He turned the page of the magazine he was holding and reached for the remote control, searching for the hockey game as he settled for some nonfat crackers he’d unearthed in the kitchen pantry.
Bah, humbug.
3
December 18
“SO WHAT HAPPENED to Mr. Smith?” Noel asked the following afternoon on their way to see the house he was interested in after Hollie had finally found the key in another purse of hers, not Elena’s.
“There’s no Mr. Smith. Never has been. Sarah adopted Elena as a single woman.”
“And you think Elena needs a father? She seems happy, if not a little spoiled, to me.”
“Having grown up in orphanages and foster homes, I guess I will always think having two parents is the way it should be.”
“How’d you happen to grow up in orphanages?” Noel’s voice changed to a shout. “Look out, that cigar-chomping idiot in the big boat is drifting over into our lane.”
Hollie maneuvered to avoid the bald-headed driver she’d seen without Noel’s back-seat driving. “My parents were killed in an accident when I was little.”
“And you weren’t adopted? I find that hard to believe, with your cute curls and all. You must have been more trouble than you were cute.”
“I could never seem to remember when visiting day was,” she hedged. “When prospective parents came to look us over, I was always missing somehow.”
“More likely you’d shinnied up a neighborhood fruit tree to steal peaches while everyone was occupied, then sold the peaches to the other kids later.”
Hollie laughed. “How’d you know?”
“I’m in sales.”
“So how did you happen to grow up in boarding school?” she asked, as they drove down the street the house was located on.
“My father was ambassador to Holland. He fell in love with a Dutch girl. They traveled around quite a bit so I was sent to boarding school in The Hague.”
“That explains the slight accent.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “Come on, Ms. Winslow, let’s find out if you can sell me this house from the inside,” Noel said, seeing he wasn’t going to get a rise out of her.
A breeze lifted the bow on the holiday wreath on the door as Hollie inserted her key to get them inside the house.
“Sign in.” Hollie slid the guest register on the table to him and handed him a pen.
Since she hadn’t toured the house previously, they toured the place together. It had been professionally decorated, so it showed well. But the personal touches that give a house warmth were lacking. Anyone at all might have lived there. Hollie felt sad for the house. No pictures of loved ones anywhere. No children’s drawings or funny cartoons or silly magnets on the refrigerator door in the kitchen.
With the exception of the clothes in the closets, the house looked as if it were a display home in one of the new developments nearby.
“What do you think?” Hollie asked when they descended the stairs from the second floor.
“You’re the saleslady—you tell me. Why should I buy this house?”
“It’s in a good neighborhood, the price is reasonable, it’s low maintenance and you can move in before Christmas,” she said, checking the sheet in her hand about the availability to make sure.
“But—”
“But?”
“I hear a but in your voice. Tell me why I shouldn’t buy this house.”
Hollie strolled to the expanse of windows in the kitchen and looked out over the large yard. The refrigerator kicked on and hummed in the silence between them. Finally she answered. “I don’t think this is the right house for you.” There, it was out—and she was certifiable. She was supposed to be selling him the house, not trying to discourage him from buying it. “This house is sad and deserves a happy family.”
“What?” He looked at her, incredulous.
“Hey, I don’t like it any more than you do, but you asked me, so I have to tell you. I don’t think you and this house are a good match, no matter how much I’d like to sell it to you and get on with my vacation.”
“That’s your only reason—this feeling you have about me and the house?”
She nodded.
“Then let’s write up an offer,” he insisted, going to sit down at the kitchen counter, where she’d left her briefcase. “You did remember to bring an offer form?”
“Of course.”
She joined him at the counter and withdrew the necessary form from her briefcase.
“What do you want to offer on it?” she asked after filling out the standard information on the form.
“Let’s make it twenty thousand under the asking price.”
She didn’t say anything as she jotted down the figure.
“You don’t agree?” he asked.
“It’s your money. I’m just surprised you’re haggling when you’re so anxious to get into a house and out of town before Christmas.”
“No one expects you to offer the full price. I may be anxious, but I’m not foolish. Or sad,” he insisted.
Hollie laughed. “You don’t like being told anything, do you?”
“And you do?” he countered, signing the offer she slid across the counter to him.
He had her there. She didn’t like being told much. Growing up alone had made her self-sufficient.
“Well, I’ll present the offer for you and let you know as soon as I hear something.” She folded the form and put it in her briefcase, then withdrew the cellular phone. “As soon as I put in a call on it, we can go.”
Noel didn’t walk around and inspect the house further while she made the call. He couldn’t have appeared more uninterested. The house must just be a business investment for him, she decided. He’d probably grown tired of living out of hotel rooms. Sarah had mentioned something about him moving every year to set up new stores. What a terribly lonely life. No wonder he was sad.
She felt sorry for both him and the house.
HOLLIE HADN’T BELIEVED Noel was serious when he volunteered to go shopping with her while they waited to hear back on his offer. She had thought he’d be a wet blanket, complain nonstop about how long it took her to make up her mind, the holiday crowds, the long waits.
