Lights, Latkes, and Love

by Peggy Bird

  The woman put out her hand. “I’m Lisa, and I’m so happy to meet you. My Hannah talks about you all the time. You and David are her two favorite people in the world right now.” She turned to her children. “Hannah, George, would you go get us two cups of juice and some cookies?” The children tore off to the food table.

  “I wanted a chance to say thank you in private. You have no idea how much it meant to my daughter when you told her you’d take care of Santa finding her. She was worried, more for her brother than for herself, I think, but she believed you when you reassured her. And David told me you designed and made all those clothes for Hannah’s doll. They’re beautiful. You’re very talented.”

  Hannah ducked her head, embarrassed at the compliments. “Thank you. I had a wonderful time making them.”

  The children returned, carefully carrying two paper cups of juice and a plateful of cookies. “We got one of each kind, Mommy, because we weren’t sure what you wanted,” Hannah said.

  George put the plate on the table. “Can I go back to building Hogwarts now?”

  “As long as you keep it all in the box. You don’t want to lose any of the pieces before we even leave the party.”

  Hannah was aware of David before she saw or heard him. She swore her hair stood on end, her breath caught, her heartbeat increased. It must have been the smell of his cologne or something that set her body off, but whatever it was, she knew without turning around that David Shay was standing behind her.

  “Sorry to interrupt, Lisa, but I’d like to talk to Hannah for a minute,” he said.

  Without turning around, she asked, “Is there a problem with something?”

  “Let’s talk privately.” He took Hannah by the elbow, leaving her no option unless she wanted to make a scene, and led her to an empty classroom. “What’s with the cold shoulder?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “You’ve been ignoring my texts and phone calls. You barely spoke to me when you got here. What did I do that pissed you off?”

  “I’ve been busy.” She made as if to leave, but he grabbed her arm.

  “Maybe we should—”

  Shaking off his hand, she said, “Maybe we should just let it go. You won’t have to deal with me after today.”

  “Won’t have to ... ? What the hell does that mean?”

  “Just what I said.” She made it to the door and looked out. “There’s Mr. Austin. I need to make sure things have been done to his satisfaction.” Not letting David detain her any longer, she escaped back into the crowd.

  “Mr. Austin!” Eager to get away from David, Hannah almost shouted to get her boss’s attention.

  He turned abruptly. “Hannah. There you are. I’ve been looking for you to tell you what a wonderful job you and your staff did with the party.”

  “I’m glad you’re happy.”

  “I know it added more to an already busy season for you, but I was confident you were up to it.”

  “You seemed concerned about that when we first talked.”

  “Concerned? About you? Never. There’s nothing I can throw at you that you can’t handle.” He grinned at her. “Which leads me to the second reason I wanted to talk to you. I’m about to do a major overhaul of all the stores, and I need a project manager working with me in corporate to oversee it.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “Interested in the job?”

  “Me? Working with you in corporate? Of course I’m interested. I’m honored you have that much confidence in me.”

  “I’ve always had confidence in you. You can do anything. You already do everything, as far as I can tell. Which brings me to the last thing I want to say. One of Santa’s helpers told me you’re quite a good clothing designer. And I was impressed by what you made for your secret Santa present. How would you like to meet with one of our clothing manufacturers to see if we can get him interested in producing your line for my stores?”

  Hannah didn’t answer right away. Couldn’t answer because she was afraid she’d burst into tears or dissolve into nervous giggles. Finally, after she took a deep breath, she said, “I’m overwhelmed.”

  “Thank David for that last idea. He was the one who urged me to look at your work.”

  “David? I thought—”

  “He’s quite a fan, you know.” Mr. Austin smiled. “I think in more than a professional way, but that’s for you to sort out between the two of you.”

  “Oh, I’m sure not. Like he told you over the phone, he’ll be happy to get on with his life now that he doesn’t have to worry about working with me on this party.”

