CHAPTER TWO
Charles Brewster, professor of history at Harvard, pinched the bridge of his nose as he stared at the computer screen. Stretching his neck to see the clock hidden behind two neatly stacked piles of paper, he discovered that it was three o’clock. Charles had to stop and calculate whether that was three in the afternoon or three at night. He often lost track of time, especially since he had an inner office without windows.
And especially since it was December. He hated the whole miserable month—the short days with darkness falling early, the snow, the distractedness of his students and colleagues. Christmas. He dreaded it each and every year. Cringed at the very mention of the holidays. Rationally he knew it was because of Monica, who’d chosen Christmas Eve to break off their relationship. She claimed he was distant and inattentive, calling him the perfect example of the absentminded professor. Charles admitted she was probably right, but he’d loved her and been shocked when she’d walked out on him.
Frowning now, Charles realized it was happening already. Christmas was coming, and once again he’d be forced to confront the memories and the bitterness. The truth was, he rarely thought of Monica anymore except at Christmas. He couldn’t help it. Boston during December depressed him. In fact, he associated Christmas, especially Christmas in the city, with unhappiness and rejection. It was as if those emotions had detached themselves from Monica and just become part of the season itself.
Standing up, he strolled out of his office and noticed that all the other History Department offices were dark and empty. It must be three at night, then, which meant he hadn’t eaten dinner yet. Funny, he distinctly remembered Mrs. Lewis bringing him a tuna sandwich and a cup of hot coffee. His assistant was thoughtful that way. On the other hand, that might’ve been the day before. Frankly, Charles no longer remembered. His stomach growled, and he rummaged through his desk drawers for a snack. He located a candy bar, eating it hungrily, with only the briefest consideration of how old it might be.
It was too late to head home now, Charles decided. If he left the building, Security would be on him so fast he wouldn’t make it to the front door. He’d have to haul out all his identification and explain why he was still here and…No, it was easier just to stay.
He returned his attention to the computer screen and his work. He’d recently been contracted to write a textbook. He’d agreed to a tight deadline because he knew it would help him get through the holidays. Now he wondered if he’d taken on too much.
The next time he glanced up from the computer, Mrs. Lewis had stepped into the office. “Professor Brewster, were you here all night?”
Charles leaned back in his chair and rubbed his hand along his face. “It seems I was.”
Shaking her head, she placed a cup of hot, black coffee on his desk.
He sipped it gratefully. “What day is this?” It was a question he asked often—so often that it didn’t even cause the department secretary’s brow to wrinkle.
“Tuesday, December fourteenth.”
“It’s the fourteenth already?” He could feel the panic rising.
“Yes, Professor. And you have three student appointments today.”
“I see.” But all Charles saw was trouble. If his mother wasn’t pestering him, then it was his students. He sighed, suddenly exhausted. He’d spent the better part of fifteen hours writing his American history text, focusing on the Colonial era, the Revolutionary War and the country’s founding fathers. Much of his work that night had been about the relationship between Thomas Jefferson and Aaron Burr. It wouldn’t be light reading, but he knew his history and loved it. If he met his deadline, which Charles was determined to do, and turned in the completed manuscript shortly after the first of the year, it would be published and ready for use by the start of the 2006 autumn classes. High aspirations, but Charles knew he could meet the challenge.
“Your mother just phoned again,” Mrs. Lewis informed him. She’d left his office and returned to set the mail on his desk.
Charles sighed. His mother’s intentions were good, but she worried about him far too much. For years now, she’d been after him to join her in Arizona for the holidays. Personally, Charles would rather have his fingernails pulled out than spend Christmas with his mother. She suffocated him with her concern and irritated him with her matchmaking efforts. Try as he might, he couldn’t make her understand that he wasn’t interested in another relationship. His one and only attempt at romance had practically demolished him. After Monica’s Christmas Eve defection, he’d shielded himself from further involvement. He was content with his life, although his mother refused to believe it. He didn’t want a relationship. Women made demands on his time; they were a luxury he couldn’t afford if he planned to get ahead in his profession. He wanted to write and teach and there simply weren’t enough hours in the day as it was. Frankly that suited him just fine.
If Ray would do him the favor of marrying, Charles would be off the hook. Unfortunately his older brother seemed to be a confirmed bachelor. That left Charles—and his mother wasn’t giving up without a fight. At every opportunity she shoved women in his path. Twice in the last six months she’d sent the daughters of friends to Boston to lure him out of his stuffy classroom, as she called it. Both attempts had ended in disaster.
“She wants to know your plans for the holidays.”
Charles stiffened. This was how their last conversation had begun. His mother had casually inquired about his plans for Labor Day, and the next thing he knew she’d arranged a dinner engagement for him with one of those young women. That particular one had been a twenty-four-year-old TV production assistant in New York; to say they had nothing in common was putting it mildly. “What did you tell my mother?” he asked.
“That you were occupied and unable to take the call.”
From the way Mrs. Lewis’s lips thinned, Charles guessed she wasn’t pleased at having to engage in this small deception. “Thank you,” he muttered.
“She insisted I must know about your plans for Christmas,” Mrs. Lewis said in a severe voice.