Instead he’d been a lot of help. With his assistance, she’d already gotten her business gifts out of the way, negotiated a great deal on some new lights for her Christmas mantel and found the Barbie Elena wanted for Christmas.
The last Barbie like it in the toy store.
Unfortunately, the Barbie had on the wrong color dress. Elena wanted the one with the pink dress, not the peach one. Noel even understood the distinction. She stood pondering the dilemma in the middle of the crowded toy store, her arms full of packages. He’d offered to carry, but she hadn’t wanted to push her luck. The smart thing would be to return to the car and unload the packages into the trunk.
However, she didn’t want to buy the Barbie in the peach dress if the toy store at the other end of the mall had it in the pink dress. She knew that if she put down the Barbie she’d found, the chances were very good someone else would buy it before she returned to the store. Better a Barbie with the wrong color dress than no Barbie at all.
“Here, you hold this,” Hollie said impulsively, shoving her packages and the Barbie into Noel’s arms. Left with two small Barbie accessory packets, she slipped them into Noel’s jacket pocket. “Whatever you do, hang on to the Barbie. I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you—” Noel started to ask, but she’d disappeared into the crowd.
The only thing he could do was wait—not his favorite thing.
And worse, clutching a Barbie the woman with the red hair was eyeing.
A four-year-old miniature of the woman was tugging her arm, yelling, “I want that Barbie, Mommy. I want it—I want it.”
“There aren’t any more,” the woman tried saying patiently.
“But I want it,” the child scream
ed.
Tired and cranky and just full of the holiday spirit, Noel thought, wanting to be somewhere else. He glanced around for Hollie, but she was nowhere in sight. If he moved she’d never find him, so he was stuck.
“I want that Barbie, Mommy. Why does that man have a Barbie?”
Oh, great. Now he felt like a pervert. And people were beginning to stare.
The woman approached him with her child in tow. “Are you planning to buy that doll?” she asked.
“Maybe,” he answered honestly.
“Well, when will you know? Because if you don’t plan to buy it, my daughter wants it.”
“I’m waiting for someone,” Noel explained lamely.
“Can I hold it?” the little girl asked, her tears making her eyes bright.
He knew better, but he was on the spot. Besides, what could it hurt to let the little girl hold the doll? Once her fascination was done with, she’d move on to wanting something else. Even children lost interest in things they’d wanted desperately, once they had them.
He relented and handed the doll to the little girl, who presented him with a smile. Noel wished Hollie would hurry up and return.
Another younger woman, perhaps twenty, felt the material of his jacket, distracting him.
“Where did you get your jacket? I need a present for my boyfriend and I really like yours. Was it terribly expensive?”
“It’s ah…” Noel couldn’t remember who the designer was.
“Can I check the label…?” the bold young woman asked, inching closer, reaching upward with her arm.
“It’s Calvin Klein,” Noel blurted, backing away.
He was getting warm, and the din of the shoppers was closing in on him.
Where was Hollie?
The young woman was incorrigible. And it was clear now that more than the jacket interested her.
“Was that doll you were looking at for your little girl?” she asked.
It was plain to Noel she meant “Are you married?”
“No. It’s for—” He glanced around and his stomach sank. The little girl and her mother were gone.
And so was the Barbie.
“Excuse me,” he said, moving away from the woman flirting with him to search for the two who’d lifted the Barbie he was supposed to be holding for safekeeping. He didn’t want to be there when Hollie got back if he’d lost the doll.
But the two weren’t in the front of the store by the register. They’d checked out in record time, and now he’d never find them. Well, there was no use in waiting around in the store for Hollie to appear. He might as well find her and tell her he’d screwed up and get it over with.
He thought he’d heard Hollie mutter something about another toy store when she’d left. He asked the checkout clerk, who said there was one at the south entrance. Just as he was exiting the store to find it, loud beeping went off.
“Sir, sir. You have to wait,” a young male clerk yelled after him.
While Noel stood where he was, the clerk called the manager to come to the front of the store. The manager still had pimples, and he had an attitude about having responsibility. He had something to prove to Noel.
“If you’ll just step back inside the store and come with me,” he instructed Noel.
“There’s some mistake,” Noel stated between clenched teeth.
“If you’ll just come back to my office.”
Everyone had stopped to stare, making Noel feel like a criminal. He knew he hadn’t stolen anything, but no one else did.
Hollie chose just that moment to return.
“Hey, John, how’s the new house?” She’d met John Pritchard a couple of months earlier when she’d helped him and his young wife find the ideal starter house—a cozy two-bedroom in the suburbs.
“Great. We love it. On another matter, do you know this man, Hollie?” John asked.
“Yeah, he’s shopping with me. Why?”
“The beepers went off when he tried to leave the store.”
“What? Are you trying to steal the Barbie, Noel?” Hollie teased.
