And I do. I run like heck right out the door, into the waiting van, and speed right back to that little pâtisserie of mine that I’ll own for the next seven hours tops. And after that—it’s powdered sugared curtains for me.
It doesn’t look as if it will be a merry Christmas after all.
* * *
The night of the community center benefit always calls for everyone to wear their Sunday best. Over the years, some of the women—Sabrina and her cohorts—have taken it over the fashionista top. I’ll admit, it’s fun to see all of the men looking dapper in suits and the women dressed to the glittering nines. I’ve secretly envied the top of the line couture dresses Sabrina has worn proudly—a tad too proudly—in seasons past. But as for me, I’ve donned the very same dress for the past few years, a festive red fitted shift that hugs my curves in all the right places. No one seems to mind that the dress is on repeat, and if they do, they haven’t bothered to complain about it. I primp and prime myself with the best of them for all of fifteen minutes. I’ve been on my feet at the bakery all day, and, to be truthful, the only thing I want to do tonight is sit by a crackling fire with Graham and Noel. Maybe I’ll throw in a couple of cups of cocoa and some homemade marshmallows, too. Now that sounds like a perfect Christmas Eve if you ask me—one that doesn’t include a creature by the name of Sabrina Jarrett.
But Sabrina isn’t my only problem this evening. Noel proved to be a challenge to place while the entire town is gathering en mass for a Christmas feast. Graham finally found a ranch hand who readily volunteered to watch her for the evening since he needed to be home with his very pregnant wife. I’m just hoping that Noel, in all her exuberance, doesn’t throw the poor lady into an early labor. It wouldn’t be the first bit of mischief that baby girl has thrown herself into. And a delivery room is the one place Noel doesn’t belong.
Since Graham is coming from the orchard, we’ve decided to go ahead and meet at the community center. He hasn’t seen me yet in my tight little quasi-Mrs. Claus outfit, and God knows I can’t wait to lay eyes on Graham Holiday in a suit. As much as Sabrina insists on ruining this night for me, I can’t help but feel a bit elated as if Graham and I were about to attend some formal romantic venue, like say, prom.
My stomach tenses in knots as I head into the community center, already bustling with life. Graham might look like a dream come true, but no thanks to Sabrina that dream will be her reality if she can help it.
My fists ball up, and a spiral of anxiety rockets through me. All I have to do is ask Graham to sit next to Sabrina for a few hours. That shouldn’t be too hard. But then, what happens next? We can’t go on like this forever, can we? I know that Graham loves me. He told me so himself, and I will never forget how he looked washed in the moonlight, his eyes on fire all for me. But would he really go on with some fake relationship, for who knows how long, just so I can keep the cookies rolling in Gingerbread? I think not. It’s going to take more than just a miracle or two to untangle myself from this Jarrett-shaped knot. Face it—Sabrina has me by the jingle bells, and I may never get out of this mess with my head or my business intact.
The room is alive with boisterous chatter and laughter as the band plays “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree”. I spot Mom speaking with a couple by the kitchen, so I head in that direction to say hello. The woman she’s with turns my way, and I freeze. It just so happens the couple Mom is happily chortling away with is Samantha and Ron Holiday, Graham’s parents. Gah! She’s probably already spilled the relationship beans. No matter how much I protest, my mother is already planning our wedding. And if Sabrina gets wind of it, she might be planning my funeral, too. My feet pivot as I attempt to get lost in the crowd. All of Gingerbread has donned their finery, and I haven’t even had the time to properly admire it.
“Missy!” Mom cries. “Oh, Missy? Yoo-hoo!”
I’m dead.
I turn slowly and force a smile as I head that way and quickly wish the Holidays a merry Christmas.
Mom pulls me in. “The Holidays were kind enough to extend an invitation to their home tomorrow evening. It looks as if we’ll be celebrating Christmas together like one big happy family!” She looks to Samantha—Graham in female skin. “They’re quite serious, you know.”
