimate yourself, either. You’re a McCann man. Act like it.”

  Chase smiled. His dad had turned kindly advice into an insult, but he had a point. Had Chase limited himself?

  Had he given up before he’d even tried?

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  SYLVIE WAS GETTING READY for the mall’s Christmas party. She zipped up her dress—black velveteen with a red-and-green plaid skirt—slipped her gold hoops into her ears and looked at herself in the mirror. She looked limp. Even her hair seemed heartbroken—her curls were soggy blond sausages.

  Dasher lay, chin on paws, at the foot of the bed, watching her. She was bringing him along for moral support and had tied a red ribbon around his collar. He’d been her own special holiday gift from Chase. Chase had given her a lot, despite how badly it had ended.

  She gathered up the shopping bags with her gifts—individual acrylic tree ornaments for each tenant. For Marshall and his sons, she had an engrossing board game from Germany that required cooperation to play. For Chase, she’d bought a book on green architecture and inscribed it with a note about how she hoped he would always be true to himself.

  After the party, she would focus on her next move, update her résumé and check out the job market. It all made her so weary.

  The doorbell rang.

  It was her mother dressed in a tie-dye dress in red and green, chandelier earrings in fiery jewel colors. She carried a satchel loaded with tissue-wrapped presents.

  Since their talk, Sylvie had begun to see her mother more clearly for who she was, with all her flaws and gifts. Sylvie’s secret grudge had doubled the distance between them and she intended to correct that.

  “Hi, Mom.” Sylvie leaned forward to hug her mother, Desiree’s complicated earrings pressing into Sylvie’s cheeks, her scents enveloping her—sandalwood, clay, paint and burned pastry—each revealing one of her mother’s passions.

  “I love when you call me Mom,” Desiree said. “Is that terminally sappy? Listen, I had this new idea—blown-glass water bottles! You refill them, so it’s environmentally friendly, and they’re beautiful, right? I know it’s not my business plan, but it could be, don’t you think?”

  Her mother was so eager, so wide-eyed. Sylvie could see her as a little girl showing a painting to her sober accountant parents, her fingers and clothes stained and messy. Her restless artist’s soul must have befuddled them completely.

  Sylvie smiled. “It’s worth looking into, Mom.”

  “But only if I work it out fully—market niche and distribution and all that hoo-hah.”

  “You’re learning.”

  “I try to be a better person every day, Sylvie.”

  “Yeah. You do.” Chase had asked her if people could change. Her mother was certainly trying to.

  “You look pretty damn droopy for someone about to go to a Christmas party. I know this hasn’t been easy on you.”

  “No, it hasn’t.”

  Her mother looked her over. “Let’s talk a minute.” She led Sylvie by the hand to her sofa and sat beside her. Dasher jumped onto Desiree’s lap and curled into a contented ball.

  “You know I want the best for you, right? I want you to find love, hon, because that is so—”

  “Mom, please—” This was the last thing she wanted to think about before seeing Chase.

  “Hold on. It finally dawned on me why you got cranky when I mentioned Steve. You’re afraid you’re like me, aren’t you? That you’ll get your heart broken like I do?”

  Sylvie didn’t know how to respond. “In a way, yes.”

  Desiree squeezed her hand. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. You’re not me. You’re about as not me as you can get.” She motioned at how Sylvie was dressed comp
ared to her.

  “You’re your own person, Sylvie. You won’t fall in love the way I do and you won’t make my mistakes.” Desiree’s eyes, the same green as her own, searched Sylvie’s face.

  “You know how to build a life with someone. You’re steady and stable and dependable. Everything in your life proves it. Why would you be different in love?”

  Sylvie dropped her head in her hands. “I’m scared. It hurts so much. We’re too different. And he’s leaving anyway.”

  “You’re talking about Chase, right? When I saw you together on Black Friday I suspected as much.”

  Sylvie raised her eyes to her mother’s.

  “Life is risk, babe,” her mother said. “What’s that bit about the harbor being safe, but that’s not what boats are for? Don’t make your world into a dollhouse. Sure, you limit your pain that way, but you miss out on so much joy. You deserve joy. Lots of joy.”

