The Probability of Mistletoe

by E. J. Russell

  “No. He was intimidated by the electronics. Said he was more an iron and steel guy. But he was fascinated by what I did anyway.” Keith met Parker’s gaze across their half-empty plates. “Just like you were. That’s the reason—well, one of the reasons, anyway—why I came back.”

  Parker sat paralyzed, his spoon halfway to his mouth. How had he forgotten the way Keith’s eyes could mesmerize him? He wanted to fling himself across the table and promise anything and everything, if only Keith would stay.

  Hold your freaking horses, Mulvaney. No impulsiveness, remember? He cleared his throat, then took the suspended bite, the oats like glue in his mouth. He forced himself to swallow and take a fortifying gulp of tea. “I declare a moratorium on discussing anything to do with the proposal until I’ve had a chance to read it. Instead tell me about your life in San Jose. Do you have a lot of friends? A… a boyfriend?”

  Keith’s smile turned a tad sly. Not fooling him, am I? “I’ve got friends, sure. No boyfriend. No ties, really. I can move right away if you—”

  “Uh-uh. Remember the moratorium.”

  “Okay. Well what about you? You say you’re not with Todd—”

  “Don’t make me hurt you.”

  “You have someone else in your life?”

  “Other than a father, three sisters, a couple of brothers-in-law, two nieces, and more aunts, uncles, and cousins than I care to count? Nope. Nobody.”

  Parker didn’t miss the satisfaction that chased across Keith’s face. Good. We’re both on the same page. “Now if you’re done, what do you say we get on with the real work of the day and hit the stores along with the other hysterical last-minute shoppers?”

  AFTER THEY paid, Keith held the door for Parker. “I can’t believe you’re making me go to the mall. On Christmas Eve. Jesus, Parker, if you hate me that much, you could have just ripped my fingernails out.”

  “Oh, stop whining. You’re a natural at this. You’ve always given the best presents.”

  “Me? You’re the one who kills at gift-giving.” Their junior year, Parker’s Christmas gift to Keith was a CD of the entire Nutcracker Suite—as whistled by Parker and produced by his DJ father. Every time Keith listened to it, he imagined what Parker’s lips must have looked like, plush and puckered. He was probably the only guy on the planet who had to take a cold shower every time he heard “Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy.” “Can you at least give me an idea of the scope here? Who are you—”

  “You mean ‘we.’” Parker’s smirk was entirely too alluring.

  “Fine. Who are we shopping for?” A shiver of alarm skated down Keith’s spine as the car doors unlocked themselves. “Not… not your whole family? You wouldn’t have waited this long for something that order of magnitude?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I started in October so I could spread the cash outlay over several months. I’ve only got two left on the list—my nieces, Rae and Whitney.”

  Keith settled himself behind the wheel as Parker climbed in. “They’re Jen’s kids, right? How old are they now?”

  “Thirteen and fifteen.”

  Keith blinked. “Wow.”

  “I know, right? Kids are like a yardstick for the passage of time.”

  “I gotta tell you, though, I know the square root of nothing about teenage girls.”

  Parker leaned against the door, his body angled toward Keith. “What if I tell you that Rae’s won her science fair prize two years running, and that the clutter in Whitney’s room is an even split between makeup and robotics components?”

  Keith laughed. “Seriously?”

  “Cross my heart. They’ve guilted Jen into taking them to GeekGirlCon every year since Rae was ten, and they’re making serious noises about the San Diego Comic-Con.”

  An idea bloomed in Keith’s brain. Even if it didn’t win Parker’s favor, any kid who loved science deserved to be cherished. With American culture containing so many self-confidence landmines for tech-curious girls especially, Keith couldn’t pass up the chance to do his bit.

  “Are they gamers?”

  Parker snorted. “You have to ask? Jen uses game deprivation as a disciplinary technique since they actually enjoy being grounded. Gives them more time to level up.” He fastened his seat belt. “But if you’re going to suggest that I buy them a game, they probably already own it or have rejected it as beneath them.”