  “I haven’t talked to David on the phone in weeks. We have lunch once a week and do all our business there.”

  “But I heard him.”

  “Whatever you heard, you misunderstood.” He looked over Hannah’s shoulder. “I just got the signal that I’m expected at the podium for my little speech. Let’s get together after the first of the year and work out your transition to corporate.” He gave Hannah a pat on the back. “And merry Christmas.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Austin. The same to you.”

  Hannah stood, dazed, while her boss wrapped the party up and her staff came by to wish her Merry Christmas. But when she saw David headed toward her, a determined look on his face, she bolted. She couldn’t face him. Not until she figured out how to bluster her way out of being rude to him about that conversation she’d overheard and still hadn’t figured out.

  Chapter 8

  “So, what you’re telling me is your party was a success, you got an offer of a huge promotion, and the guy you’ve fallen for got you a shot at having your clothing designs considered for production—geesh, are there any more wishes left in the magic lamp you found, and can I have them?” Sarah asked.

  “Sarah, you’re not listening to me. He wants me out of his hair. He has other plans for his life.” Hannah was pacing the floor in front of her housemate.

  “So, we’re focusing on the David Shay part of this story, not the job or the clothing line. Gotcha. Okay. What I hear is you trying to hold onto an idea you’ve got stuck in your head about a conversation you apparently misunderstood.”

  “But it was so clear when I heard it.”

  “Did you ask David about it?”

  “Of course not. It was too embarrassing.”

  “But not embarrassing to have your boss tell you David’s interested in you while you try to get him to say he dissed you.”

  Hannah stopped pacing and looked up at the ceiling. “Oh, crap. You’re right. I screwed up. Now I’ll have to get up the courage to face David and ask him to explain. Probably even apologize. But I have no idea what to say.”

  There was a knock at the door. Sarah looked through the security peephole and said, “Better figure it out quickly. He’s here.” She opened the door. “Hi, David. Come on in. I hear the party was a success.”

  David entered and stared across the room at Hannah. “It went well, yes.”

  No one said anything more for a few moments.

  “Well,” Sarah said, “I think I hear my television calling me. It’s upstairs, if anyone’s interested. Where I’ll be. With the door closed. And the TV on at high volume so I won’t be able to hear anything but the stupid program I’m watching. In case anyone cares. Which I doubt.” She left her roommate and their visitor standing on opposite sides of the room, silent and staring.

  Hannah finally spoke. “Shouldn’t you be cleaning up after the party? Or something?”

  “My staff said they’d take care of it. I told them we had a conversation to finish.”

  She groaned. “Oh, God, is there anyone who doesn’t know about this?”

  “I’m not sure I know about this. Whatever it is. But if you’ll tell me, maybe I can try and make it right.”

  She looked at the floor, her eyes shut, and muttered, “I heard what you said on the phone.”

  He came closer. “You’re whispering. Say again.”

  She raised her head and her voice. “I
heard what you said on the phone.”

  “What I said? When?”

  “Tuesday. Around lunchtime. When I brought some Christmas cookies to your office for you. I heard you say—”

  “You brought me Christmas cookies? I never got them.” He was close enough to put his hands on her shoulders, but she shook them off when he tried.

  “That’s not the point.”

  “Then tell me what the point is.”

  “I heard you say I was cute like a puppy dog, but I was high maintenance and you could hardly wait to get rid of me so you could get your life back.”

  “Puppy dog? You thought I called you a puppy dog?” He struggled to suppress a smile and failed. In fact, the smile progressed rapidly to a grin and then a laugh.

  “You think it’s funny I heard you call me that? Heard what you really think of me? I thought you were talking to Mr. Austin, but he denied it. I don’t know who you were talking to, but it hurt.”

  David fumbled in his jacket pocket and pulled out his phone. He touched the screen, then swiped it a couple times without saying anything.

  Hannah’s embarrassment was quickly being replaced with anger. “You’re not even denying it? You’re just laughing at me and playing with your phone?”

