Home for the Holiday

by Wendy Stone

  "We'll be down in a bit, Mom. We're taking a shower.” He glared at me as I smacked him on the arm for saying that.

  "Both of you?” she asked cautiously.

  "Yeah, Mom, both of us."

  I could hear the disapproval in her voice and knew she'd be glaring at me all during dinner. I never guessed how bad it would be.

  "You and Kasey hurry up. Dinner is getting cold.

  "It's Kenna,” I growled, but kept my voice down.

  "It's Kenna, Mom, not Kasey,” he called.

  "Yeah, isn't that what I said?"

  "You know you didn't, Mom."

  She moved away from the door and I could almost sense the hatred in her eyes. Eyes so like Nicky's, though his glowed with love and with tenderness for me.

  "Give her time to get used to the idea that we are together and that I plan to marry you, whether it's in a church or outside in a hurricane. I don't much care about the setting, just that it's you and me. I love you, Kenna."

  I felt the tear that ran down my cheek and ignored it. He was so, so romantic. “I love you, Nick. As far as I'm concerned we could hop a flight to Las Vegas and spend the rest of our vacation time shooting craps and playing the slots as Mr. and Mrs. Evans."

  "That's a tempting thought. Very tempting,” he said with a grin as he ran his hands over my body, washing me quickly and then giving me a gentle shove to the door.

  I got out and grabbed one of the huge bath sheets, wrapping it around myself while I used his blow dryer to do something with my hair. I finally left it half wet and pulled it back into a French braid. Grabbing the green dress, I also gathered my underwear and was about to leave the steamy bathroom.

  "Oh, I don't get to watch?” Nicky asked, stepping out of the shower and grabbing a towel to dry himself off. He was unashamed of his nakedness, as only a guy can be.

  "Fine,” I said. I draped the dress over the door and set my lingerie on the counter. Dropping my towel, I reached for the pale green silk panties, stepping into them and pulling them on. They clung to me in the steaminess of the bathroom and Nicky couldn't stop himself from reaching out and touching the softness of the silk and my skin before I slapped his hand.

  "You touch and we'll be even later, and you know it,” I growled at him, reaching for my bra. It was the same pale green silk, but the top two-thirds were lace. My hardened nipples were very apparent through the lace and he groaned again. The towel he was wearing around his waist was beginning to tent up.

  "I told you, this isn't a very good idea."

  "I think it's a marvelous idea,” Nicky said, coming closer so that my breasts were pressed into his chest. “Have I ever told you how completely gorgeous you are?"

  "No, I think you've been very lax in your duties,” I said, wagging my finger under his noise. He moved his head quickly and bit down on my finger, taking it gently into his mouth and playing with it using his teeth and tongue.

  "This is not the way to get us dressed to go down to dinner,” I told him, but there was a quiver to my voice beyond my control.

  "I'm not all that hungry,” he said. “Well, for food anyway.” He whispered in my ear what he was hungry for and a blush rose to my face. “What do you say?"

  "I say that your mother would hate me even more if I didn't drag your protesting carcass down to sit in a chair for her.” I managed to get out of his arms and I pulled off his towel, my eyes dropping to his groin. “You really meant it, didn't you?"

  "Yes, I did,” but he sighed. “But you're right, if we don't go down, she'll skin us both. But we can always retire early,” he said as he zipped up the back of my dress for me.

  "Yes, we can,” I said, smiling up at him. “Now hurry and get dressed so we can go face the beast."

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Thirteen

  He finally got dressed and we proceeded down the wide, curved staircase with its shiny oak banisters. Nicky led me through the house, stopping at the small salon. “We have a social drink here before dinner,” he whispered in my ear, guiding me into the room with a hand at my waist. I smiled, hoping that I could pull off confidence and poise when I felt like the new girlfriend at a family reunion.

  "Ah, there you are, dear,” Mrs. Grenfield said, rising to kiss Nicky on the cheek. “We were beginning to wonder if Kayla was going to monopolize you this entire trip."

  I kept my mouth shut. How I don't know, but I did. I would garner this woman's respect in some way, I just didn't know how.