  “Nah. Packaged commercial games won’t win you any favorite uncle points.” Keith started the car and switched on the turn signal before piloting the car into the street. Jesus, he needed a tugboat for this thing. “But here’s the deal. GWF is tough.”

  “‘GWF’?”

  “Gaming while female. If I remember Jen correctly, I’m betting she won’t let them join some of the more offensively aggressive online communities. But trolls are everywhere.”

  “Ain’t that the truth,” Parker murmured.

  “Some friends of mine from Stanford are trying to change the culture. They’re developing a sci-fi MMORPG, that’s got in-game AIs to police sexist behavior. If you want, I’ll get the girls into the beta group. Not only will they be able to play it before anyone else, they can offer feedback and shape the game. Think they’d be into that?”

  “Are you kidding?” Parker’s grin was nuclear. “They’d kill for it. I’ll be Star Uncle for the entire year.”

  Keith nodded. “Excellent. Because several of the developers are women, and they really want to connect with other female gamers. They’ll worship me forever for sending them a couple of embryonic girl geeks.”

  “Yes!” Parker punched the air. “Do you know what this means? I thought I’d have to spend hours fighting the holiday crowds, searching for the right gift. But thanks to you, I’m done, and it’s not even lunchtime. I’ll be able to go over to Dad’s and help my sisters set up for tonight’s party.”

  “Ah.” Keith’s heart sank. He should have held off on the suggestion. It would have given him a little more time with Parker. “You want me to drop you off at your place?” Maybe Parker would invite him in.

  “Nope. I left my car at Dad’s this morning and walked to Maggie’s, so you can just swing by there.”

  “Right. I’ll… uh… check with my friends and text you the game codes.” Keith herded the car into the right lane and turned onto Cedar, racking his alleged brain for something to say to break the silence. He hadn’t achieved lift-off brilliance by the time he pulled to a stop in front of the Mulvaneys’ big Victorian. “So… you’ll call me after you have a chance to look at the proposal?”

  Parker punched him lightly in the biceps. “Screw that, buckaroo. This is a conversation we need to have face-to-face. Come to the party tonight, and I’ll give you my answer then. Seven o’clock. Don’t be late.”

  “B-b-but that’s a family thing.”

  Parker froze with his hand on the door handle, his gaze dropping to his feet. “Once upon a time, Keith, you were family.” Was that sadness or disappointment in his tone? “Thanks for the gift idea.” He climbed out, and the door latched gently behind him—automatically, because of course it would.

  Keith sat in the big, stupid car, its engine purring like a contented cat, as Parker trudged up the sidewalk, past the same light-studded rattan reindeer that had been a Mulvaney holiday tradition forever, and slipped inside the front door.

  He didn’t look back.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  AFTER KEITH’S parting remark, which hinted that he didn’t consider Parker-as-family a part of his plan, Parker refused to read Keith’s proposal all afternoon. His sisters, even consumed by their usual preparty hysteria, zeroed in on his mood in typical Mulvaney fashion.

  “What’s got your knickers in a knot?” Jen poked him in the back with her elbow on the way to the dining room, her arms full of holiday tablecloths and napkins.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Parker positioned his step stool in the exact center of the living room doorway and climbed up to hang a mistletoe bough.

>   Rae wandered over and snagged a candy cane from the bowl on the sideboard. “Jeez, Uncle Parker. How much kissing are you planning on? You’ve got mistletoe in every single doorway, plus all the ceiling fans.”

  Heat rushed up Parker’s neck, and he nearly lost his balance. “It’s… um… just decoration. Festive. ’Tis the season. Ho ho ho and all that.”

  “Okay.” Rae peered up at him. “That makes sense, I guess. So why are you blushing?”

  As if Rae’s question were a homing beacon, all three of his sisters were suddenly right there, clustered around the stool, staring up at him.

  “Yeah, Parker,” Corinne said. “Why are you blushing?”

  “I’m not. It’s just hot up here. Heat rises, you know.”

  “Heat doesn’t rise, Uncle Parker,” Rae said around her candy cane. “Warm air rises. Everybody knows that. Besides, it’s freezing in here because Grandpop always turns down the furnace on party days so it doesn’t get stuffy with all the people later.”

