Twice Upon a Christmas

by Shanna Swendson

  “Really? What do you play?”

  “Trumpet. I’m first chair.”

  “Do you play any jazz?”

  “You don’t play jazz. You breathe it.”

  Unable to hold back a smile, I asked, “Then do you breathe jazz?”

  Grinning, he said, “Yeah.”

  “I may know some people you should meet. So, anyway, I guess being able to live here lets you stay in school, and in band.”

  “Yeah. If I had to pay my own rent in this city, that wouldn’t happen.”

  “What do you think you’ll be doing for Christmas?”

  “I dunno. There’ll probably be some dinner or something here, right, Dan?”

  Without looking up from his paperwork, Dan said, “I’m working on it.”

  “Would you want to spend Christmas with a family?” I asked Dwayne.

  He glanced at Dan, looking worried.

  “It’s okay. You can be honest,” I assured him. “Tell me how you really feel. That will help me.”

  He shrugged. “It might be weird, you know? We may not have much here, but we’re like family. Being in some stranger’s house would be like foster care all over again. Going to a new house was always a rough time.”

  Dan gave me an “I told you so” look. I was just annoyed enough that I didn’t want to back down or give up. “Okay, if you didn’t have to worry about Tilly, what would you do?” I asked, the challenge evident in my voice.

  Much to my surprise, he answered instead of giving me more “it won’t work” negativity. “I’d like to do a Christmas dinner—like a traditional family Christmas for our very nontraditional family.”

  “Sitting around a table with a roast goose, plum pudding and ‘God bless us, every one’?” I asked.

  He actually cracked a real smile at that, but I thought it had a wistful sense to it. When he spoke, he sounded sincere, even earnest. “Yeah, something like that. I’m not so sure about the plum pudding, though.”

  “I’d rather have pie or cake,” Dwayne remarked as he bent to pick up his bag and trumpet case. “Is that all you need me for?”

  “Yes, thank you,” I said. “You’ve been very helpful.”

  “Yeah, thanks,” Dan added. “Now go do your homework.”

  When Dwayne had gone, I asked Dan, “What would you need to make a Christmas dinner like that happen?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t even know where to start. A place, I guess. We don’t have room here. I’d like to have all the kids in the program, not just the ones who live in this center. That’s about fifty right now. We’d need food. I don’t have the budget for a Christmas dinner. It would be nice if there were decorations. I’d like each kid to get a present, even if it’s something useful like clothes.”

  I frantically scribbled notes, trying to keep up with the sudden flow of words. “Okay, then, change of plans,” I said when I’d finished writing. “I’ll talk to Tilly. Maybe I can convince her that this is a better idea.”

  “She’s not entirely off-base about involving families. I’d love to get each kid in with a mentor-type arrangement, family or otherwise, someone who can help ease the transition to adulthood. I just don’t want to throw these kids in with strangers on a day like Christmas.”

  “Yeah, I can see where that might be awkward for everyone. I should have realized that when we talked yesterday.”

  “It’s not the sort of thing most people think about. You know, maybe we should team up on Tilly. I don’t know if either one of us could convince her alone.”

  “Good idea. I’ll write a plan for this Christmas dinner and a news release to see about drumming up donations. Maybe as a compromise we could have a meet-and-greet event to let prospective mentors come and meet the kids in a more casual setting and learn about the program, like an open house?”

  He nodded. “She might buy that.”

  I snapped my notebook shut and stood. “Sounds like a plan. Do you want to try to set up a meeting with Tilly?”

  He rose, as well. “I’ll take care of it and let you know.” For once, his smile seemed warm and genuine, like he’d finally decided not to resent me. He escorted me to the front door and held out his hand for a handshake. “Thank you for listening to Dwayne.”

  “Believe it or not, not all PR people are human steamrollers.”