  He turned the phone around so she could see the screen.

  She glanced at the image—of a dog. “What’s that got to do with it?”

  “Everything. Remember how on Sunday I had to go meet my sister about a present for my niece? Well, here’s the present—a Jack Russell puppy. My sister picked her up from the breeder on Sunday, but needed someplace to stash her until the birthday party. The puppy has been my roommate since then. Jack Russells are notorious for needing a lot of attention, it turns out. You overheard me complaining to my sister that if I’d known that, I might have said no, even though she plays on my sympathy all the time.”

  “But you said you could hardly wait until Christmas was over. How can you love Christmas but want it over with?”

  “This year, it’s easy. In a wonderful ironic twist, my nice, observant Jewish sister produced her daughter on Christmas Day ten years ago.”

  “Oh.”

  “Oh is all you have to say?”

  “Well, maybe, I’m sorry.”

  “Maybe you’re sorry? Oh, sweetheart, you can do better than that.” By this time, he had Hannah in his arms and was kissing her forehead, cheeks, and nose between words. She didn’t resist.

  “Okay, I’m definitely sorry. I was sure what I heard was about me. And so disappointed because you said you wanted Christmas over with. Just when I’d—”

  “Just when you’d begun to think you could enjoy the season?” This time the kiss landed on her mouth, with all the tenderness and affection she could have wanted.

  Then he abruptly pulled his head back. “Wait. Let’s get back to the cookies. I didn’t know Scrooge could bake. And where are they?”

  “I gave them to a homeless woman and her son.”

  “You did a good deed in the spirit of the season even when you were pissed off! Wow. I’m better at this Christmas Carol stuff than I thought. But you owe me cookies.” He touched his thumb to her lower lip. “And an admission that you had a good time making doll clothes for Hannah ... ”

  She nibbled on his thumb. “And I owe you a thank-you for being the elf who told Mr. Austin about my clothing designs. He’s going to introduce me to one of our manufacturers to see if he’d be interested in producing my line for the stores.”

  “So, let me see—you got to relive some Christmas happiness from your childhood on Peacock Lane, you gave a little girl the best Christmas of her life, you baked Christmas cookies and cleaned up at dreidel, and Santa Austin is making your dreams come true. Does that mean ... ?”

  “It means I give up. I can’t fight anymore. I loved Christmas this year. I didn’t even mind the last-minute Christmas rush at the store. You’ve won the bet.”

  “Yeah, I know I have. I knew I’d win the first time I saw you with Hannah, too. But you realize I have no intention of waiting ’til New Year’s for the kiss I won, don’t you?”

  “I was hoping you’d collect tonight.”

  “I think I can make that wish come true, too.”

  More from This Author

  (From Unmasking Love by Peggy Bird)

  “Do you have a minute, Greer?”

  Greer Payne looked up from the boring deposition she was reviewing for a fellow deputy D.A. and smiled hopefully at Multnomah County District Attorney Jeff Wyatt, her boss. “I always have time for you, Jeff. Especially if you have something juicy for me to work on.”

  Her smile faded when he carefully closed the door without responding or smiling back. “The FBI report came back on the Dreier matter and I wanted to talk to you about it.”

  The few traces of hope that remained in her soul disappeared. “Have a seat. Can I get you coffee or something? Oh, wait, you’ve probably already had your coffee, haven’t you? Or have you?” She knew she was babbling but couldn’t seem to shut up.

  “I’m fine, thanks. Don’t bother. I won’t be here long.” He dropped a file folder on her desk. “I’ve excerpted the pieces of the report and the grand jury indictments I thought relevant for you to see. In a nutshell, the FBI and the grand jury concluded you didn’t do anything illegal and weren’t responsible for the leaks about the interagency task force. Dreier and the Russian mobsters he was working with got their information from another source.”

  “Can you tell me who the source was?”

