The Trouble With Christmas

by Robin Daniels

  “I’m not impressed by how the basket looks. I’m impressed that you made it at all. Even though I wasn’t there to help you. You know what that means?”

  I narrowed my eyes. “No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

  “It means that you, Chrissy Jensen, hater of all things Christmas and champion for Scrooges everywhere, participated in a holiday festivity of your own free will.”

  My mouth popped open and closed like a fish. “But—”

  Nate pinched my lips together. “Don’t try to deny it. You could have bailed; I wasn’t there to stop you. That means this magnificent”—he searched for the right word—“thing is proof that you did it because you wanted to.” My brow furrowed. I hated it when he was right. “Did you enjoy yourself at all?”

  My lips puckered in thought. “It would have been better if you were there, but I suppose making the craft was kind of fun.” Nate started to say I told you so, and I held up a finger. “But that has everything do with crafting and nothing to do with Christmas. I never said I hated crafting.” That was a very thin defense. Crafting was like two steps below Christmas on my list of dislikes.

  He gave me a flat look. “You don’t like crafting, either. Getting you to help me with my mom’s projects is like pulling teeth.”

  “That’s because it’s so tedious,” I whined, exposing myself as a liar yet again.

  Nate kept pushing. “Come on, Chrissy. Admit why you really finished the project.”

  “Because I wanted you to win.” I avoided saying the other reasons. He’d twist them into some sort of teaching moment. He loved to lecture me almost as much as he loved being right.

  Nate’s eyebrows rose to his hairline. “You thought that was going to help me win?” I stuck my tongue out at him and he lost it, laughing until he got teary-eyed.

  “Shut up!” I shoved him in the arm, though it wasn’t very hard. By now, I was laughing, too. The thought of my basket winning any awards for beauty was sadly hysterical.

  “Stop deflecting, and answer the question,” he demanded. I knew he’d keep pestering me until he got what he wanted.

  With a sigh of defeat, I gave in. “I did it because you’re my best friend. I wanted to do something nice for you, to make you happy. I wanted you to know how much I care about you and earn your forgiveness. Plus, I thought it might make my parents proud of me. And, all cards on the table here, I really wanted to give Sebastian a taste of his own medicine. Can you imagine the look on his face when he had to hand the crown over—to me.”

  “Yes, that would be particularly deflating on one’s ego.” Nate started laughing again.

  “Dude, be nice!”

  When he finally settled down, he took a deep breath and smiled. Tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, he said, “So what I’m hearing is that you finished the project because of family, kindness, joy, love, peace, hope, and if we bend your last reason pretty hard, maybe even a little bit of charity.”

  “It is charity! I’d be gifting him a lesson in humility. Out of the goodness of my heart.”

  “Well,” he drawled. “When you put it like that, you’re just full of Christmas spirit.”

  I chuckled. “I’m definitely full of something.”

  Nate threw his hands up. “Hey, you said it.” I glared at him and he wrapped his arms around me. His voice softened. “Everyone knows why we celebrate Christmas—”

  “Yes.” I cut him off. “Because it’s my birthday.” He pulled back to give me a stern expression. I fluttered my eyelashes, pretending to be innocent and sweet. He skipped the scolding.

  “But there’s more to it than that. It’s also about the feelings that come with the season. You expend so much effort hating the holiday on principle, that it makes you miserable. But for once you focused on something besides yourself, and it brought you joy. I know you won’t admit it, but you felt the spirit of Christmas this week.” He tapped me on the chest. “And you liked it.”

  I looked down at his finger, still pointing to my heart. “Yeah, well, I did everything for the wrong reason, so it doesn’t count.”

  Nate tipped my chin up and looked me in the eye. “We’ve all got to start somewhere. Baby steps, Chrissy, baby steps.” He kissed me on the forehead. “Now, enough of the gushy stuff. This is a party. It’s time to eat.”

  “Ah, food.” I groaned. “Finally.” He jumped up, almost dumping me on the floor and disappeared into the kitchen. When he returned, he was carrying a box. “Mazatti’s pizza?” I asked. “How did you…”

  He set the box on the table. “A little birdie told me this is what you wanted for your birthday dinner. Hence the reason we’re having your party today.” He grinned, then returned to the kitchen for a bottle of sparkling cider.