  Sylvie’s throat constricted so she could hardly breathe.

  “You have to embrace the chaos, open yourself to the world, open your heart to—” Her mother stopped her wild gesturing. “I mean in your sensible, practical way, of course.”

  Sylvie stifled a sob. She couldn’t help it.

  “Oh, honey.” Desiree pulled Sylvie into her arms. “You know, you’ve never cried in front of me before.”

  “Sure I have,” Sylvie said, sniffling.

  “Not as a grown-up and not when it counted.” Desiree leaned away to look at her. “Give yourself a chance with Chase. Don’t hold back. You can take it.”

  “You think so?”

  “I know so. You amaze me. I’d give anything for a dose of your good sense.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Of course not. But you could lose the smug eye-roll.”

  “Deal.” She realized for the first time ever, Desiree had helped her. Or maybe it was the first time Sylvie had given her the chance to try.

  Sylvie touched up her makeup, they gathered their gift bags, put Dasher on a leash and headed out for the party arm in arm. The whole time, Sylvie’s mind raced with the implications of her mother’s words.

  Could Sylvie be as sensible in love as she was in everything else? Could she be practical and romantic?

  She glanced at her mother, who was communing with Dasher. When you love something, you find a way.

  That’s what Chase had said about fitting Dasher into her life. Could she find a way with him? He would have to want it, too. And she wasn’t sure he did. He might have been secretly relieved it was over. There was only one way to find out.

  CHASE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE at the Christmas party, but he didn’t feel much like celebrating. Instead, he was in his office looking over the final notes on the contract with MegaMalls. All he had to do was sign these papers and fax them back and the deal was done. Marshall and Fletcher had already signed off.

  For some reason, Chase couldn’t yet do it. He glanced across the room and spotted Sylvie’s red umbrella leaning against the wall. On it she’d stenciled her promise that the mall family would weather all storms.

  Sylvie and her mall.

  Reaching for the umbrella, he accidentally brushed papers off the desk. Bending to pick them up, he saw they were the printout of Sylvie’s PowerPoint presentation, where she’d explained how the mall was unique, the shoppers loyal, the mall employees like a family.

  In the past few days he’d seen how right she’d been. The store owners hated moving, even the ones with better locations to go to, and there’d been sincere letters and calls protesting the loss of Starlight Desert to the area.

  On top of that, now that they were selling, Chase had become as sentimental about the place as his father.

  Dammit. He left the office and walked the length of the mall, remembering what Sylvie had told him about conversion rates and food booths and the shopping tide of early-morning seniors to after-work dash-ins.

  Now, the mall was jammed with Christmas shoppers. Revenues were stronger than ever. PriceLess had submitted an even more attractive offer, which they’d had to turn down.

  He watched Theo help a woman with her stroller, then give the cranky child inside a free sample juice—something Sylvie had taste-tested no doubt.

  There was a silk robe on display in Lucy’s Secrets just like Sylvie’s. Festive aromas from Heaven Scents, where Chase had hunted down Sylvie’s cherry blossom lotion, filled the air.

  He passed the banana tree where Sylvie had tossed her shirt during their campout. He smiled, remembering the crackling-fire screensaver, the hot plate s’mores. They’d forgotten to slide down the tile in the wool socks she’d bought.

  He stopped, hit by a memory of his mother and him when he was a child. He’d been about nine and frantic for her to drive him to meet a friend for a movie. She’d been delayed by a store problem until it was too late. He’d been angry. You care more about this stupid mall than your own family, he’d said.

  She’d kneeled down to talk to him. “You know that you and your brother and father are at the center of me, Chase,” she’d said softly, making a circle around her chest. “But out here—” she made a larger circle “—is Starlight Desert.”

  He’d been instantly ashamed of his tantrum and listened as she spoke more about how the mall was a way for the McCann family to give back to the town, because they’d been so very fortunate.