  "It's Kenna, Mom, not Kayla,” Nicky said, his hand going from the small of my back to my shoulder and pulling me closer.

  I went, giving Mrs. Grenfield a small smile that let her know she wasn't getting to me. She wasn't getting to me. Okay, she was but I'd be damned if I was going to let her know that.

  "Oh, isn't that what I said?” she sniffed a little and then gave me a look like something smelled bad and it was me. The old bitch was going down. But I wouldn't lose Nick in the process, he meant too much to me.

  "Well, I read somewhere that the memory is the first thing to go when you've reached such an advanced, shall we say, age,” I said just loud enough for only her to hear. She bristled. I'd heard of people doing that but I'd never seen it before, not until then. I thought she would go for my throat and I looked forward to the confrontation. But she took a deep breath and got control of herself.

  "Can I get you something to drink, Kenna?” she asked, stressing my name meaningfully. Well, at least I got her to call me by my name.

  "A glass of juice would be wonderful,” I said.

  Mrs. Grenfield looked at me as if I'd asked for the impossible. “Juice? Nicky dear, is she too young to drink?” She stared down at me as if I was still in the cradle.

  "No, Mrs. Grenfield,” I said succinctly, “I am a few years past the allowable age. I just think I'll need my senses about me this evening.” I took the glass of juice that her husband brought me and thanked him with a smile.

  "Your usual, Nicky?” she asked her son, heading to the small bar in the corner of the room. It was the only thing even remotely male about the room, beautiful oak with a bright copper railing around the bottom. Everything else looked as if someone had come in with a bunch of flowers and thrown them everywhere. Even the rug had a floral pattern.

  I watched as she fetched her son a drink, linking her arm in his and pulling him into the room. I followed and found a seat across from where Nicky's mother pulled him to sit upon the ugliest floral-patterned love seat I had ever seen. “Tell me everything,” she gushed. “I want to hear all about what you do at that place."

  "Do you mean Michigan? It's a state, Mom. It's not like I've moved to Siberia and live in a freaking igloo or something."

  "I know, but it's just so ... ick,” she said, staring at me out of the corner of her eyes when she said it. I got the message right away. Michigan wasn't what was icky, I was. Bitch, I thought. Two can play at this game.

  "That's so true. I mean before we came here, I'd never heard of so many people stacked up in one place, kind of like sardines in a can, don't you agree?” I turned toward Mr. Grenfield, who'd been pretty silent until now. I think he was a bit embarrassed by his wife's actions but didn't know what to do to stop them.

  "But along with all those ‘sardines’ comes culture and class and society,” Mrs. Grenfield said, looking down her long patrician nose. It had to be a nose job; no one's nose is that thin at birth.

  "As well as rape and robberies and murder,” I threw right back at her. “Not to mention the poverty and the people living in the streets who have nothing and beg everyday just to be able to eat. Yes, this is a great place, it has so much going for it over Michigan.” I hadn't meant to take it that far but now that I had, I was not backing down.

  "So you would get rid of the theatres and the ballets as well as all the museums and give that money to the poor,” Mrs. Grenfield threw at me.

  "I didn't say that. I think, though, if some of the money that you give your hair
dresser or your manicurist was giving to the poor, there would be a lot less crime and death. Some of these people are driven to crime by sheer need. They don't see any other way out."

  There was a knock on the door and Mrs. Grenfield clapped her hands excitedly. “I ran into someone today and invited them for dinner tonight. I hope you don't mind, Nicky."

  Lucy went and answered the door. I glanced through the doorway but all I could see were well-manicured nails painted vivid red on long fingers. They handed Lucy a beautiful fur which had to cost more than I make in a month. I wasn't prepared for the whole picture. She came into the room, greeting Mrs. Grenfield with airy kisses, six inches from her cheek.

  She was dressed in red leather, slick and formfitting. Her shoes made her tower over me and I knew I was just going to hate this night all the more now. Especially as she made her way over to Nicky, who had tensed up the minute she'd entered the room. Giving him a toothy smile as he rose from his seat, she pressed herself against him, her hands digging into his hair to bring his mouth down to hers.

  I wanted to pull every dyed-blonde hair out of her head. I probably would have if Nicky hadn't pushed the woman away and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “What are you doing here, Nadia?"