  After stuffing ourselves, Nate leaned back in his chair. “I know you’ve probably hit your emotional limit for the night, but there’s one more thing we need to discuss.”

  He sounded serious. I gulped. “And that would be?”

  “The status of our relationship.” He cleared his throat, then walked over to me and got down on one knee. My heart lurched. Was he going to propose? I wasn’t even an official adult yet. My parents married young, but this was taking things to the extreme. “Will you, Christmas Eve Jensen, agree to be both my best friend and my girlfriend?”

  I breathed out a giant sigh. “I will.”

  “Geez, don’t look so relieved.” He feigned offense. “Wait, did you think I was going to ask you to marry me?”

  Heat crept up my neck and into my cheeks. I’d known Nate forever. There weren’t a lot of things he could say that would embarrass me, but this was one of them. “Of course not!”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Chrissy.” He rolled his eyes and gave me a dismissive hand wave. “You can’t be engaged while you’re still in high school. The marriage proposal won’t come for at least another six months,” he deadpanned. My jaw dropped, but he just kept talking. “Now, are you ready for cake?”

  “Yes, please. Anything to get me out of this uncomfortable conversation.”

  Nate stood to get a knife, and the doorbell rang. “Will you grab that?” he asked.

  “Sure,” I replied.

  I answered the door. Garland and Evan were on the porch, holding my birthday gift. Nate came up next to me, still clutching the cake knife. Garland glanced down at the sharp blade, then up at Nate, over to Evan, and back at me.

  “Uh, do I need to run home for my referee shirt and whistle?” Garland asked, gesturing between Nate and Evan. “Or at least get Evan his own knife, so the fight is fair?”

  “Don’t be dumb.” I huffed. “We were getting ready to have birthday cake. You guys want some?”

  “Is it a chocolate tuxedo mousse cake?” Garland asked.

  “Isn’t that Chrissy’s favorite?” Nate retorted.

  Garland rubbed his hands together and pushed past us. “I’m in.”

  Evan looked at Nate and gave him the slightest head nod. Nate jerked his chin toward the dining room and opened the door a little wider. Evan shoved his hands in his pockets and slid past us. I whispered to Nate, “Looks like the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

  Nate snorted. “Don’t push it.”

  Back in the dining room, we found Garland swiping his finger through the frosting. He licked it clean, then went for a second scoop. “Don’t you dare!” I yelled. He did it anyway and popped the chocolate in his mouth.

  “The real reason we came was to deliver some news,” he announced after swallowing. “There’s good, bad, and really bad. Which do you want first?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” I replied. I assumed it was about the contest, and I didn’t care anymore.

  “Wickham didn’t win the judge’s award tonight. You should have seen him. He was all bent out of shape.”

  I grinned at the mental image of Sebastian having a breakdown. “I assume that’s the good news. So what’s the bad?” I asked.
>
  “You and Nate didn’t win, either. Barb Cushing did.”

  Nate frowned and took his disappointment out on the cake as he sliced into it. I shrugged. “It’s all good.” I turned to Nate. “Her basket was pretty sweet. I can get behind that decision.” I looked back at my brother. “If that’s the bad news, what’s the really bad news?”

  “You advanced to the final round. One of you clowns has to get up and walk the runway tomorrow in some froufrou outfit and talk about how much you love Christmas.”

  I felt the blood drain from my face. “Nate can do it,” I said anxiously.

  “No way.” He shook his head. “You’ve been taking the credit, so you have to see it through to the end.”

  “But you deserve the credit,” I argued. “People should recognize how talented you are. That won’t happen if you don’t get up on the stage.” Nate mulled over my words. I had him on the line; now I needed to set the hook and reel him in. “Think about it. You could be Nate Ellison, King of Christmas.”

  He got a glassy, far-off look in his eye. “It does have a nice ring to it.”

  “Plus, Sebastian would have to watch my dad crown you instead of him,” I added.