  “Starlight Desert mall is a gift to all the people who shop here and to the people who own the stores and sell the goods they make.”

  She’d sounded a lot like Sylvie, now that he thought about it. This wasn’t the first time he’d noticed their similarities. There’s more to Starlight Desert than its bottom line, Sylvie had said. His mother would agree.

  Strangely enough, he was beginning to himself.

  WHEN SYLVIE STEPPED into the McCanns’ house, everyone cheered, which made her cheeks heat. The room was bright with decorations and garlands and wreaths, reminding her of that Christmas she’d spent here so long ago. A huge tree with multicolored lights gave off the pine smell of winter.

  “Here’s to Sylvie!” someone shouted. With a sound like rushing wind, red umbrellas opened up all over the room. Sylvie laughed as everyone slid sunglasses onto their faces.

  They were making the best of this sad situation. In fact, everyone seemed unnaturally happy. Were they all drunk?

  She looked around the room for Chase, but didn’t see him. Shoot. She desperately wanted to talk things over with him. That would have to wait, she guessed.

  She did see Marshall and Fletcher. Marshall looked delighted, Fletcher almost stunned. What was up with them?

  “Everyone!” Sunni clapped her hands and when all eyes were on her, said, “Sylvie, we want to thank you for teaching us that no matter what happens, if we keep the spirit of Starlight Desert within us, we can weather any storm.” She held out a gift box to Sylvie. “This is from all of us to you.”

  With trembling fingers, Sylvie opened the box to find a ceramic model of Starlight Desert, made by her mother, no doubt, with the words You Made Our Mall Home embedded in the base.

  She didn’t even try to hide her tears.

  She thanked everyone as best she could, then went to get a glass of Christmas punch, trying to settle herself. She would miss these people so much it was almost too hard to bear. Their good cheer in the face of adversity was the best gift she could ever receive.

  She looked up to see Marshall motioning her over, grinning like a crazy person. “What’s up?” she said.

  “Chase had to miss the party, but he wants you to meet him at Starlight Desert. He has a gift, I believe.” Marshall’s eyes twinkled like the Santa he’d pretended to be.

  “He wanted us to tell you he’s challenged you to a Nerf duel at dawn, whatever the hell that means,” Fletcher said, half smiling. “I’m afraid my brother has fallen down the rabbit hole.” He took her hand. “You have my best wishes, Sylvie.”

  “Thank you,” she said, her heart tripping in her chest. What d
id Chase want to give her?

  She had something for him, too—the heart she’d taken back only days before.

  SYLVIE ENTERED THE DARKENED mall with Dasher on his leash. Chase had mentioned a Nerf battle, so she headed toward the toy store. As she neared the middle of the mall, though, she picked up the faint sound of guitar music, then heard Chase call her name.

  She turned to the central island and he rose from a camp chair in front of a tent. Dasher yelped in excitement and Sylvie’s heart silently joined in.

  “You got my message,” he said, reaching for her hand to help her over the wall. She grabbed Dasher and brought him up, too. The music came from a small boom box. Chase motioned to a clump of votive candles. “My campfire,” he said. “I told Leo I’d handle inside security tonight. If he saw these he’d come after us with a fire extinguisher.”

  She laughed. “What’s going on, Chase?”

  “Big things, Sylvie. Have a seat.”

  She sat in the chair beside him, her dress and pumps seeming silly in this setting, but she didn’t care one bit.

  Chase waved a thick stack of paper at her. “This is the offer from MegaMalls waiting for my signature.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I thought you’d like to watch me finish this thing.”

  “Why would you think that?” And why was he grinning?

  He tore the sheets in half, then half again and again, tossing the scraps like confetti.

  “What are you doing? What does this mean?”

  “It means you did it, Sylvie. You made me see Starlight Desert as more than a business.”

  “But you said the offer was too good to pass up. Really? You’re serious?” Sylvie thought she might pass out from shock and delight.

  “You made me remember what the place meant to my mother. Starlight Desert was her gift to the city and I want to keep giving it.”

  “But you said McCann Development needed the money.”