“Mother!” Before I can properly refute her theory—even though she is one hundred percent correct—Holly and Tom show up with the world’s most adorable little girl all decked out like a living doll. “Savanah Joy!” Mom beams as all of our attention is quickly turned to the tiny princess in a red tartan dress, and I make a break for it.
“Not so fast!” Holly chases me down and spins me around. I can’t help but notice how gorgeous she looks in a matching red tartan dress to that of Savy’s. If I ever have a daughter, I will most certainly subject her to that long-standing Winters’ tradition that requires the younger of the Winters heirs to subject themselves to a strict lookalike dress code to that of their mother’s. “Sabrina Jarrett just accosted me in the parking lot. She said something about Graham and a crown and the fact our bakery would be hers by morning if she didn’t do the pageant wave before midnight.” Her lips are pulled back in a scowl as she grits the words through her teeth. “Why do I get the sneaking suspicion you know exactly what that loon is referring to?” She sucks in a quick breath as she comes to an abrupt realization. “You promised her she could have Graham, and now she’s going to eat our lunch! And our breakfast and our cookies, too!”
“You catch on fast.” I smirk into the crowd, half-afraid I’ll catch a glimpse of the wicked witch herself. But I don’t. Instead, I lock eyes with a handsome prince, and I couldn’t be more pleased. As harried as this night might be, there is something soothing about looking into Graham Holiday’s ocean blue eyes. “I gotta run! Say a prayer it all works out! Say twelve!” I thread through the tangle of limbs until I’m locked in an embrace with the handsomest man in the room. Graham Holiday looks like a dream—my dream. His hair is glossy, still slightly damp from the shower, his cologne is strong enough to let me know that the special occasion called for an extra splash, but that Italian fitted suit, those cobalt blue eyes—my, how every last inch of me approves.
“You look”—he shakes his head while holding me out for a better view—“simply amazing.”
“And you look as if you might be crowned king in just a few hours.” I give a little shrug just as the music cuts out and everyone is asked to take their seats so we can say a blessing over our meal.
Graham takes me by the hand and begins leading me toward the table with Holly and her family, and we find Tanner seated with them as well.
Sabrina steps into our line of vision, and we both freeze solid—for very different reasons, I suppose.
“Actually”—I take a deep breath—“you’ll be seated in a very special place tonight.” I traipse him over to the front and plant him in the spot where Sabrina all but threatened to slit my financial neck a few hours ago. I lean in and whisper to that drop-dead gorgeous, yet bewildered face. “Just play along. I’ll explain everything later, I promise.”
I scuttle back to Holly’s table and take a seat next to Tanner. They share the same jarring blue eyes and dimples, and if I squint real hard, I can almost fool myself into thinking it’s Graham himself. Almost. And I’m beginning to think the only fool around here is me.
Sabrina takes her seat next to Graham, and he shoots me a look that suggests I’ll have to explain things a lot sooner than I was hoping.
The microphone picks up feedback as Mayor Todd takes the podium, and never in my life have I been so glad for the distraction.
“Welcome and good evening.” He chortles while extending a cup of eggnog to the crowd. “Merry Christmas to one and all—and to one and all a merry Christmas!” He does his best impersonation of Santa while ho-ho-hoing through his laughter, and the room breaks out with a choir of Christmas greetings in reciprocation. “First, I want to thank all of the hardworking people who banded together to pull off yet another Chr
istmas spectacular here at the community center. As you know, there will be an ongoing silent auction all evening, commencing at eight o’clock. So please open your hearts and your wallets, as all proceeds go directly to the community center itself.” A polite round of applause breaks out, and Sabrina turns and hisses something at him. “Uh, yes.” He clears his throat as he looks back at the crowd with a hint of apprehension. Wow, it looks as if Sabrina might have Mayor Todd by the jingle bells as well. “This evening, for the very first time, the Jarrett Foundation, which has made many generous donations to the community center over the years, has suggested we mix things up a bit.” He says that last part laden with uncertainty. “Ladies and gentlemen, I want to introduce to you our very first Christmas king and queen, Sabrina Jarrett and Graham Holiday.”
