Trading Christmas

by Debbie Macomber

  “I’m so glad it’s snowing,” she said excitedly.

  “Why wouldn’t it snow today? It’s snowed every day since I got here.”

  “Not true,” she countered, but then admitted he was right. It had snowed every day at some point. Watching the thick white flakes drifting down was a holiday ideal. She felt like a child again.

  “Oh, my,” she said, unaware that she’d spoken aloud.

  “What?”

  Faith shook her head, not wanting to answer. She realized that she’d forgotten what it felt like to be happy. It was as though a fog had lifted and the world had become newly vivid, the colors clear and pure. Her gaze flew across the table and she looked at Charles. She knew immediately that he was responsible for her change of attitude. Spending these days with him had opened her to the joy of the season and the promise of love. The divorce had robbed her of so much, shredded her self-confidence, undercut trust and faith and made her doubt herself. It had taken her a long time to deal with the loss, but she was stronger now. She could expect good things in her life. She could anticipate happiness.

  “Faith?” he asked with a quizzical expression. “What is it?”

  She glanced quickly away and dismissed his question with another shake of her head. “Nothing important.”

  “Then tell me.”

  She smiled. “I was just thinking how happy I am to be here, having breakfast with you on Christmas morning.”

  Charles let the comment rest between them for a long moment. “With me?”

  She giggled because he sounded so shocked. “Yes, Charles, with you. Is that so strange?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes. I’m not accustomed to anyone enjoying my company.”

  “Well, I do.” She reached for an extra strip of bacon to create a distraction for herself.

  Charles set his fork aside and sat back in his chair, staring across the table as if she’d taken his breath away.

  Faith grew uncomfortable under his scrutiny. “What is it?” she demanded.

  He grinned. “I was just thinking that I could love you.”

  “Charles!”

  “This isn’t a joke—I’m completely sincere. I’m halfway in love with you already. But I know what you’re going to say.”

  “I’m sure you don’t.”

  “Yes, I do,” he insisted. “You’re thinking it’s much too soon and I couldn’t possibly know my feelings yet. Two weeks from now, our encounter will be just a memory.”

  That was what she was thinking, although Faith badly wanted to stay in touch with Charles once they parted. But there was more to her reaction than that.

  “I’m just so happy,” she said, “and I realized I haven’t been in a long time.”

  “Happy with me?”

  She nodded.

  “Could we…you know, call each other after the holidays?” He seemed almost afraid of her response.

  “I’d like that.”

  His eyes sparkled with undisguised pleasure. “I was recently approached by Berkeley about a teaching position,” he confided. “Is that anywhere close to you?”

  “It’s very close.”

  He took in that information with a slight nod. “Good. That’s good.”

  The doorbell chimed, and Faith dropped her napkin on the table, rising to her feet. “I’ll get it.” She suspected it was one or more of the Kennedy kids, coming to thank Charles for the gifts. She wondered what he’d bought her; from all the hints he’d been dropping, she suspected it was something special. She’d found a small antique paperweight for him, and that, too, was under the tree.

  When she opened the door, it wasn’t the Kennedy kids she saw. Instead, there stood Sam with the six dwarfs crowding around him. The dwarfs looked as if all they needed was a word of encouragement before rushing inside and attacking Charles en masse.

  “Sam!” she cried and was instantly crushed in a big hug.

  “We came to check up on you,” Tony said, peering inside the house.

  “Yes,” Allen added. “We wanted to make sure Scrooge was good to you.”

  “Everything’s fine,” she assured her friends, bringing them into the house—and bringing them up to date. By that time, Charles had joined them in the living room.

  Santa’s elves peered up at him suspiciously.

  Tony took a step closer. “She said you’ve had an attitude adjustment. Is that true?”

  Charles nodded, a solemn expression on his face. “Faith won me over.”

  Sam chuckled. “We thought we’d give you a ride back to Seattle, Faith, so you can catch your flight tomorrow afternoon.”

  “I’ll drive her.” Charles moved to her side, placing his arm around her shoulders.

