Tinsel: A Shifter of Consequence Holiday Tale (Shifters of Consequence Book 8)

by Mazzy J March

  “Yes…but I can’t say. I’m afraid if I do it won’t come true.” She pretended to zip her lip. “Let’s talk about something else.”

  Yeah…because otherwise she might ask what my guys were doing for me and, while they were the best mates I could ask for, I had a feeling I wasn’t going to see a lot of holiday spirit. Unless I made it happen. “Good idea. Now, do we want a color scheme, or should we go wild?”

  “You know me,” she crowed, pulling a breakfast bar from her purse. “If the guys ask, this is what I ate on the road.” She rolled down the window and, after opening the wrapper, tossed the bar into the trees along the roadside. “Tastes like cardboard, but it’s organic and full of nuts and seeds and stuff, so the squirrels should be happy. That doughnut place should be coming up soon, right?”

  “I do know you,” I said, slowing for the drive-through. “And besides your fetish for baked and fried goodies lately, you like things very colorful.” Her layette for the baby was the wildest thing I’d ever seen, but gorgeous, all handmade.

  “Don’t you think it will go along with your idea for all the happiness? The joy? I mean, magazine photos of coordinated everything are fine, but in real life? Who wants a whole room done in silver or red?”

  I shrugged. “Let’s see what we find. So, what are we getting?”

  “One of everything in every color. You got the pack credit card, right?”

  I did indeed.

  Five minutes later, we were back on the road. Wendi’s bad habits were becoming mine, and my jeans were digging into my belly. After today, no more doughnuts or cookies or… Well…maybe just one here or there.

  We arrived at the town where the Christmas store was located about fifteen minutes later. When we’d been there a while back to shop at the Baby Bottoms, we’d discovered the year-round holiday shop, but we hadn’t gone inside. Two steps in, and my jaw dropped. “This place is bananas!”

  Two shop assistants were busy at the registers, checking people out, and the line was all the way to the back of the store. “Wendi, I don’t think this is a good thing for you to be on your feet that long. Maybe come back another day?”

  She frowned. “I don’t know. Christmas is getting awfully close. Let me see if it’s just a busy time, or worst case, maybe we can shop online…although I’m a little worried about getting everything fast enough.” She had a point. We were not near any of the big cities and “Prime” delivery did not mean two days. But while I waited, Wendi exercised her pregnant lady status and “excuse me’d” herself to the front of the line. She spoke to the redhead in the Santa Loves My Cookies sweatshirt. What did that mean anyway? It sounded vaguely naughty, but by the time I’d stopped trying to puzzle it out, she’d returned to me, grinning.

  “What’s up? Should we come back tomorrow?”

  “Even better. They are members of the same pack as Sandy at Baby Bottoms and, when I mentioned the ‘first lady’ is here with an entire alpha house and clearing and more to decorate and the pack card in hand, they offered to clear the store.”

  “What?” My status didn’t usually matter except where I saw responsibilities. “You didn’t tell her to do that.”

  “Nope. But she also said this is the very busiest time, and if we’d like to go have lunch or something and come back in an hour, the owner will come and be your personal shopper.”

  “You don’t want lunch. You’re full, right?”

  Wendi led me outside and paused on the sidewalk. “I do, but how about we grab a pretzel from the stand on the corner and then go to Baby Bottoms and see if there’s anything I still need to buy?”

  “A pretzel? Is that nutritionally good? Because you already threw the bar out the window and you’ve had nothing but sugar and fat.”

  Wendi frowned. “I’ll get one with cheese! Come on.”

  It was very lucky the Christmas store offered to deliver because three large bags from Baby Bottoms filled my back seat before we started on the decorations.

  Chapter Four

  I had been a little concerned about the long day for my bestie, Wendi. She was spending more and more time off her feet and we’d stood outside gobbling our pretzels—I held her 100 percent responsible for my general puffiness—and then walked around the baby store while she bought all the things occupying my back seat. Well…Auntie Christie might have paid for some of them because I was making my case for favorite babysitter when the time came. But either way, it was a lot for her, and I decided we’d cut the decoration shopping short, just pick out a few things and then start home. I’d claim exhaustion or maybe suddenly remember a big paper due in class tomorrow I hadn’t even started.

