3
“Harry, what time are you leaving for work?” My mother poked her head around my bedroom door. “Do you have time for a cup of coffee? I make gingerbread, and I need someone to eat it with me so I don’t feel guilty.”
I grinned. My mother was a talented baker, but she always swore that eating her own goodies was going to make her fat. Since I was the only one of her offspring still living at home, I was the one who lucked into cookies, cakes and pies when she was in the mood to create.
“Sure, I think I can do that.” I scooped up my backpack and followed my mother down the steps. Gingerbread with lemon sauce and whipped cream sounded like a good way to start my afternoon.
But then I rounded the corner into the kitchen, and suddenly my good mood vanished.
Seated around the table were my nemeses, the three women who had, along with my parents, been responsible for making me the man I was today—or so they always said. Diana, Hanna and Camille, my three older sisters, were lying in wait for me.
“What the bunny is this?” I came to a screeching halt. “Mom, did you just let me walk into an ambush?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, sweetie.” My mother smiled beatifically and began pouring coffee. “Isn’t this a nice surprise? Your sisters stopped by to visit today!”
My father passed by, heading for the front door. He cast me a glance of sympathy. “Good luck, Harry.”
“Are you leaving?” I grabbed his arm. “Are you abandoning me?”
“Sorry. I came home for lunch, but I got called back for an unexpected appointment.” His shrug was much too innocent to be believed.
“Coward,” I muttered.
“Sit down.” Hanna patted the chair next to her. “I want to hear all about this column you’re writing.”
“And the girl,” Diana put in. “What’s her name? Grace?”
“Faith,” Mom corrected. “She works at the bookstore.”
“Maybe I need to make a quick trip over there to meet her.” Camille frowned. “How old is she, anyway?”
“Twenty-one. She’s in college. And don’t you dare.” I accepted the gingerbread from my mother, glowering at her. “That was a dirty trick, using dessert to bribe me down here.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She set down a mug of coffee next to my plate. “Aren’t you excited to see your sisters?”
“Are you sure this column is a good idea?” persisted Diana. “What if it doesn’t work out?”
“Then it’s no big deal. I’m getting paid for covering Vivian’s space while she’s on maternity leave. If nothing else comes of it, then at least I’ve made a little extra money. But there’s a chance I could get an agent or even get picked up by a publisher.”
“How’s Sophia?” Camille leaned forward. “I haven’t seen her for months.”
“She’s fine. She just got hired for a new photography gig, and she’s excited about it.” I wondered if I could divert their focus to my friends. “And Preston might have a potential girlfriend, too.”
“Oh, Preston.” Hanna sighed happily. “How is that boy? He’s such a good influence on you.”
“He’s good. He’s close to securing a sponsorship for climbing, and once that comes through, he’s hoping to start traveling on the competition circuit.” I licked my fork.
“I wonder how he’ll make out with that,” mused my mother. “Preston is fine around all of us, because he’s been part of our family for so long, but the poor boy can be kind of shy, you know.”
“He’ll be fine. When he’s with climbers, he’s not that shy.” I added a dab of whipped cream to my plate. “And if he’s attracted to a yee, he figures out how to chat her up.”
“Yee.” Diana scowled. “I can’t believe you refer to women that way. Mom, don’t you find it disrespectful?”
My mother laughed. “Nah. Harry knows better than to use demeaning phrases about women. It’s no more upsetting to me than when you girls call men hotties or hunks.”
I closed my eyes and swallowed a sigh. “Why are you all here, anyway?” While my sisters lived at varying distances—from fifteen minutes down the road to an hour south—it was rare that they all gathered at the same time if it wasn’t a holiday.
“We’re here to do the Christmas cookie baking with Mom, doofus.” Camille batted her hand at my arm. “Didn’t you see us talking about it on the group text?”
The dreaded group text—I tried to avoid it as much as possible. “Guess I must have missed it.” I scooped up my last bite of gingerbread and shoveled it down. “Isn’t it too early for Christmas baking? It’s not even Halloween yet.”