“I don’t even have the Barbie,” Noel said, fuming.
“What?” The teasing note was gone from Hollie’s voice. “What do you mean, you don’t have the Barbie?”
“I let a little kid hold it and she took off with it,” Noel explained.
“There you have it, John. Some little kid set off the beepers.”
John glanced at the clerk by the door, who shook his head no.
“We’ll need to look in your packages, sir,” John insisted.
“Jo-ohn!” Hollie pleaded, embarrassed.
Noel could see the kid was determined, so he handed over the packages. He knew all about security systems and something had made this one go off. Unless it was malfunctioning. It didn’t take much imagination to guess what had happened. Someone must have bumped something into one of his shopping bags. This could all be easily explained away as an accident if he just let the kid have his moment of glory.
John went through the shopping bags, while everyone looked on as though they were witnessing the climactic third act of a play. The moment was anticlimactic, however, because not a piece of merchandise from the store was in the shopping bags.
“See, I told you,” Hollie stated triumphantly.
“We’ll need you to empty your pockets,” John said, ignoring Hollie.
“But, Jo-ohn!”
“It’s store policy, Hollie.”
So the system had malfunctioned. It was Noel’s turn to be cocky. With an exasperated sigh, he reached into his pockets—and his face fell. Besides some change there was something in his left pocket. Reluctantly, he withdrew it for John to see.
“I don’t know how these got here,” Noel insisted, looking at the two small packets of Barbie accessories as if they were tiny alien spaceships that had somehow landed in his pocket.
“I do,” Hollie interrupted.
“You do?” both John and Noel said.
“I put them there when I gave you everything in my hands to hold.”
“Thanks for telling me.”
“So this is really all an innocent misunderstanding,” John said, taking the two packets. “You really didn’t mean to, ah…”
“No, I can assure you I didn’t mean to, ah…” Noel informed him. “Am I free to go?”
“Go,” John said, handing the confiscated merchandise to the clerk. “And you, Hollie. Next time be sure you don’t—”
“I will, John. Promise.” She hurried out of the store after Noel, whose long legs were carrying him to the nearest exit.
“Will you wait up for me?” she said, finally catching up to Noel, struggling with her full shopping bags. “Can’t you see the funny side to this?” she pleaded as they left the mall together.
He stopped and scowled down at her. “There is nothing funny about almost being arrested for shoplifting,” he declared. “Nothing funny in the least.”
“Come on, weren’t you just a little excited about the possibility of handcuffs?” He looked sexy when he was angry. She liked making him lose his tight rein on his emotions.
“No.”
“Yeah, I keep forgetting how stuffy you are,” she said, as he picked up the shopping bags she’d set down and followed her to her car.
“I am not stuffy.” She made him nuts.
“Yeah, you’re just a real picnic in the park.” He made her nuts. “Okay, okay. Let’s just say we’re even.”
“‘Even’?” Clearly he didn’t believe what he was hearing.
She unlocked the trunk of her car and he piled the shopping bags inside. “Even. I might have nearly gotten you arrested, but you let a little girl rip off my Barbie doll. Do you know how hard that doll is going to be to find? And Elena has her heart set on it.”
“Well, I wasn’t about to try to take the Barbie away from that little girl once she had it. Can you imagine the scene that would have caus
ed?”
Hollie laughed as the two of them got into the car. “Man, you sure don’t like to be embarrassed.”
“I don’t think anyone in his right mind wants to be handcuffed and carted off to jail. It’s not my idea of a real good time.” At least the “carted off to jail” part wasn’t.
“Oh, lighten up, Noel. I’m going to have to be fingerprinted for my job if the news media have their way. Some dumb study found there are more felons in real estate than any other profession. Since we have access to people’s homes…”
“Speaking of homes, your beeper didn’t go off signaling we had a deal on my offer, did it?”
“I’d have told you.” She exited the parking lot.
“Even in all the excitement?”
“I know you don’t believe it, but I’m good at my job.”
“So you sold John a house?”
“Yeah, the cutest little starter house when he got promoted to store manager.”
They drove down Lindbergh through Kirkwood. Big red lanterns covered each streetlight and swags of greenery trailed down the poles.
Hollie loved it.
Noel just sulked, refusing to let Hollie cheer him up. Refusing to admit his attraction to Hollie.
But Hollie didn’t need anyone to have fun. She could have fun all by herself. She had learned how to growing up alone more or less.
She began singing Madonna’s saucy version of “Santa Baby” as they headed for Garvey’s Restaurant on Telegraph. Their special onion blossom appetizer and an ice-cold St. Louis brewery product would put Noel in a much better mood; she just knew it.
Noel sat across from her feeling like Wile E. Coyote having run off a cliff, his body still in free-fall. Hollie Winslow could make him furious, laugh, shy—she could make him feel. She was a dangerous woman. The sooner he bought a house the better.
He’d only really just met her and he already knew.
He felt sexier all over.
The 6'1 Grinch Page 4