  Garland shoved half a piece of cake in his mouth and pushed it into his cheeks so he could talk. “Nope. It has to be Chrissy. She was the one on the sign-up sheet. Also, when they announced her name, Mom was so excited I thought she might faint.” Garland leveled me with a serious stare. And he was never serious. “You owe it to Mom for all the Christmases you’ve ruined with your whining. So woman-up tomorrow, and go be a beauty queen.”

  I hated to admit it, but my brother was right. This sucked. And I totally deserved it.

  I felt much healthier when I woke up the next morning. The congestion was mostly gone, and my throat was back to normal. I’d even gotten a good night’s sleep. Now I was sitting in front of a ham, cheese, and hash brown omelet, which Dad made specifically because he knew it was my favorite. Nate loved me and Evan didn’t hate me. Other than the pageant business, things couldn’t have been better.

  “Morning,” Mom chirped. She waltzed into the kitchen with a spring in her step. “Today’s the big day. Don’t you just love Christmas Eve?”

  Dad looked at Mom and grinned. “I certainly do.” He dropped his voice, as if sharing a juicy secret, and held his hand to his mouth. “Don’t tell anyone, but she’s my favorite daughter.”

  “Oh, Roger.” Mom chuckled at his joke like it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard.

  Dad walked his plate to the sink, and when he passed Mom, he leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. “You’re in a good mood, darling.”

  “It is my favorite day of the year.” She glanced at me, giving a not-so-subtle hint. “And this year it’s extra special.”

  “Thanks, Mom. No pressure or anything. You know I’m not going to win the pageant, right? You need to prepare yourself. I’ll probably come in dead last.”

  “No, you won’t. You’ll make top five, easy.” Dad filled his travel mug with freshly-brewed coffee and dumped about a pint of cream in it. Then he held the sugar jar over the top and let it flow freely. “Have you seen what you’re up against? Margaret Dotson can decorate a tree like nobody’s business.” He set the sugar on the counter, sealed the lid on the mug, and stuck a plastic bendy straw in the hole on top. “But who wants to see her in an evening gown?”

  “Roger!” Mom gasped.

  “Joy!” he replied dramatically. “I’m not being rude; she’s eighty-seven. I’m just keepin’ it real.”

  I chuckled. “Nobody says ‘keepin’ it real’ anymore.”

  He grabbed his wallet and keys and walked toward the garage door. “They should. That’s why I’m bringing it back.”

  “Good luck with that.” I snickered. I loved my dad, but he was a dork, through and through. That’s where Garland got it from.

  “Where are you going?” Mom asked.

  “Dear, it’s December 24, and I’m a man. Where do you think I’m going?”

  “Shopping,” I said sarcastically.

  His eyes grew wide, and he touched his finger to the tip of his nose. Then he blew us a kiss. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

  “Oh, that man,” Mom mumbled as she rinsed the dishes. I finished my last bite of eggs and brought her my plate. “I have something for you,” she said out of the blue.

  “Is it a jeep?” I waggled my eyebrows.

  “No, better. It’s a dress for tonight.”

  I scoffed playfully. “In what world is that better than a jeep?”

  She gave me a knowing smile. “Trust me.”

  I followed Mom to her room and laid on the bed while she rooted around in her closet. Worry built up with each passing second. I thought back to some of the nutjobs from pageants past, and visions of elf costumes and reindeer jumpsuits ran through my mind. I don’t care how bad she wanted me to win; I wouldn’t wear a gown made of wrapping paper.

  Pageant finalists were supposed to come in their Christmas best. Back in the day, people used to wear their fanciest dresses and suits. But then one year some guy thought it’d be a funny to wear green Christmas tree boxers and candy cane suspenders over bright red long underwear. The crowd went wild, and he ended up winning.

  Now, contestants usually turn the evening wear portion into a freak show by trying to outdo each other with the most flamboyant getup. It’s all done in the name of creativity, but I think sewing an entire jumper out of silk poinsettias is going a little too far—yes, someone actually did that.

  “I know it’s in here somewhere,” Mom said from the closet with muffled frustration.