Apprehension shot up his back. “What did you say?”
Mrs. Lewis crossed her arms and stared down at him. “I said I am not privy to your private arrangements, and that for all I knew you were going out of town.”
Actually, that didn’t sound like a bad plan. He needed an escape, and the sooner the better. If his mother’s behavior was true to pattern, she was about to sic some woman on him. As soon as Mrs. Lewis had made that comment about traveling, the idea took root in his mind. It would do him good to get out of the city. He didn’t care where he went as long as it was away from Boston, away from his seasonal misery. Someplace quiet would suit him nicely. Someplace where he could work and not worry about what time or day it happened to be.
“Hmm. That has possibilities,” he murmured thoughtfully.
The older woman didn’t seem to know what he was talking about. His students often wore the same confused look, as if he were speaking in a foreign language.
“Traveling.” The decision made now, he stood and reached for his overcoat. “Yes.”
Her gaze narrowed. “Excuse me?”
“That was an excellent idea. I’m leaving town for the holidays.” All he wanted was peace and quiet; that should be simple enough to arrange.
“Where?” Mrs. Lewis stammered, following him out of his office.
He shrugged. “I really don’t care.”
“Well, I could call a travel agent for recommendations.”
“Don’t bother.”
A travel agent might book him into some area where he’d be surrounded by people and festivities centered on the Christmas holidays. Any contact with others was out of the question. He wanted to find a place where he’d be completely alone, with no chance of being disturbed. And if possible, he wanted to find a place where Christmas wasn’t a big deal.
He told Mrs. Lewis all this, then asked her for suggestions. He turned down Vermont, Aspen, Santa Fe
and Disney World.
Disney World!
At her despairing look, he sighed again. “Never mind,” he said. “I’ll do it myself.”
She nodded and seemed relieved.
Later that day, Charles had to admit that finding an obscure location for travel on such short notice was difficult. Taking his briefcase with him, he walked to his condo, not far from the university area. But after he’d showered, heated up a microwave lasagna for his dinner and slept, he tackled the project with renewed enthusiasm. It was now shortly after 8:00 p.m.
After calling half a dozen airlines, he realized he was seeking the impossible. Not a man to accept defeat, Charles went online to do his own investigative work. It was while he was surfing the Internet that he found a site on which people traded homes for short periods.
One such notice was from a woman who’d posted a message: Desperately Seeking Home in Boston for Christmas Holidays.
Charles read the message twice, awed by his good fortune. This woman, a schoolteacher in a small town in Washington State, sought a residence in Boston for two weeks over the Christmas holidays. She could travel after December 17th and return as late as December 31st.
The dates were perfect for Charles. He started to get excited. This might actually work without costing him an arm and a leg. Since he didn’t have to register in a hotel, his mother would have no obvious means of tracking him. Oh, this was very good news indeed.
Charles answered the woman right away.
From: “Charles Brewster”
To: “Emily Springer” [email protected] Sent: December 14, 2004
Subject: Trading Places
Dear Ms. Springer,
I’m responding to the DESPERATELY SEEKING IN BOSTON advertisement shown on the Trading Homes Web site. I live in Boston and teach at Harvard. My condo is a two-bedroom, complete with all modern conveniences. You can e-mail me with your questions at the address listed above. I eagerly await your reply.
Sincerely,
Charles Brewster
Before long Charles received a response. Naturally, she had a number of questions. He had a few of his own, but once he was assured that he’d be completely alone in a small Eastern Washington town, Charles agreed to the swap. He supplied references, and she offered her own.
A flurry of e-mails quickly passed between them as they figured out the necessary details. Emily seemed to think she owed him an explanation as to why she was interested in Boston. He didn’t tell her that he didn’t care about her reasons.
He certainly didn’t mention his own. He rather enjoyed the notion of spending time in a town called Leavenworth. If he remembered correctly, a big federal prison was situated in the area. As far as Charles was concerned, that was even better. The less celebrating going on, the happier he’d be. He could spend the holidays in a nice, quiet prison town without any Christmas fuss.
His remaining concern was buying a plane ticket, but once again the online travel sites came to his rescue. Charles had no objection to flying a red-eye, since half the time he didn’t know whether it was day or night.
“Everything’s been arranged,” he announced to Mrs. Lewis the following morning.
She responded with a brief nod. “So you have decided to travel.”
“I have.”
She held up her hand. “Don’t tell me any of the details.”
He stared at her. “Why not?”
“In case your mother asks, I can honestly tell her I don’t know.”
“Excellent idea.” He beamed at the brilliance of her suggestion. For once, he was going to outsmart his dear, sweet matchmaker of a mother and at the same time blot Christmas from the calendar. School was closing for winter recess and if she couldn’t reach him, she’d assume he wasn’t answering his phone, which he rarely did, anyway—even before caller ID. And suppose his mother found some way to get hold of Mrs. Lewis during the Christmas holidays? It wouldn’t matter, because Mrs. Lewis didn’t know a thing! This was more satisfactory by the minute.
For two blessed weeks in December, he was going to escape Christmas and his mother in one fell swoop.