  “We’re just finishing breakfast but there’s plenty if you haven’t eaten.”

  “We haven’t,” Sam said promptly, and the seven of them rushed into the kitchen.

  “Can you stay for dinner?” Charles asked, surprising Faith with the invitation.

  “No, no, we don’t want to intrude. Besides, we have to head out soon for flights of our own. The only reason we came was to make sure everything was all right with Faith.”

  “I’m having a wonderful Christmas,” Faith told her friends.

  And I’m going to have a wonderful life.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  “I’ve never eaten at the Four Seasons in my life,” Emily said anxiously, “Christmas or not.” She was sure there’d be more spoons at a single place setting than she had in her entire kitchen.

  “It’s where Mother always stays when she’s in town,” Ray told her. His hand rested on the small of her back as he directed her into the huge and elegantly decorated hotel lobby, dominated by a massive Christmas tree.

  Emily glanced around, hoping to see Heather. Her daughter had been shocked to find her and Ray together. Although mortified that Heather had caught her half-undressed—well, with her blouse unfastened, anyway—Emily had hurriedly introduced them. Then, summoning all the panache she could muster, she’d announced that she hadn’t slept with him.

  Her cheeks flamed at the memory of how she’d managed to embarrass all three of them in one short sentence.

  “Do you see Heather?” Emily asked, scanning the lobby.

  “No,” Ray murmured, “but I’m not looking for her.”

  The two people she held so dear hadn’t exactly gotten off on the right foot, and Emily blamed herself.

  Ray had tried to explain that the condo actually belonged to his brother, Professor Brewster, but Heather had been too flustered and confused to respond. The scene had been awkward, to say the least. Complicating everything, Heather had immediately stumbled out.

  She’d rushed after Heather to invite her to the hotel for Christmas dinner. Her daughter had pretended not to hear, then stepped into the elevator and cast Emily a disgusted look. She’d shaken her head disapprovingly, as if the last place on earth she wanted to be was with her mother and that…man.

  Emily had gone back into the apartment with her stomach in knots. She still felt ill; her stomachache hadn’t abated since last night and she’d hardly been able to force down any breakfast.

  “She’ll be here any minute,” Ray told her.

  “Do you think so?” Emily’s voice swelled with anticipation and renewed hope.

  Ray exhaled loudly. “Actually, I was referring to my mother.”

  “Oh.” Her shoulders deflated.

  “Heather will make her own decision,” Ray said, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

  “I know.” Emily had already realized that, but it was hard not to call her and smooth things out, despite Heather’s rude behavior. To be estranged from her only child on Christmas Day was almost more than Emily could bear. If she hadn’t heard from her by early evening, she knew she’d break down and call.

  “Rayburn!” His mother stepped out of the elevator, minus FiFi the Pomeranian. She held out her arms to her son as she slowly glided across the lobby. Several heads turned in
their direction.

  “Mother likes to make an entrance,” Ray said under his breath.

  “So I noticed.”

  Bernice Brewster hugged Ray as if it’d been years since their last meeting, and then shifted her attention to Emily. Clasping both of Emily’s hands, the older woman smiled benevolently.

  “I am so pleased that my son has finally found someone so special.”

  “Mother, stop it,” Ray hissed under his breath.

  Emily quite enjoyed his discomfort. “Ray’s the special one, Mrs. Brewster.”

  “I do agree, but it takes the right woman to recognize what a prize he is.”

  “What time is the dinner reservation?” Ray asked in an obvious attempt to change the subject.

  “Three-thirty,” his mother informed him. “I do hope you’re hungry.”

  “I’m famished,” Emily said, although it wasn’t true. Worried as she was about Heather, she didn’t know if she could eat a single bite. “I, uh, hope you don’t mind, but I invited my daughter to join us…. She didn’t know if she could make it or not.”

  Ray gripped her hand at the telltale wobble in her voice.

  “Is anything wrong, my dear?” Mrs. Brewster asked.

  “I—Heather and I had a bit of a disagreement.”