  “Well, I’m not freezing. Mandy, move. I can’t get down with you standing there.”

  “Oh, sorry. Am I in the way?” Mandy grinned, not sounding the least sorry—and not moving. “Maybe if you told us who on the guest list has got you papering the house with those revolting parasitic plants, I’d be inspired to step aside.”

  “Did you ever think it might be for your benefit? Your boyfriend will be here, after all.”

  Mandy waved a dismissive hand, but at least she moved so Parker could climb down. “If Jason and I want to kiss, we kiss. We don’t need vegetal assistance. Besides, he’ll be too busy getting browbeaten by Dad. Tonight’s his official debut as a DJ, and you know how ruthless Dad is with his apprentices.”

  “Dad’s not the only one who’s ruthless,” Parker muttered as he picked up the step stool. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to take a shower now.” He headed for the stairs.

  Corinne grinned as he passed her. “Planning to hang mistletoe in there too?”

  “Very funny.” Parker marched upstairs to his old room to his sisters’ off-key rendition of “I Saw Parker Kissing Santa Claus.”

  As soon as he closed—and locked—the door, his gaze zoomed to the proposal on the dresser. I’ve put it off long enough. He retrieved it and sat down on the edge of his bed, turning the envelope over and over in his hands.

  Back in high school, Parker was a joiner—student government, the drama club, the jazz band, plus volunteering for every event ever—so he had scads of people he hung out with. Keith had his computers—and Parker. If Parker had let that kiss happen, Keith would have followed Parker anywhere, and for one thing, Parker wasn’t sure he was ready to be that responsible for someone else’s happiness. For another, Keith would have limited himself.

  But that was ten years ago. Time had passed and things had changed. But fundamentally, had Keith changed? Had Parker? Even if they had, did it matter, as long as they both liked the people they’d become?

  Parker glanced at his desk, at the Christmas cards containing the game codes for Rae and Whitney that Keith had texted within twenty minutes of dropping Parker off. Keith had colleagues—friends—who shared part of that missing ten years with him, years Parker could never reclaim.

  Yeah, Parker was largely responsible for that estrangement, even if he’d done it with the best intentions. He had a chance to build a different future now. Surely he wasn’t so stupid as to screw it up again.

  He took a deep breath and tore open the envelope, drawing out a fat packet of paper. He smoothed it out over his knees. As he read through it, his excitement grew until his knees were bouncing so much he had to pick up the document so he could focus on it.

  “RetroActive CodeWorks,” he murmured, testing the name. It described the business perfectly: a company that promised to take outdated but still functional applications and modernize them without losing what made them successful. “Appropriate technology.” How can I resist?

  But holy cripes, Keith wasn’t kidding that he wasn’t offering to buy Parker. Keith might be gifting Parker with the controlling interest in the company—one with an impressive amount of seed money already—but this would be work, hard work, on both their parts.

  Keith had done his research. The business plan was solid. He had a list—a really long list—of prospective clients at various points in the sales continuum, but no deals were closed yet. That would be Parker’s job—the people side.

  A real partnership. But to accept the offer, to devote the time necessary to build the business, Parker would have to quit his job at the PR agency. Could he really take that kind of risk? Sure, he didn’t have any debt to speak of, so his expenses weren’t huge, but he’d worked hard to get where he was. Did he love his job? No. But he was good at it.

  On the other hand, Keith was taking risks too. He was staking his entire savings on this venture, counting on his own skills—and on Parker’s too—to make this a success. He was moving back to Portland, even though he had no family here anymore, because this was where Parker was based.

  And by asking Parker to join him, he was declaring in a very Keith-like way that he wanted Parker in his life for good. Because one thing Parker knew about Keith—once he committed to something, to someone, he didn’t quit.

  Unless some idiot pushes him away.

  As if to remind him what he’d be giving up, a muffled “Ride of the Valkyries” sounded from the cell phone in his pocket. Hmmm. Give up a boss who’d never learned the meaning of “work-life balance” and clients who treated Parker as a cross between a nanny and an indentured servant? No-brainer.