  But when we approached the Christmas store, we were faced with a sign: Closed for Special Event. Better. “I guess we’ll have to go home. They must have forgotten they had something set up for this afternoon,” I told Wendi. “We can come another day.”

  “I guess so.” She let out a deep sigh. “I know you need to get this done, but I am the littlest bit tired. My back kind of hurts.”

  She must be exhausted to admit this. I linked my arm with hers, offering support in case she needed it, and, together, we turned away toward the car. But before we took a step, a jingle of bells announced the opening of the door behind us.

  “Ladies? Where are you going? Did you change your mind about the shopping expedition?” It was the Cookies clerk, I saw when we faced the store again. “Our owner will be so disappointed.”

  “But you have a special event,” I protested. “We don’t want to be in the way.”

  Cookies was such a smiler! She beamed at us, and I tried not to think I saw dollar signs in her eyes. “The special event is you and your friend. Please come in. I am sure we have lots of things you’ll like for your decorating needs.”

  “You didn’t clear the store,” I said. “Wendi, didn’t you tell them not to?”

  “Of course, she did.” Cookies—I really should ask her name. Didn’t they wear tags in most stores?—ushered us into the store and down the wide center aisle toward the back. Considering how much merchandise they had in a not-to-large store, I was amazed at the breadth of the aisles. “But Mr. Noel insisted. We don’t get VIPs in here very often, and he wants to be able to help you bring to life your theme for your celebrations this year. Come right this way.”

  She paused beside two chairs that, had they been a bit larger, I might have called the thrones Santa, and sometimes Mrs. Claus, often occupy at the malls. Red velvet trimmed with white stitching sitting on a platform a few inches off the floor. “Sit down,” she said. “I will let Mr. Noel know you’re ready for him. Can I bring you a hot cocoa or coffee…tea? We have quite a big selection, just like everything else around here.”

  I asked for a cinnamon-apple tea, and Wendi requested a cocoa. Cookies bustled off and a moment later returned holding a tray with three cups and a plate piled with colorfully decorated cookies. She set everything but one cup on a low table between our chairs and the other on a similar table off to the side. She promised once again her boss would be right there, and left.

  Wendi picked up her mug and a sugar cookie in the shape of an intricately frosted and trimmed train. “I should have recognized your celebrity sooner.” She used to cookie to scoop up some softly whipped cream. “This is the way to shop.”

  Still stunned, I wrapped my hands around the cup of tea and brought it to my nose to inhale the fragrant steam. “I am not a celebrity. Or a VIP. This is silly.”

  “Silly or not, your theme is about to be brought to fruition. What theme is that again?” She bit into the cookie and licked a bit of cream from her upper lip.

  OMG. Mr. Noel was going to ask me the same thing. “You know I don’t have a theme. We just talked about this. Bright colors. That’s all I got.”

  “Bright colors! Excellent!” The voice came from nowhere I could see, and I craned my neck, hunting for the source. Where…?

  Wendi elbowed me. “There.”

  I followed her gaz
e to see the owner of the Christmas shop rolling up in a low-backed, narrow wheeled electric chair. “Let’s broaden your vision. I am sure we have everything you could possibly need.”

  Wendi hopped down from her seat and approached the slender youngish man who leaned causally to the side in his seat. “Where did you get that chair? It’s amazing. I bet it can fit almost anywhere.”

  “I had it custom made in order to be able to navigate my store after the accident.” He rolled forward and back a little before stopping next to the table holding another cup of tea. “Why? Do you know someone who needs one?”

  “No.” She gave a rueful head shake. “But I was in a chair for many years, and there were so many places I couldn’t go. Or where I was hopelessly awkward, always knocking into something. I noticed your layout right away and had the thought someone who had to get around as I did could really get in here and enjoy themselves. What a great place!”