  “Children inflict those on their parents every now and then.” Ray’s mother looked pointedly in his direction. “Isn’t that right, Rayburn?”

  Ray cleared his throat and agreed. “It’s been known to happen. Every now and then, as you say.”

  “Don’t you worry,” the older woman said, gently patting Emily’s forearm. “We’ll ask the maître d’ to seat us at a table for four and trust your daughter has the good sense to make an appearance.”

  “I hope she does, too.”

  Ray spoke to the maître d’ and they were led to a table with four place settings. Emily was surprised by the number of people who ate dinner in a restaurant on Christmas Day. Aujourd’hui was full, with a long waiting list, if the people assembled near the front were any indication.

  The maître d’ seated Mrs. Brewster, and Ray pulled out Emily’s chair. She was half seated when she saw Heather. Her daughter rushed into the restaurant foyer, glancing around the tables until she caught sight of Emily. A smile brightened her pretty face, and she came into the room, dragging a young man. It took Emily only a moment to recognize Ben.

  Emily stood to meet her daughter.

  “Mom!” Heather threw her arms around Emily’s neck. “I’m so glad I found you.”

  Emily struggled with emotion. “I am, too.” She could hardly speak since her throat was clogged with tears.

  “Hi,” Heather said, turning to Ray. She extended her hand. “We sort of met last night. I’m Heather.”

  Ray stood, and they exchanged handshakes. “Ray.” He motioned to his mother. “This is my mother, Bernice Brewster.”

  “And this is Ben Miller,” Heather said, slipping her arm around the young man’s waist. She pressed her head against his shoulder, as if they were a longtime couple. Emily was curious about what had happened to Elijah No-Last-Name, but figured she’d learn the details later.

  “Please,” Mrs. Brewster said, gesturing to the table. “I would like both of you to join us.”

  Immediately an extra chair and place setting were delivered to the table, and not a minute later everyone was seated.

  “This place is really something,” Heather said with awe. “You wouldn’t believe some of the roadside dumps I ate at while I was in Florida. Thanks so much for including us.”

  “It’s good to see you again,” Emily said, smiling at Ben.

  The college student grinned, and answered Heather’s unspoken question. “Your mother and Ray bought a Christmas tree from me a few days ago.”

  “Oh.”

  “When did you two…” Emily began, but wasn’t sure how to phrase what she wanted to ask.

  “When I left last night, I was pretty upset,” Heather confessed, reaching for her water glass. She didn’t drink from it but held on to it tightly. “I don’t really know why I took off the way I did.” She turned to Ray’s mother. “I guess I didn’t expect to find my mother with a man, you know?”

  “Rayburn isn’t just a regular run-of-the-mill man,” Bernice said with more than a trace of indignation.

  “I know—well, at first I didn’t, but I’m over that now.” Heather drew in a deep breath. “When I left the condo, I wasn’t sure where to go or what to do, so I started walking and—”

  “I saw her,” Ben interrupted, “kind of wandering aimlessly down the street.”

  “You were still at the Christmas-tree lot?” Ray asked.

  Ben nodded. “For those last-minute shoppers. Technically I should’ve closed about an hour earlier, but I didn’t have anywhere to be, so I stuck around.”

  “It was a good thing, too,” Heather said, her eyes brimming with gratitude. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without Ben.”

  “I closed down the lot, and then Heather and I found somewhere to have coffee and we talked.”

  “Ben told me just what I needed to hear. He said I was being ridiculous and that my mother was entitled to her own life.”

  The waiter appeared then, and handed everyone elegant menus. Heather paused until he’d finished.

  “It’s just that I never thought my mother would ever be interested in a man other than my father,” she continued in a low voice as Bernice perused the wine list. “I was…shocked, you know?”

  Beneath the table, Ray took Emily’s hand and they entwined their fingers. “You are interested in Ray, aren’t you?” Heather asked her mother.

  The entire room seemed to go silent, as though everyone was waiting for Emily’s reply. “Well…”

  Mrs. Brewster leaned closer. So did Ray.