  Maybe it was time for Parker to take a good hard look at where he wanted to go in the next ten years—and whether he was ready to let Keith slip away again. The notion of some other guy partnering with Keith—both personally and professionally—made Parker’s stomach roll up and whimper.

  Keith said he’d made the effort to look more professional for Parker’s sake. But was that for the sake of business, or the sake of friendship? Or the sake of romance? You know that’s what you want. Twenty-two mistletoe boughs can’t lie. You might as well admit it.

  Maybe it was time to admit it to Keith too.

  Before the evening was over, if he couldn’t manage to lure Keith under at least one of those twenty-two strategically located clusters? Well, then I freaking deserve Todd Bolton.

  WHY DID the notion of attending the annual Mulvaney family Christmas Eve party strike terror into Keith’s bones? It’s not as if he’d never been to one before. He even went to the one after that dreadful winter formal because not going would have made things even more awkward. But it wasn’t a pleasant evening, with both him and Parker pretending nothing had changed, when in fact everything had changed.

  One thing was certain, though—he couldn’t go empty-handed. His hotel room had a not-very-well-equipped kitchenette, although the oven worked perfectly well. So after he dropped Parker off, he stopped at Fred Meyer and bought everything he needed—including the pan to cook them in and a platter to serve them on—to make his traditional offering of pumpkin bars with cream cheese frosting.

  At least baking mostly kept his mind off the fact Parker might be reading his proposal right this fricking instant. Tonight could be the end of his dreams, both for starting his own company and luring Parker back into his life.

  Try for some positivity, Trainor. Maybe it’ll be the beginning.

  Yeah. Right. Given Parker’s reaction to Keith’s gift, signs were not looking so great for that.

  Laden with a foil-covered platter, he knocked on the Mulvaneys’ door only ten minutes late—the pumpkin bars took longer to cool than he remembered. He recognized the lopsided wreath on the door—Parker had made it out of egg cartons in third grade. They laughed about it every year when Keith helped decorate their house for the holidays. Nice to see that some things never change.

  Parker’s youngest sister, Mandy, opened the door. Of the three Mulvaney sisters, she was the one who loo
ked most like Parker, blue-eyed and golden-haired. That, and because she was closest to them in age and was around more in their high school days, always predisposed Keith to like her.

  Her eyes widened, her mouth forming an O. “Keith Trainor? Oh my God, so that’s why—sorry, sorry. Come in.” She grinned and kissed his cheek as he passed. “It’s been way too long.”

  He returned the kiss, awkwardly as usual. “Good to see you, Mandy. I brought… um….” He held up the foil-covered platter, its rattle audible over the Trail Band’s instrumental carols spilling from the speakers in the entryway. Parker’s father had the most extensive music collection and the most elaborate sound system Keith had ever seen, with speakers in every room, all controlled by the same master board he used for his DJ gigs.

  “Are those your pumpkin bars?” She snatched the platter out of his hands and lifted one corner of the foil, closing her eyes as she inhaled. “Mmmmm. I love these, you have no idea. I used to beg Parker to invite you to all our parties because you never failed to bring them.”

  Parker had to be begged to invite him back then? “Oh.”

  She must have heard the defeat in his tone because her eyes flew open. “Not that I had to beg him, don’t get me wrong. You were always first on his list. Even after you moved away.” She linked her arm with his and pulled him down the hall. “I think he kept hoping you’d magically show up, although how he expected that to happen when he never invited you, I’ll never know. Honestly, boys.” She grinned again. “Or I guess I should say ‘men’ now, huh? Then again, I don’t know if you can ever take the boy out of the man.” She nudged him toward the wide arch leading to the living room. “Everybody’s in there. Go on in. I’ll put these on the sideboard and let Parker know you’re here.”

  “Thanks.” As she bustled away, he tugged at the neck of his sweater. The Macy’s clerk insisted on the red cashmere when Keith would have gone for a more subdued brown, declaring that Keith was a Winter (whatever that meant) and that jewel tones looked good on him. But now the bright color made him feel like one of the decorations. At least I’m not wearing green pants.