  His smile lit up his narrow face. “And that is my vision. Before I was hurt, I had little recognition for what people in wheelchairs or some who use walkers and other forms of assistance went through. After I had my chair made, I realized not everyone else would be able to do what I’d had the ability to make happen. So we rearranged the store to give others the opportunity.”

  “Wow.” Wendi glowed. “Just wow.”

  She’d gone all fangirl on this storekeeper, but I couldn’t blame her. I remembered when we were first friends and how many times we’d had to make our plans based on whether the store could accommodate her. Like Mr. Noel, I’d learned things, but, unlike him, I’d not had to learn them the hard way.

  With a brisk nod, Mr. Noel clapped his hands together. “All right. So, bright colors. The standard Christmas ones are of course red, green, and white, but if you add in some silver and gold and a hint of others, I think you can make your winter holidays merry and bright.”

  Mr. Noel not only managed to convince me I’d had a “vision” for my holiday decorating, he indeed brought it to life. If Samson and Tris were less than enthusiastic about the upcoming season now, I hoped to be far, far away when they opened the credit card bill.

  Chapter Five

  Turned out, I didn’t have to wait for the credit card bill to arrive. The company called Samson after my third purchase, and he had to give his consent for them to go through, assuring them that the card wasn’t stolen though I’d used it in a day more than it usually was used in a month.

  He texted me as I got into my car, saying we needed to talk.

  Shit. I hadn’t even gotten the decorations home, and already I was up an overspending shit creek without a paddle.

  Perfect.

  But was there really such a thing as overspending when it came to those you loved and Christmas?

  No. The answer was no.

  “I can explain,” I said, coming into the house with no bags in my hands. I thought maybe I would leave them in the car for this conversation. Though what I had was merely the tip of the iceberg. The smells of meat and something like Doritos tickled my nose. I was so glad the days of my mates not getting along was over.

  “No, it’s okay. There’s no need,” Samson surprised me by saying. Tris and Samson were sitting at the counter in the kitchen. There were sub sandwich wrappers and empty chip bags in front of them, and Samson was sipping a soda.

  I put my hands on my hips. “But I rushed back here because—”

  “That’s my fault. Come sit, mate.”

  Samson patted the stool between them and slid over a sandwich. While I wasn’t hungry after all the holiday shopping carbs, my body needed better sustenance than pretzels and cookies.

  “Talk,” I prompted and rolled the sandwich open, the scent of cold cuts and cheese already hitting my senses and making me drool.

  “Before you…look, Tris and I aren’t very much on Christmas. There’s exactly one box of decorations in the attic, and I think the last time someone shopped for new ones, well, there was a cold war in our country.”

  How had I missed that box in the attic? I would have to look for it.

  I blew out a breath, my appetite gone before the first bite. “What do you mean you’re not big on Christmas? It’s the happiest holiday of them all. How can you see all the snow and trees and decorations and not…? Never mind. What do you want me to do? As the alpha female, I think a big Christmas is expected.”

  “We know and we admire your dedication and so will the pack. But, it’s just never been a big thing to us. We don’t really celebrate Christmas other than the night with the pack. We don’t get gifts, and Santa Claus never dared come down the Alpha’s tree when we were kids. We support you if you want to do this and will help any way we can, mate…” Tris trailed off.

  “Wait, what?” I screamed. Samson pursed his lips, and Tris covered his ears. “What in the hell do you mean you never had a Christmas? No Santa? No Christmas dinner? No presents? What in the actual hell?”

  Building inside me was an anger but, moreover, a sadness. Yes, an alpha had responsibilities, and their father had been more rigid and strict with them. But no Christmas? No joy? No tinsel or candy canes…?

  That was it. I would show my mates a Christmas celebration that would make up for all their lost ones.

  “Our father said it was a waste of time and energy and pack resources.”

  Okay, I had proved him right with the pack resources thing, but it would be worth it.