“We freeze the cookies,” Diana reminded me. “And the brandy and rum cakes need to soak for two months, so we have to make them early.”
“You can stay and help out,” suggested Hanna. “And tell us all about Faith.”
“Wow, look at the time.” I craned my neck, pretending to see the clock on the microwave. “I’ve got to go to work now.” I slid back my chair and stood up. “See you all later. Um, what time will you be leaving?”
“We’re staying for dinner,” Camille told me. “Mom’s making a roast. What time will you be done work?”
“Harry has plans after work tonight.” My mother met my eyes. “We won’t hold dinner for him.”
I mouthed a silent thank you to her. “It was great seeing everyone. See you on Thanksgiving?”
They all stood up, of course, and I had to make the round of hugs, kisses on my cheek, pats on my back . . . after twenty-three years of being the youngest child and only boy in our family, I was used to this routine. My sisters still saw me as the surprise baby boy who they’d all had a hand in raising, which meant that they were pleasantly surprised whenever I did anything remotely adult, like hold down a job or graduate from college. Still, they all harbored doubts about my ability to exist without their constant supervision and input.
Nothing like a big sister—or three—to put life into perspective.
I fled to the mall as fast as I could.
Fall in central Florida is a season that doesn’t exist. September, October, and even November roll around, and it’s impossible to tell the difference between those months and say, July and August. We’re all still in shorts and flip flops. And then bam! One day, usually in mid-to-late November, we wake up, and it’s cold enough for jeans and sneakers. That’s basically winter for us.
The only way we can tell the seasons are changing is the decorations at the malls. I have a theory that because we don’t have other signs like falling leaves and snowflakes, we tend to go all out when it comes to holiday decorations. Everyone is in a frenzy of Yuletide cheer, desperate to believe that the heat outside doesn’t matter. We overcompensate.
I’d been working at this mall for four years, so by now, I was used to the tinsel and the evergreen boughs going up super early. All signs of Halloween were wiped away by late October, replaced by bells and lots of ho-ho-hos. Right now, two days before Halloween, was prime time for retailers to put up Christmas decorations.
So, as I walked toward the mall entrance, I didn’t even pay attention to the bucket trucks parked alongside the building, lifting men up high to string oversized garland and bright lights. I was too busy thinking about my date with Faith that night.
I was going to pick her up at her house, and then we were going to dinner at the Hula Hut, a quirky little hole in the wall in Casselberry. Afterward, I planned to suggest a leisurely walk around Crane’s Roost, a path that led around a large lake and had tons of romantic potential. They already had the Christmas lights up there, and they’d have carols playing softly in the background.
It was going to be perfection.
And speaking of perfection, as I trudged across the hot parking lot, there she was, just ahead of me, locking her car and heading toward the mall. Fate was smiling on me.
“Faith!” I called out, jogging a little to catch up. “Hey.”
Her face
brightened. “Harry! Are you working this afternoon?”
“Yeah. We’re short a manager, since the other one is on maternity leave, so I have to cover any gaps.” I lifted one shoulder. “I don’t mind too much. How about you? You have a shift today, too?”
She giggled. “Well, yeah, I asked to work this afternoon, since I have plans tonight.” She nudged me with her elbow, like there was an inside joke only the two of us would get. And then she gazed up at me through her eyelashes, and ugh, she caught her lower lip between her teeth.
I wished I could tell her that when she did that, she didn’t look like the girl from that vampire movie; she looked more like one of the witch sisters from Hocus Pocus.
“Uh, great.” I looked away. “I planned to pick you up about six. Does that work?”
“Sure.” We’d reached the doors, and Faith craned her neck to look at the trucks. “What are they doing there? Fixing lights?”
“Actually, they’re putting up the Christmas decorations.” I held open the door, allowing her to go inside ahead of me. “You know, ‘tis the season.”
“Christmas decorations?” She wrinkled her nose. “Really?”