  "I've missed you, Nicky. I ran into your mother as she was walking out of the nail salon and she told me you were home, visiting. She graciously invited me for dinner, since you have been ignoring me, you bad boy."

  I could feel my body stiffening as she put her hand on Nicky's chest. Those bright red nails looked more like claws now. My hand fisted and I had to physically restrain myself from kicking her ass. I gave Nicky a look that promised this wasn't over.

  "Nadia, I want to introduce you to someone,” he said, coming to stand next to me. I got up and he put an arm around me, one I almost shrugged off. I couldn't believe his mother would stoop so low. Maybe I should have expected it. At least then it wouldn't seem like a slap in the face.

  "Kenna, this is Nadia, a good friend. Nadia, this is my fiancée, Kenna McEwen."

  The woman gave me a once over and then I was dismissed. “You're not getting married, Nicky,” she said, tracing the buttons on his shirt with one clawed finger. “That would be a crime.” She leaned in closer until her breasts almost pressed into Nick's chest. “Let's forget about dinner and go out dancing. Then maybe we could head over to my apartment and,” she paused, glancing around as if this was a huge secret, “get to know each other again."

  I couldn't take it any longer. I stepped closer, forced to look up at her because of those incredibly tall high heels. “Listen very closely,” I said, my voice just above a whisper. “Nick is no longer on the market, nor is he on any menu. He's engaged and is marrying me. So...” and I stared pointedly where her finger was still on him, “back the fuck off."

  "Well,” Nadia growled at me and I thought for a moment of a feral cat, claws bare, hissing with her back arched. “Nicky are you going to let this ... this person talk to me that way?"

  Nick stepped back and wrapped his arm around me once more. “Yes, I guess I am. What part of engaged didn't you get, Nadia? I am no longer interested in clubbing or going to your apartment.” He leaned down and whispered something in my ear, making me laugh.

  "Mom, Dad, we are going to go out for dinner since the atmosphere in here is a little more feline then we'd like."

  "Son,” Mr. Grenfield said, “got room for one more?"

  "Sure do, Dad,” Nicky said after glancing down at me. I smiled at Mr. Grenfield. I was really getting to like that man.

  "B-but what about dinner? Lucy's been preparing food all day, all your favorite dishes, Nicky.” Mrs. Grenfield was in a quandary and Nadia's presence hadn't done what she'd hoped it would.

  "Lucy will forgive us, I have no doubt,” Mr. Grenfield said. “Now, quit your blustering, Helen. You brought this one on yourself. I told you to stay out of Nick's business, but you never listen to me."

  Nick grabbed the coats out of the closet and handed mine to me. I slipped it on, still seeing red. I couldn't help it. I'd never expected that the woman would go so far as to parade Nicky's exes in front of me. I growled low in my throat and turned to leave the room, stepping outside to climb down the short flight of stairs that lead to the street. Pacing kept me warm and I had my anger to wrap around me. Every time I thought of that woman touching Nick like that, with his mother looking on approvingly, I thought I'd scream.

  "Baby?” Nick said coming up behind me.

  I twirled. “Does she hate me so much? What did I ever do to her for her to do these things?” I was shivering, but it wasn't from the cold. I was angry.

  Nick pulled me into his arms. “It's not you, honey. It's any woman I ever brought home to meet her. I think she wants me to find a carbon copy of her."

  "Even that wouldn't be good enough,” Nick's dad said, coming down the stairs. “Are you okay?” he asked, lifting my chin with his fingers. “Helen can be a lot to take, but one thing you have to give her. She really does want what's best for Nicky and for him to be happy. You come from the place that stole her baby away and she looks on you as one more thing out there that's keeping him there. She's not normally rude or callous."

  I looked up at him. I could see a lot of Nicky in him. He had the same wide-spaced intelligent and gentle eyes, the same little cowlick at his temple; he even smiled a bit crookedly. “I guess, when you put it that way, I can understand why she hates me so much."

  "It's not hate, Kenna. She feels threatened by you, which is why she pulled out the big guns. I haven't seen Nadia since you dumped her, Nick, right before you left. And Helen didn't have an appointment today at any salon."