The room breaks out into a riotous applause as if people actually approved of this ludicrous tomfoolery. I don’t even like the word tomfoolery, and yet with Sabrina’s latest shenanigans, it fits oh so well.
Tanner barks out an obnoxious laugh as his brother reluctantly stands—or more to the point, as Sabrina yanks him from his seat. All the while Graham looks my way in what appears to be a cross between begging for help and threatening to get even. It seems old habits do die hard.
Holly yanks me in. “What the heck is happening? And why did Sabrina just hijack Christmas and turn it into a homecoming dance?”
I wince because, truthfully, I hate that I’m in the know on this one.
“I think she just likes the attention.” I clap along with the rest of the crowd as the two of them are bestowed sparkling crowns. My God, they look as if they cost some serious money. Hey? If Sabrina really does triple our rent, maybe I can convince Graham to cash in his crown to help chip in?
Sabrina leans into the microphone, her body doing its best to spill out of that gold lame number she’s stuffed herself into like a sausage. And really? Gold lame? Has she no real friends?
“Hello!” She does that twisted wrist motion wave that she’s been craving to toss our way for who knows how long. “I just want to thank everyone who came out to see us. You’re in for a lovely evening. My fiancé and I are privileged to be charter members of such an exclusive club—the very first official king and queen of Gingerbread!” Graham tips his head back, and the crown nearly skids right off his head. He looks unamused by her panache to exaggerate their current relationship status, and who could blame him? The audience gives a hooting round of applause. Clearly, the eggnog is spiked this year. “Please be aware that you, too, will be eligible to run for the honor come next December, but”—she gives a cheesy wink to Graham as she takes up his hand—“have fun trying to beat this good-looking couple!” A light titter circles the room, and I’d like to think people are laughing at her, not with her. They finally take their seats, and Mayor Todd gives the official blessing over our feast. The room lights up with a thousand conversations barreling ahead at once as the band starts in on “Jingle Bells”. It’s a potluck, and there are three different food stations set up, so no one ever has to wait in line very long.
I stand with the rest of the table, and Tanner leans in. “You can say a lot of things about Sabrina Jarrett, but she sure saved our behinds this year.”
“Oh, right, with the pies.” That I baked. That my mother helped cultivate into the superstars they’re going to be with that little pop quiz she threw me. Without the Winters women, Sabrina Jarrett is a bag of hot air. And right about now, I wish she’d float away.
Graham speeds in this direction with Sabrina by his side. The look on his face looks more like a warning of dire things to come rather than that swoony love-struck look I’ve grown accustomed to.
“No, no, no,” I say as I bolt to the kitchen. Look busy. Stay busy. And for God’s sake, avoid, avoid, AVOID those people out there tonight!
And I do, for the most part. Every now and again, I spot Graham scouring the crowd, but Sabrina has him on lockdown pretty much. Once dinner is through, and I’m pretty sure Graham didn’t eat a single bite—Sabrina links her arm through his and locks him in like a vise. Every time I look over at him, he’s trying to tear that crown off his head, but the wicked queen won’t let him.
Bodies are circulating the side tables where the hundreds of auction items are laid out for display. I can’t help but note that my gingerbread dollhouse is brimming with admirers. Let’s hope at least one of them feels the need for four feet of gingerbread to take over their living room. It’s so heavy, it took all of the staff at the bakery to move it. I hope someone with a very strong husband is willing to purchase it tonight.
“Boo!” someone whispers directly in my ear from behind, and I jump three feet in the air, only to turn to find my deviant of a sister laughing maniacally.