  As if to contradict me, Hadley nearly ran me down before I could get to my desk when I returned from the meeting. She didn’t even notice the near-collision, she was so caught up in the conversation she was having on her cell phone. “What do you mean you don’t need coats?” she snapped. “Everyone needs coats this time of year. In case you hadn’t noticed, it’s cold! Well, fine, we’ll find someone else to give stuff to.” She stomped off, still ranting.

  When the way was clear, I stepped back into the aisle and made it back to my cube, where I left my coat on the back of my desk chair. I headed to Reg’s office and tapped lightly on the door frame. “Have you got a moment?” I asked when he looked up.

  “Sure, what is it?”

  I entered his office and perched tentatively on the edge of one of the guest chairs in front of his desk, working up the courage to tell him about the change of plans. “It’s about that pro bono project. I’ve talked to the program director and one of the kids, and we’ve come up with an alternative to Tilly’s plan. We’ll present it to her, and I think she’ll like it once she hears it, but I wanted to give you the heads-up.”

  “It’s pro bono, so do what you think you have to do. I was just hoping to give you the chance to get a feel for running with a project. As long as you don’t make Tilly’s husband mad, we’re fine. And don’t spend too much time on it. We’re not making any money here.”

  A little taken aback by his dismissive attitude, I stood. “Um, okay. I was just keeping you in the loop.”

  Back at my desk, I caught up on e-mail, then saw that it was five. I quickly gathered my things and scurried out of the office before anyone could notice my departure. As I passed Janet in the lobby, she was swapping her killer heels for sneakers. “Did the stain come out for you?” she asked when she saw me.

  “I haven’t had a chance to do laundry yet.”

  “Soak it in the sink, at least. That’ll improve your odds.”

  An elevator door opened and Hadley hurried out. That was rare enough to make me do a double take. “Wow, you’re leaving at five?” I said.

  “I’m still working!” she replied, somewhat defensively. “There’s a cocktail party at the Carlton mansion and I have to get ready.” She rushed past us to the front doors.

  “Must be nice,” Janet said, raising an eyebrow. “So, do you have equally big plans tonight?”

  I glanced around, making sure no one was nearby to overhear, then said softly, “Can you keep a secret?”

  “Of course.”

  “I kind of have a second job. I’m in a singing group. We have a party or event just about every night at this time of year.”

  “Wow, that’s pretty cool. Sing something for me.”

  “Oh, I don’t know . . .”

  “Come on, I want to hear you.”

  I didn’t suffer from stage fright, but I suddenly felt self-conscious. After glancing around again to make sure I didn’t have an audience other than Janet, I sang a few bars of “O Holy Night.”

  “Okay, I’m impressed,” Janet said. “What are you doing working at this place?”

  “Paying the bills until I hit the big time.”

  She grinned. “Don’t forget me when you’re famous.”

  That night’s gig was a fancy party at a swanky restaurant. We were singing vocal jazz, which meant we had a break from the crazy costumes and just got to wear evening attire. This was what we really excelled at and what we wanted to do, although the various Christmas-related gimmicks did keep us in bookings. At work, I felt like I was wearing a “Professional Woman” Halloween costume, but when I was singing, I felt totally at home in the slinky dress.

  During
our break, I noticed Alicia grinning at me. “What?” I asked.

  “I noticed the way you looked up there. Do you get that feeling from your day job?”

  “I’ll have you know that in my day job, I’ll be making sure a bunch of former foster kids get a real Christmas dinner.”

  “Really? Okay, I guess that’s kind of cool.”

  I didn’t want to admit that it wasn’t the sort of thing that happened every day. And it still didn’t feel like singing did.

  Unless I’d had an absolutely terrible day, it always took me some time to settle down after a gig, no matter how exhausted I was, which meant I was even more tired when I woke up. The next morning, I rolled over in bed, sure that it couldn’t be time to get up yet. I checked my phone and saw that it was Wednesday. That was supposedly the day I’d just been through.

  “What’s going on here?” I muttered.