“Sure. It’s a mall, and this is our most lucrative time of the year.” I shrugged, and then I cocked my ear, pointing upwards. “Hear that? The Christmas songs have begun, too. They’ll be our soundtrack for the next two months. You’ll go home singing Jingle Bells and I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus.”
“No. Way.” Faith’s eyes were wide. “I thought things would be different down here. I thought since it was, like, a tropical climate, I’d be getting away from this crap.” She clapped her hands over her ears. “I can’t deal with this.”
“What’s wrong?” I stared at her. “You don’t like Christmas music?”
“I don’t like Christmas.” She shuddered, and even in the middle of my dismay, I thought she was being more than a little melodramatic about the whole thing. “I hate it. Call me a Grinch, call me Scrooge, but I think it’s absolutely ridiculous. I’m not at all religious, and I can’t stand the way people get all gooey and sentimental about a stupid time of year. The music is schmaltzy, the decorations are cheap, and people get crazy.”
Standing there just inside the mall, outside the stuffed animal store, all of my carefully constructed plans began tumbling to the ground.
“I’ve never met anyone who hated Christmas.” I blurted out the words, mostly because it was all I could think to say. “You’re not just punking me, are you? Is this a joke?”
“It is not at all a joke. I am deadly serious.” She shook her head. “Please don’t tell me you’re into all of this nonsense.”
It was a moment of decision. I had the opportunity to play along, to pretend that the holiday season didn’t mean anything to me, or at least, that I wasn’t attached enough to it to prevent me from dating her. But I couldn’t bring myself to do that. It would be a lie, and eventually, as silly as it sounded, this would be a problem.
“Yeah,” I said slowly. “Yeah, I’m totally into all of this, uh, nonsense. I love Christmas. I love all the holidays. I have Christmas socks. I play my Christmas music in August, sometimes. I watch the movies, and I’ll be putting up a tree in a few weeks. I think it really is the most wonderful time of the year.”
“Arrghhhh.” Faith dropped her head back, her eyes squeezed shut. “I can’t believe this. All of the time I put into you—and this is what I get.”
“Time? What’re you talking about?” I frowned. “We’ve known each other for a little over a week. And we haven’t had our first real date yet.”
She gazed at me pityingly. “You didn’t think all of this happened by accident, did you? I saw you in the bookstore my very first shift there. I found out who you were and where you worked. I went down that day just to meet you.” Shaking her head, she gave a short, humorless laugh. “These things don’t just magically occur, Harry. Any girl who says otherwise is lying to you. Trust me.”
But suddenly, trusting this girl was the last thing I wanted to do.
“I think you’re wrong.” I tried to keep my voice even, to hide how much her words affected me. “I think you’re wrong about everything. Christmas is a magical time. It does matter. And not all romance is—manufactured. Not all women are like you.” I glared down at her. “I don’t like being manipulated. I wouldn’t do it to you.”
“Sure, you wouldn’t.” Faith rolled her eyes. “You might call it something else, but you would. I’d be willing to bet you have done it in the past, with other girls. Just because I beat you to the punch this time is no reason to get all pissy.”
“Maybe not. But you know what?” I stepped backward. “Let’s save both of us some time and aggravation. I don’t want to take you out tonight. I’m sure you wouldn’t have a good time with what I’ve planned, and I’d disappoint you. Let’s just—” I threw up my hands. “Let’s just walk away and say no harm, no foul. This was a mistake.” I began to move away, suddenly anxious to be away from Faith.
“No harm for me, you can bet!” She yelled after me. “I can find a guy who’s twice as hot as you, asshole!”
Ignoring her, I kept walking until the swell of Christmas bells drowned out her words. It felt somehow fitting.
“Do you want a refill?” Sophia stood over me, regarding me with a mixture of humor and pity. “That coffee has got to be cold by now. You’ve been working here for over two hours.”
“Yeah, I know.” I raised my arms over my head, stretching. “I’m trying to get this column ready to send in. Trying to tell the Faith story without giving away too many incriminating details isn’t easy.”
“Ah. That’s the one you’re working on?” Sophia smirked. “Can’t wait to read it.”