  “I don’t think that’s relevant. Suffice it to say, they determined it wasn’t you.”

  What little pride Greer still had bubbled to the surface. “Of course it wasn’t me. I might have dated the guy, but I wasn’t stupid or careless enough to give him information about what was going on in this office.”

  “You weren’t stupid—aren’t stupid. But your judgment in continuing to be associated with someone everyone in the legal community knew skated close to the edge of the law …”

  She waved off the end of the sentence she had heard—and read—too many times in the past four months since her former lover had been arrested on charges of industrial espionage, kidnapping of a deputy D.A., and accessory to several murders. “I’ll regret that lapse in judgment to the end of my life, believe me.” She picked up the file folder he’d left on her desk. “Thank you for bringing this to me personally.”

  “Of course.” Jeff turned to leave, then stopped and faced her again. “One more thing. For the time being, and for I’m not sure how long, what happened is going to be, shall we say, career-limiting for you. I’ll be keeping you under wraps so some journalist doesn’t revive what happened a few months ago when you’re prosecuting a case and contaminate it with bad press. That means you’re going to be stuck in the office doing some pretty low-key tasks. Do you think you can handle that?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “Not if you want to continue working here, you don’t.”

  “Then that’s the answer, isn’t it?”

  He stared at her intently. “I don’t understand what you mean by that, exactly, but I’m sure you’ll let me know.” He left, quietly closing the door behind him.

  Greer sat stunned, not moving for what seemed like an hour but was probably only five minutes. In spite of her hopes, her exile to the Siberia of dull and unrewarding paperwork while she waited to have her name cleared wasn’t going to end any time soon. It apparently didn’t help that she was innocent. The downward slide of her reputation as one of the best legal minds in the D.A.’s office wasn’t going to be reversed any time soon. All that was left was to answer the question Jeff asked: could she handle being pushed to the sidelines professionally for an unknown period of time because of a bad decision in her personal life?

  And if she couldn’t, what were her other choices? Quit the D.A.’s office for a private practice in Portland? That wasn’t likely to work out. Her association with her discredited bo
yfriend would follow her. So … what, then? Leave Portland? That might not be a bad idea. Maybe she would be better off someplace where no one had ever heard of Paul Dreier, the Russian mob, or her taste in men. She had friends and family in California. Perhaps it was time to head south, back where she came from, to lick her wounds and regroup. Maybe, in fact, it was time for Greer Payne to simply disappear.

  Because she sure as hell wasn’t going to be happy sitting meekly in her office day after day watching everyone else get the good cases while she was assigned as pooper-scooper for the prize ponies in the parade.

  She rummaged through her messenger bag for the business card the real estate agent had left when she’d come to see if Greer was interested in selling her condo. She picked up the phone, punched in the number and, when the call was answered, said, “Hi, this is Greer Payne. About that offer on my condo …”

  • • •

  A month later, Greer was roaring south on I-5 at a speed that would guarantee her one hell of a ticket if she was pulled over. But she didn’t care. She was headed for California, and the faster she put this wretched state in her rearview mirror the happier she’d be. The landscape whizzed past her as, gradually, the green farms and forests of Oregon’s Willamette Valley and Siskiyou Mountains began to turn to the yellow-brown hills more like the Golden State’s scenery. She was almost there. She swore she could even smell California, it was that close. Excitement began to replace the tension and anger she’d been carrying around for months.

  But less than thirty miles from the border, she heard a peculiar noise. It wasn’t like any road noise she’d ever heard. It sounded more like it came from someplace inside the car. Panicked at first, she calmed down as it seemed to disappear when a new song started on her iPod. Relieved, she kept going. It had probably just been some odd instrumentation in the R & B she had blasting at decibel levels likely to make her deaf before the trip was over.

  However, ten miles later she heard the noise again as she pulled away from a pit stop near Ashland, where she’d gotten one last tank of gas someone else had to pump. It was definitely the car, not her music.