No question about it, life didn’t get any better than this.
CHAPTER THREE
The bell rang, dismissing Faith Kerrigan’s last junior-high literature class of the afternoon. Her students were out of the room so fast, anyone might think the building was in danger of exploding. She could understand their eagerness to leave. When classes were dismissed for winter break at the end of the week, she’d be ready—more than ready.
“Faith?” Sharon Carson stuck her head in the doorway. “You want to hit the mall this afternoon?”
Faith cringed. The crowds were going to be horrendous, and it would take a braver woman than she to venture into a mall this close to the holidays. One advantage of being single was that Faith didn’t have a lot of Christmas shopping to do. That thought, however, depressed her.
She was an aunt three times over, thanks to her younger sister. Faith loved her nephews, but she’d always dreamed of being a mother herself one day. She’d said goodbye to that dream when she divorced. At the time she hadn’t realized it; she’d blithely assumed she’d remarry, but to this point she hadn’t met anyone who even remotely interested her. She hadn’t guessed it would be that difficult to meet a decent man, but apparently she’d been wrong. Now thirty, she’d begun to feel her chances were growing bleaker by the day.
“Not tonight, Sharon, but thanks.”
Her fellow teacher and friend leaned against the door of her classroom. “You’re usually up for a trip to the mall. Is something bothering you?”
“Not really.” Other than the sorry state of her love life, the only thing on Faith’s mind was getting through the next few days of classes.
“Are you sure?” Sharon pressed.
“I’m sure.” Faith glanced over at her and smiled. She was tall, the same height as Faith at five foot eight, and ten years older. Odd that her two best friends were forty. Both Emily and Sharon were slightly overweight, while Faith kept her figure trim and athletic. Emily was an undiscovered beauty. She was also the perfect kindergarten teacher, patient and gentle. She looked far younger than her years, with short curly brown hair and dark eyes. Unlike Faith, she wasn’t interested in sports. Emily felt she got enough physical exercise racing after five-year-olds all day and had no interest in joining the gym or owning a treadmill. Come to think of it, Faith wasn’t sure Leavenworth even had a gym.
Faith ran five miles three times a week and did a seven-mile-run each weekend. She left the races to those who enjoyed collecting T-shirts. She wasn’t one of them. The running habit had started shortly after her separation, and she’d never stopped.
“You haven’t mentioned Emily lately. What’s up with her?” Sharon asked and came all the way into the room. The summer before, when Sharon and her family had taken a trip north to Washington State, Faith had suggested they visit Leavenworth. As soon as Emily learned Faith’s friend would be in the area, she’d insisted on showing them the town. Emily was the consummate host and a fabulous cook. Sharon had come back full of tales about Leavenworth and Emily.
“I talked to her on Sunday.” Faith began erasing the blackboard, but paused in the middle of a sweeping motion. “Funny you should mention her, because she’s been on my mind ever since.”
“I thought you two e-mailed back and forth every day.”
“We do—well, almost every day.” Faith had sent Emily an e-mail the day before and hadn’t heard back, which told her Emily was especially busy. No doubt there’d be a message waiting for her once she got home.
She turned to face Sharon. “I think I might’ve offended her.” Now that she thought about it, Faith realized she probably had. “Emily phoned, which she rarely does, to tell me Heather won’t be coming home for Christmas. I told Emily it was time Heather had her own life and to make the best of it.” Given the opportunity, she’d gladly take back those words. “I
can’t believe I wasn’t more sympathetic,” Faith said, pulling out the desk chair to sit down. She felt dreadful. Her friend had phoned looking for understanding, and Faith had let her down.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Sharon said. She slipped into one of the student desks.
“Emily doesn’t want to be alone over Christmas, and who can blame her?”
“No one wants to be alone at Christmas.”
Faith didn’t; in fact she’d made plans to visit Penny and join in the festivities with her nephews. “I was completely and utterly insensitive. Poor Emily.” No wonder she hadn’t answered Faith’s e-mail.
“What are you going to do?” Sharon asked.
“What makes you think I’m going to do anything?”
A smile crept over Sharon’s face. “Because I know you. I can tell from the look in your eyes.”
“Well, you’re right. I have an idea.”
“What?”
Faith was almost beside herself with glee. “I’m going to surprise Emily and visit her for Christmas.”
“I thought you were spending the holidays with your sister.”
“I was, but Penny will understand.” The truth, Faith realized, was that Penny might even be grateful.
“It’s pretty hard to book a flight at this late date,” Sharon said, frowning.
“I know…. I haven’t figured that out yet.” Booking a flight could be a problem, but Faith was convinced she’d find a way, even if it meant flying in the dead of night. There had to be a flight into the Seattle-Tacoma airport at some point between Friday night and Christmas Day.
“My sister-in-law works for a travel agent. Would you like her number?”
“Thanks, Sharon.”
They walked to the faculty lounge together and got their purses out of their lockers. Sharon pulled out her cell phone, then scrolled down until she found the number. Faith quickly made a note of it.
“If there’s a flight to be had, Carrie will find it,” Sharon assured her.
When Christmas Comes Page 2