“Why would you bother? You and Preston already got all the ugly details.” I dropped my head onto the table. “You had to listen to me crying over my Halloween beer.”
“You weren’t crying. You were just bitching.” Sophia picked up my coffee mug and replaced it with another one—filled. “You had a lucky escape, my boy. Imagine if you had started dating her and then found out later what a lying, scheming wench she was. At least you didn’t have much time or energy invested in her.”
“That’s true.” I stared at my laptop screen. “Actually, you’ve given me a good idea for how to wrap up this column. Shake off the dust and start again, right?”
Sophia sighed. “Sure, Harry. Start again. Or maybe—” She stopped and gave her head a little shake. “Whatever. You know best.”
“Yeah. Thanks for the coffee.” I settled down to finish my work, pulling out headphones to drown out the noise of the shop and limit my distractions.
I could have pretended that I agreed with Potential #1. It wouldn’t have been that difficult to go on the date and find out if we had enough in common that we might be able to overcome our Christmas differences. But in the end, investing more time and energy in someone who can’t appreciate the wonder of the season just wasn’t a good idea.
Plus, is there anyone out there who appreciates feeling played?
And so . . . onward, my friends. I’ve decided to nix any more mall love connections, because it makes my work environment kind of awkward when they go wrong. (Ask me why I’m now boycotting the food court.) I’m looking for more opportunities to meet women, so send me your ideas.
With a long exhale, I ran the column through my editing software and then attached it to an email and sent it to Laurie, Vivian’s editor. One more week in the books.
Taking off the headphones, I reached for my coffee and drained the mug. Sophia was such a good, supportive friend. She hadn’t really even harassed me about what had gone down with Faith. She hadn’t said I told you so even once. I was lucky to have Preston and Sophia in my life, and I’d do well to remember that. Yees might come and go, but my buds were forever.
With that sentiment swelling my heart, I meandered up to the counter to return my mug. The shop was fairly busy, but there were extra p
eople working today, too, which meant Sophia wasn’t too slammed. I spotted her standing next to a table, talking with a woman, both of their heads bent over a computer tablet.
“Hey, Soph. I don’t mean to interrupt, but I’m leaving my mug at the counter.” I lifted the empty cup. “Thanks again for my refill.”
“Sure. Here, I’ll take that.” Sophia reached for the cup. “Do you need anything else?”
“Uh . . . no, I guess not.” I lounged against a stool. “Or if I do, I can wait until you’re finished.”
The woman sitting across from Sophia turned her head, her gaze sweeping over me from top to toes.
“I’m in the middle of something right now. With a client. Can I talk to you later?” Sophia drilled me with an I’m-working-so-go-away-and-leave-me-alone glare.
“Uh, yeah.” Curiosity made me pause. It almost felt as though Sophia didn’t want me to know what she was doing. “Or I can just wait over at my table.”
“Oh, why doesn’t your friend join us, Sophia?” The woman nudged an empty chair out from beneath the table. “Maybe another set of eyes would be a good idea.”
Sophia didn’t look happy, but she shrugged her acquiescence.
As I sat down, her client offered me a hand.
“Hi, there.” Her voice was low and rich, and she had the most vivid green eyes I’d ever seen. They were offset by her deep chestnut hair, which fell in long waves down her back. “I’m Tyla.”
“Hi, Tyla.” I clasped her hand in mine. “I’m Harry. A friend of Sophia’s. Good to meet you.”
Sophia looked like she was clenching her jaw, but she finally managed to say something. “Harry, Tyla’s the client I was telling you about—the one I met at the wedding I shot. We worked on her pictures last weekend, and I was just showing her what I’d gotten.”
“Cool. Can I see?” I reached out to adjust the tablet so that I could take a look, but Sophia quickly stopped me.
“No, sorry. I’d prefer you didn’t.”
Tyla grinned first at Sophia and then at me. “Oh, I don’t mind, Sophia. I’m sure . . . Harry, here, isn’t into corporate espionage.”
The Cuffing Season (The Anti-Cinderella Chronicles) Page 4