  “Really, Mom, it’s okay if you can’t find it. I was just going to wear my T-shirt that says bah humbug.”

  Mom poked her head out and scowled at me. “You’ll do no such thing,” she warned before disappearing behind the door again. Her walk-in was huge, and her collection of clothing was even bigger. The woman loved to shop, which meant she could be searching for hours, maybe even days.

  “On second thought, take all the time you need. If you don’t find it until tomorrow, I’ll just wear the dress next year.”

  She emerged with a triumphant smile and a long black garment bag. “Nice try, but here it is.” I wrinkled my nose, and she frowned. “Why don’t you look at it before you refuse to wear it?”

  Mom laid the bag on her bedspread and carefully unzipped it. When she pulled it open, my jaw dropped. It was the most gorgeous dress I’d ever seen. “Where did you get this?” I asked breathlessly. I ran my fingers across the delicate fabric. She slid the gown from the bag and held it up in front of her.

  “Does that mean you like it?” She turned to face the full-length mirror, swaying from side to side, probably trying to imagine herself wearing it.

  “No, Mom. I love it! Seriously, how come I’ve never seen you wear this?”

  She sighed. “Sadly, it doesn’t fit me. I came across it at an estate sale a few years ago. It was the end of the day, and the owner was practically giving it away. I knew it would just get donated if I didn’t buy it, and I couldn’t bear to see something so elegant end up in a thrift store. It only cost me fifty dollars. Steal of a deal. I brought it home and took it to Tina, hoping she could alter it. But there wasn’t enough fabric to let it out. It’s been sitting in my closet, collecting dust, waiting for the day when my beautiful, stubborn daughter might need a pageant gown.”

  I rolled my eyes. She motioned for me to join her in front of the mirror and held the dress up in front of me. “If I’d known this dress existed, I’d have signed up for the pageant ages ago.”

  Mom laughed and handed me the hanger. “That’s all the motivation you needed? A pretty dress?” I nodded vigorously, unable to speak. “You’re still a size six, yeah?”

  “Mm-hm.”

  “All right, go try it on.”

  I went into the closet, shimmied out of my clothes, pulled the
dress up, and zipped it shut. When I came back, my mother stared at me and tears filled her eyes. “It fits perfectly,” she whispered. “I knew it would.”

  As I took in my reflection, I barely noticed the ratty hair and residue from yesterday’s makeup. The gown was floor length and made of a deep red satin material. A fine silver thread was woven into the folds of the skirt, which fit snug around the waist and fanned out toward my feet. The bodice had corset-like boning and a sleeveless sweetheart neckline. It emphasized the curves I had and amplified the ones I was lacking.

  “All I need is some white furry trim around the bottom, and I’d look like Mrs. Claus.” I paused and wrinkled my nose. “Not the way Kathy does. I’d be the young, sexy version.”

  I was surprised when Mom laughed instead of getting on my case for being rude. She was obviously caught up in the moment. “I could probably arrange that, you know.”

  “Not necessary. It’s great like it is.” I did a few more twirls, then took the dress off and headed to the shower. When I was done bathing and finished drying my hair, Mom called me downstairs. “Chrissy, you have a visitor.”

  I thought it would be Nate, but then I remembered he was spending the morning at his dad’s house. Instead, I found Tina standing in the foyer with a small suitcase. “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “I’ve been recruited to do hair and makeup,” she replied.

  “Oh, you don’t have to do that.” I pulled my ponytail through my fingers. “I can curl the ends under or something.”

  “Girl, you did not just say that.” Tina shook her head in exasperation. “Go put on a shirt that buttons down the front.” I did as instructed, then met Tina in my mom’s bathroom.

  “Why are we starting so early?” I asked, looking at my phone. “It’s barely noon. The pageant doesn’t start until three.”

  “Beauty takes time, kiddo. And I’m going to make you the belle of the ball.”

  Over the next two hours, I was curled, fluffed, teased, and pinned until my hair was so tight it felt like I’d gotten a facelift. When she was almost done, Tina made me turn around so I could have a climactic reveal. But not before she spent another thirty minutes on my makeup.