“It’s Christmas!” Her eyes round out as if delivering earth-shattering news. “What are you doing holed up here? Savy’s been asking about you all night. She’s worried sick that you got lost. You’ve got to get back out there. You don’t want to ruin her Christmas, do you?”
When the going gets tough, Holly often invokes Savanah. It’s the ace in her deck for many a situation. And after witnessing how expertly she wields a hand, it almost makes me want a baby so I can play the very same game. The thought of Graham and me adding a human addition to our brood one day makes me dizzy with glee, but then I remember he probably won’t be speaking to me after tonight’s royal fiasco, and therefore, all talks of procreation are swiftly wiped off the table. I bet he or she would be beautiful, though, bright blue eyes, dimples, his dark hair. I wouldn’t mind if that child looked nothing like me, so long as I could cuddle with that miniature version of Graham every single day.
Holly grunts as if reading my mind. “Stop your daydreaming. We’ve got reality to tend to,” she says, speeding me back into the crowd.
The lights have dimmed just a notch, and couples are dancing on the makeshift dance floor. Then I see them—Sabrina and Graham swaying to the rhythm like a real couple. Her arms are latched over his back, and she’s looking lovingly into his eyes. He laughs at something she tells him, and my stomach takes a nosedive. Nobody instructed him to have a good time. Apostate.
Sabrina yanks him down by the back of the neck and plants a firm kiss right over his lips.
I suck in a quick breath. “No!” I whimper. Those lips belong to me, and she’s gone too far. I take a step in that direction and then recall the fact the land beneath the bakery belongs to the Jarretts, and everything in me sags. It looks as if I’m in for a lifetime of watching those two lock lips, unless of course…
Graham pulls away abruptly, and from the looks of it, he’s exchanging curt yet gentle words with her. Sabrina takes a staggering step back, her eyes bulging unnaturally. It’s clear she’s repulsed and highly ticked off at the small dose of reality he just fed her.
“Oh no,” Holly moans. “I think he just popped that airheaded balloon you’ve been trying to keep in the air all month. You’d better go over and straighten this out.” She does her best to transport me there herself just as Nick pops up between Sabrina and Graham.
“What’s going on?” he asks as if it were any of his business. He narrows his eyes on me as if what was happening between the two of them were somehow my fault. It is, but that’s not the point.
Sabrina lets out a harrowing shriek. “I’ll tell you what’s going on. This lunatic”—she gives Graham such a violent shove to the chest half the dance floor clears out—“has professed his undying affection for that idiot!” She points a finger hard in my direction.
“No.” I shake my head, trying to refute it, and I’m pretty sure I’m just making things worse by doing so.
Sabrina takes a few stomping steps in my direction, and the band quiets down a notch before stopping the music altogether. “You promised you’d give me Graham Holiday’s head on a platter! You swore you were the premier matchmaker of all of Gingerbread, and I believed you! Once that gorgeous man waltzed into town, you said we were a match made in he
aven.”
I give a nervous glance to Graham, and our eyes lock in one horrific moment. “That’s not exactly how it went.” It is, but once again, that is not the point.
She tosses her hands in the air. “And then you said he would be mine by Christmas! You promised me that! I had your word.” She growls out that last part as if she has suddenly morphed into a lion. “And now I find out the two of you are in love?” She says love as if it were the vilest concept known to all of man.
A light gasp breaks out around us.
Nick steps forward, pinching his eyes shut a moment. “They’re not in love. Graham told me so himself. They’re just friends. He assured me himself that he could never see himself ending up with my sister.”
My mouth falls open as I look to Graham. He shakes his head slightly, but judging by that sheepish grin, I bet he used that line on my brother. He doesn’t mean it, does he?
“Well”—Sabrina digs those daggers she calls eyes into mine—“what says you, Miss Pâtisserie?” She bears into me with her fangs, and I know exactly what her twisted little heart is getting at. “Do you love Graham Holiday?”
Just Add Mistletoe: Christmas in Gingerbread, Colorado Page 14