  “Wait, no stockings or gingerbread cookies or bells on your slippers? Nothing?”

  They both shook their heads, and, honestly, seemed nonchalant about it. Nope, not on my watch.

  “Celebrating and being grateful with your family is never a waste of time or energy. I’m going to show you how much joy this holiday can be.”

  “So far, it’s expensive joy,” Samson murmured. He knew I hated when he grumbled at me under his breath.

  “Can you give me the chance to show you how worth it this will all be? I want to show the men I love how this holiday should really be celebrated. You wouldn’t deny me that, would you?” I put my hand on Samson’s thigh, hitting him below the belt and not caring. When I was done with our home for the holiday, he would have candy canes and gumdrop dreams forever.

  So would Tris.

  And when I told Wendi Brandon never had a Christmas, my quest would spill over into their home as well. Mark my words.

  “Fine. Do what you will. We will help you, right, Tris?”

  Tris nodded and took my other hand in his. “We have no fucking clue how, but sure. Let’s Christmas the shit out of this place.”

  A new fervor bloomed in my chest. I had to make this Christmas amazing, if for no other reason than because our children one day would have Christmas and my men needed to be on board.

  “Well, you can start with helping me unload the car.”

  I clapped my hands and got to work. I stood in the middle of the living room, and while my mates unpacked the car, I planned and schemed and dreamed up how this Christmas would be absolute perfection.

  I would accept nothing less.

  Chapter Six

  “Ow!” I screeched and stuck my finger into my mouth.

  Wendi rolled her eyes and continued her taping. We were hidden away in her mother-in-law’s/guest apartment, wrapping presents. There was a closet in the back of the bedroom she claimed the boys never went in, and that was where we’d intended to hide all of our goodies.

  “Did you get another paper cut? Just let me wrap the presents. You’re really no good at it anyway.” Pregnant Wendi was some kind of truthful. So truthful it stung, more than this papercut.

  “What? I am fantastic at this.” Okay, even I didn’t believe that lie for one second. Wendi’s finesse about this present-wrapping gig outdid Martha Stewart’s. She took simple ribbons and turned them into art before hot gluing little sprigs of silver-coated pine and pinecones underneath them. She had a technique for folding the corners of the packages and ran her fingernails along every edge to
make sure they were crisp.

  She claimed she and her aunt used to wrap presents for charities. That was before, when she was still mostly confined to her chair.

  “Just hand me the tape and the scissors when I need them. I’ve got this.”

  She said nothing against or for my claim of being fantastic, but as she wrapped Samson’s maroon cashmere sweater, folding it perfectly to fit inside a box that didn’t give the contents away, I knew there was nothing I could do to compete.

  I had intended to throw the sweater into a festive bag and considered my glittery tissue paper a plus.

  Clearly, I was outdone here.

  “Scissors,” she demanded, making me feel like a sous chef.

  “Good, now I get to enjoy my hot chocolate and watch you work.” After handing her the scissors, I leaned back in my chair and sipped on the salted-caramel-truffle hot chocolate. A boutique in town sold the mix and, once we’d tried it, Brandon had to go back and get Wendi an entire case.

  “So, tell me what Samson said. Out with it.” She cocked her head to the side to get a better angle of the paper and how to fold it to make it perfect. I tried to watch and learn, but it would take years of practice to mimic her technique.

  “He wasn’t pissed. In fact, he and Tris were kind of…obtuse about the whole thing. It actually put me off.”

  She shoved a mint-chocolate-chip cookie into her mouth and wiped the crumbs from her fingers before getting back to the wrapping. She’d picked a bronze shimmery paper for Samson’s gifts and, according to her, Tris’ gifts would be in silver so they didn’t get mixed up.

  The woman had a hate/hate relationship with gift tags of all sorts. She claimed people should be able to tell their presents from the matching paper. Plus, she said the stick-on tags I got with Santa Claus and the to/from blanks to fill in by hand were tacky.

  Like I said, prego Wendi was very opinionated.