  Four

  It really did feel like the same day as yesterday—or what I’d thought was yesterday. I had the same e-mails in my in-box, aside from everything to do with the Ferris Center and Carlton’s. Everyone was wearing the same clothes. It was like a really vivid case of déjà vu, with a twist.

  One of the twists was Jason coming to lean against the wall of my cube. He favored me with his dazzling smile, and I was glad I was sitting down so my knees didn’t go weak. “Do you have a cocktail dress?” he asked.

  “Long or short?” I asked without thinking. “And how slinky?”

  He blinked in surprise. I supposed my office persona didn’t seem like someone who’d dress up like that, let alone have multiple options. Little did he know . . . “I don’t know,” he said. “We’ve been invited to a cocktail party at the Carlton mansion tonight to meet the old man himself.”

  Fighting back a rising panic, I said, “Tonight?”

  “At seven,” he confirmed.

  “Oh. I, um, well, I kind of already have something going on.”

  He suddenly looked a lot less charming. “This isn’t optional. I’ll see you there. Now, I need you to find a beneficiary for the charity drive at the store by end of day.” He started to walk away, paused, turned back, and gave me an appraising glance. With an appreciative smile, he said, “Slinky, but not too slutty.”

  I was too frozen to respond until he was gone. I shook myself out of the daze, then moaned. “They’re going to kill me,” I muttered to myself. I picked up my phone and steeled myself before making the call. I hit Alicia’s name in the contact list, and when she answered, I said, “Hi, it’s me. I’ve kind of got a bit of a problem.”

  “You’ve got a lot of problems. Which one is the issue now?”

  “Work.”

  “PR work or music work?”

  “Both of them. That would be the problem.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I can’t make it tonight. There’s a work thing that I’ve been told isn’t optional.”

  “They’re cracking the whip, huh? But, you know, a paying gig also isn’t optional. It’s work.”

  “You don’t really need me. I’m just the second soprano. Nobody even notices whether I’m there or not unless I have a solo, and Beth can do all my solos. And maybe if I get away on time I can make it for the last set.”

  “Are you sure you want to tell the group they won’t notice if you’re not there?”

  I gulped. I hadn’t thought of it that way. “Well, obviously it won’t be exactly the same, but what would you do if I got sick and lost my voice? You’d have to go on without me. It’s just this one night, and it’s important for the account.”

  She sighed audibly enough for me to hear it over the phone. “I’ll see if I can spin it that way. What are they making you do?”

  I felt a little sheepish about telling her, since it wasn’t exactly a long shift in the salt mines. “A cocktail party at the Carlton mansion. We have to meet the family patriarch and convince him that we can save his business.”

  “Oh, well, a cocktail party,” she said, her voice thick with sarcasm. “In that case, do, go, be important.”

  Defensively, I said, “It’s not like I want to do it. I don’t have a choice.”

  “You chose to speak up and get yourself put on an account that will have you busy during our busy season, when you’re already committed to the gigs we’ve booked,” she snapped. She ended the call before I could respond. I put my phone down with a sigh and rubbed my temples in an attempt to ease my sudden headache before I had to start making calls to find a beneficiary for the Carlton’s charity effort.

  By the end of the day, I was sagging in my desk chair, and I was afraid of what my hair must look like after I’d run my hands through it so many times in frustration. “Oh, so you don’t need additional coats this year?” I said into the phone as I crossed another name off my list. “Do you have any ideas of who might need coats?” After a negative response, I hung up the phone with a weary sigh. It was nearly five, so I picked up my bag to get ready to leave so I could change for the party.

  On my way out, I ran into Hadley, who was returning from a meeting, looking none too happy. She gave me a death glare. “You dodged a bullet not getting stuck with this pro bono project. The guy’s a real jerk and not at all cooperative. Doesn’t he realize what a huge favor we’re doing him?”