  “I—I guess you could s-say I’m interested,” she stammered. Now that the words were out, she suddenly felt more confident. “As a matter of fact, yes, I am. Definitely. Yes.”

  Mrs. Brewster released a long sigh. “Is it too early to discuss the wedding?”

  “Yes.” Ray and Emily spoke simultaneously and then both smothered their laughter.

  “We’ve just met,” Ray reminded everyone. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, okay?”

  “But you are smitten, aren’t you?” Ray’s mother asked with such eagerness that Emily couldn’t disappoint her.

  “Very much,” she said, smiling at the old-fashioned word.

  “And Rayburn?”

  “I’m smitten, too.”

  “Good.” Mrs. Brewster turned to Heather next. “I think a pale green and the lightest of pinks for the wedding colors, don’t you agree?”

  Heather nodded. “Perfect.”

  “May or June?”

  Heather sneaked a look at her mother and winked. “June.”

  Ray brought his head closer to Emily’s and spoke behind the menu. “They’re deciding our future. Do you object?”

  Emily grinned, and a warm, happy feeling flowed through her. “Not especially. What about you?”

  Ray grinned back. “I’ve always been fond of June.”

  “Me, too.”

  “My mother will drive us both crazy,” he warned.

  “I like her,” Emily whispered. “I even like FiFi.”

  Ray studied Bernice and then sighed. “Mother is a sweetheart—despite everything.”

  The waiter approached the table. “Merry Christmas,” he said formally, standing straight and tall, as if it was his distinct pleasure to serve them on this very special day of the year.

  “May I offer you a drink to start off with?”

  “Champagne!” Bernice called out. “Champagne all round.”

  “Champagne,” the others echoed.

  “We have a lot to celebrate,” Bernice pronounced. “Christmas, a homecoming—and a wedding.”

  EPILOGUE

  “This is so festive, isn’t it?” Faith had seen pictures of Rockefeller Center
, but that didn’t compare to actually standing here, watching the skaters in their bright winter clothes. Some were performing elaborate twirls and leaps; others clung timidly to the sides. They all seemed to be having a good time.

  “I knew you’d love it,” Emily said.

  “What I’d love to do is skate.” Not that she would in what Charles referred to as her “delicate” condition. She rubbed her stomach with one hand, gently reassuring her unborn child that she wouldn’t do anything so foolish when she was six months pregnant. In the other hand she held several shopping bags from Saks.

  The two friends continued down the avenue, weaving in and out of the crowd. Emily, too, carried packages and bags.

  “I still can’t imagine you living in New York City and actually loving it, especially after all those years in Leavenworth,” Faith said. She was happy for Emily and Ray, but she’d been astonished when Emily had announced last spring that she was moving across the country.

  “What I discovered is that New York is just a collection of small communities. There’s Brooklyn and SoHo and the Village and Little Italy and Harlem and more.”

  “What about teaching? Is that any different?”

  Emily shook her head. “Children are children, and the kindergartners here are just like the ones in Leavenworth. Okay, so they might be a bit more sophisticated, but in many ways five-year-olds are the same everywhere.”

  “What’s new with Ray?”

  Emily’s lips turned up in a soft smile. “He works too hard. He brings his work home with him and spends far too many hours at the office, but according to everyone I’ve met, he’s better now than ever.”

  “Better?”

  Her friend blushed. “Happier.”

  “That,” said Faith, “is what regular sex will do for you.”

  “Faith.” Emily nudged her and laughed.

  “It certainly worked with Charles.”

  “If you’re going to talk about your love life, I don’t want to hear it.”

  Faith enjoyed watching Emily blush. She’d never seen her this radiant. Life had certainly taken an interesting turn for them both, she reflected. Just a year earlier, they’d been lonely and depressed, facing the holidays alone. A mere twelve months later, each was married—and, to pile happiness on top of happiness, they were practically sisters now. Faith’s baby was due in March, and Charles was about as excited as a man could get at the prospect of becoming a father.