  "So she decided to bring a bleached blonde bimbo in to stir things up?” I sighed. Deciding to forget the whole thing, I changed the topic of conversation. “So, where are we heading for dinner?"

  Nick pressed a soft kiss to my forehead and I watched as his father got a cab. He sat in front and Nick and I sat close to each other. “There's this new place, it's somewhat outside the city but I've heard it's excellent. I know the owner pretty well. It's called Abstracts. Shall we try it?"

  "Don't we need reservations?"

  "No, I do all their legal work for them. I know that Nashe will have a table for us."

  * * * *

  Nashe was a well built, leanly muscled man, evident by the way his shirt stretched across his chest. His wife, Terry, was a beautiful blonde who had a smile on her face and one hand on her well-rounded belly.

  We were shown to a table that had a VIP card sitting in the center. I couldn't help but stare around the room. The place was funky, not like the usual fancy restaurants I'd seen. The booth's had high backs but were cut out in strange shapes. Even the lighting was a bit different, with beautiful stained glass fixtures that made the colors swirl a bit around the room.

  "Wow,” I said, “this is something else."

  "Nashe is head chef here and owns the place. Wait until you taste his food. He's an excellent chef, has a way of combining flavors that makes the food almost sing."

  "I'll make sure to tell him you said that,” Terry said, coming up to the table. “James, it's great to see you. You have to be his son; you two look so much alike."

  "We get that all the time,” Nick's dad said. “You look about to pop."

  Terry slid her hand down the front of her plain white shirt. “Another couple of weeks and then I'll be able to put these guys down."

  "Guys?"

  "Oh yes, multiple births run in Nashe's family.” She looked up and saw one of the waiters signaling her. “Have a wonderful meal,” she said, touching James's shoulder. “Come by more often, James, we miss you around here.

  She nodded at me and at Nick before turning to go back to her duties. “She's beautiful,” I said.

  "Yes,” James said, “motherhood seems to suit her well. Okay, you two, what sounds good? It's on me."

  It took me no time at all to realize some of the ways Nicky took a
fter his father. I was fascinated by watching the two of them verbally spar.

  The waiter came and took our order. The service was impeccable, quick, and unobtrusive. But the food was the highlight of the night. Everything seemed to melt in my mouth and I ate until I was so stuffed it hurt.

  "I'm going to do two hours in the gym after this meal,” I said, groaning.

  The men got up and I managed to not have to roll myself out of the restaurant. While his dad paid the bill, Nicky and I went outside. The parking lot was a little dark. I looked up, smiling as I saw the stars. “That's one thing you can't get in any place in New York City,” I said, pointing up at the stars. Just as I did that, a shooting star blazed across the sky. “Quick,” I said to Nick. “Make a wish."

  I closed my eyes and made the wish. It was fairly self-serving but I didn't have much choice. Then Nick's dad came out and we got in the car. I sat in the back seat, next to Nick. The cab smelled like popcorn and stale cigarettes. Nicky wrapped his arm around me and held me close the entire way back to his parent's house.

  Nadia was still there. I couldn't take any more of her cooing over Nick. “I have a headache, Nick, I think I'll go up and go to bed."

  "This doesn't have anything to do with Nadia?” he asked as he took my coat and hung it up in the closet. “Honey, I don't love her, I never did. You are the one and only for me.” He reached out and took my hand. He brought it to his lips, kissing my finger where his ring was. “I wouldn't hurt you that way."

  "I know, baby. I guess I'm just a little train-lagged."

  "Okay, I'll go in and say goodnight to my parents and then I'll be up, too,” Nick said, leaning down to kiss me. For some reason, I wanted to cling to him with everything I had and tell him not to go in, to just go up with me. But I didn't.

  My heart was heavy when I climbed the stairs. Something bad was going to happen, I could feel it.

  The bed was turned down invitingly when I walked into his room. Frost made tiny ice pictures on the windows. I went to one of them and placed my hand flat against it, feeling the cold outside. When I removed my hand, a perfect picture of my hand was there. I went to my suitcase and rummaged through it, looking for something to wear to bed.