  If I had her assignment from my dream, then that must mean she had mine, so I realized she was probably talking about Dan. That gave me a thought. “I have an idea that’ll help both of us. What if Carlton’s does a drive for the Ferris Center? The kids would probably love getting expensive clothes and shoes, and then we could promote it jointly.”

  Hadley looked at me like I was insane. “The project is to get homes for the kids to go to for Christmas. They don’t need stuff.”

  I started to protest, then remembered that the change of plans had happened in my dream. “Well, if they decide they need stuff, we could make them the beneficiary of the drive. Think about it.”

  I walked past her, and she called after me, “You’re on the Carlton’s account, and you’re still leaving at five?”

  I tossed over my shoulder, “Cocktail party tonight at the Carlton mansion. I have to get ready.”

  The party at the Carlton mansion was like something out of The Great Gatsby. The place was filled with antiques and draped in lighted garlands, and it was so packed with guests that people could hardly move. I stood in the entrance, wearing the slinky dress I’d been planning to wear for that night’s gig, looking for a familiar face. Jason saw me and approached. “I’d say that’s just the right amount of slink,” he said with an appreciative grin. “Very nice.”

  “I was going to ask if it’s too much, but in this crowd, I’m not sure there’s such a thing,” I said, looking around at all the silk and diamonds on the other guests. My secondhand formal was relatively shabby, even though I’d bought it at an upscale consignment store.

  He offered his arm to me, and I took it. He led me across the room, steering us expertly through the crowd. “Let’s get this meeting out of the way so we can enjoy ourselves,” he said. “How often do you get invited to a party like this?”

  Under my breath, I muttered, “Every weekend in December.”

  “What?”

  “I said, it’s something I’ve dreamed of.”

  We found Michelle Carlton chatting with a group of people that included a distinguished-looking older gentleman. Michelle noticed Jason and moved forward to greet him with a kiss on the cheek. “I’m so glad you could make it on such short notice. Have you found a drink yet?” She signaled to a circulating waiter with a tray of champagne glasses. “Daddy is so looking forward to meeting you.” The waiter reached us, and she said, “Champagne?”

  Jason very pointedly turned to me. “What’ll you have, Natalie?”

  “Champagne sounds good to me,” I said.

  Michelle had to release her death grip on Jason’s arm for him to take a glass and hand it to me, then take one for himself. He held his glass so that it would
be difficult for Michelle to grab him again without preventing him from drinking. Once she realized that, she put her arm around his back so she could guide him over to her father. “Daddy, here are the PR people I was telling you about. This is Jason Baker.”

  He shifted his glass to his other hand so he could shake hands with Gerald Carlton. “Pleased to meet you, sir. It’s an honor to have the opportunity to work on your account. And may I present my colleague, Natalie Miller.”

  I held out my hand for a handshake, but Carlton took it as though he was about to give it a chivalrous kiss. He paused, regarding me. “You look very familiar, young lady. Have I met you?”

  I had a brief surge of fear. Had he seen me perform? As active as he was on the society social circuit, the odds were pretty good that I’d sung at a party he’d attended. I gave a strained little laugh. “I doubt it. You’ve probably seen someone like me. Women in cocktail dresses all look pretty much alike.”

  He kissed my hand. “Hardly. Thank you for coming to my little gathering.”

  “Thank you for inviting us.”

  “They’re putting together a charity drive to help publicize the store,” Michelle said. “Did you make any progress on that?”

  “Most of the organizations I’ve spoken to already have drives lined up with other sponsors, and some of them weren’t entirely keen on getting luxury goods when they need more practical items, but I’m still working on it. I have an idea for an organization to approach tomorrow.”

  Jason hurried to add, “We’ll have it ironed out by close of business tomorrow.” I doubted he saw the look of dismay I shot him. We couldn’t promise that.

  Carlton didn’t seem to notice it, either. “Excellent. Michelle, keep me posted. Those numbers need to start ticking upward.” To Jason and me, he added, “Thank you again for coming. Enjoy yourselves.”