A Little Christmas Pretense

by Rachel A Andersen

The jumble of scents that hit Cindy’s olfactory nerve next made her mouth water. Soy sauce, cabbage, pork, rice, garlic... It all smelled fantastic.

  “I wasn’t totally sure if I was hungry when you placed the order,” Cindy said as he walked toward her.

  She sat on the couch with her leg propped up on an ottoman. Richard had been kind enough to place the order for the food while she changed into a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt she’d gotten for Christmas last year that said Dear Santa, It’s a long story...

  She was much happier to be in this ensemble than in her ripped slacks, sweater, and the single heeled boot she’d worn on her uninjured foot to protect against the cold.

  “And now?” He set the bag down on the coffee table to the side.

  “And now, I think you made a wise decision ordering Chinese.”

  He grinned. “People keep underestimating my brilliance!”

  “Never again,” she said with mock seriousness. “I solemnly swear—”

  “That you are up to no good, I know,” he said with a laugh.

  She grinned, pleased that he had made reference to the book she’d been reading when they first met.

  “How’s that going, by the way?”

  He pulled out each of the containers of food from the bag. Luckily, the Chinese place had delivered their food in plates rather than containers. Cindy wouldn’t have to deal with the humiliation of letting Richard see her kitchen which had not been expecting visitors.

  She shrugged. “Well, it’s been a bit busy at work as you know. I haven’t really gotten more than an hour or two after work to be able to try and keep reading.”

  He handed her a plate of food and a plastic utensil set. “That’s a shame. It seemed that was an important family tradition to you.”

  Tears burned her eyes, and she was grateful that Richard was too distracted by his own plate to notice. “It is. My dad read them to me every Christmas.”

  He looked up at her as he settled into the couch so he could get a better view of her as they ate. “You haven’t mentioned him yet. Tell me about him.”

  “He died. Lung cancer. Almost four years ago.” She spoke in phrases, afraid that more than that would trigger a more serious eruption of emotion.

  Richard offered her a look that told her just how sorry he was to hear it before he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and let her snuggle in close to him, close enough to catch the spicy scent of his aftershave.

  Funny how she felt so safe and warm and loved in the arms of this man, who only a few days ago had been a complete stranger. It felt so much longer ago though, she had to admit. So much had happened in so short a time, so many things that had pulled them ever closer together.

  “So, your family reads Harry Potter together to try and feel close to him. I think that’s a really nice tradition.”

  She looked up and offered him a wobbly smile in gratitude.

  Only then did she realize that he, who had undoubtedly been as hungry as she was if not more after carrying her up the stairs, had set his plate aside so that he could offer her the comfort she so needed in that moment.

  “You kinda remind me of my dad a little.”

  The corner of his smile lifted in pride, and she warmed to it. He’d taken it as the compliment it had been intended to be. “Oh really?”

  “Yeah,” she said with a nod. “My dad was always looking for ways to help other people. He never complained if one of us kids got sick when he and Mom were going out for their anniversary, and their plans had to be canceled. In fact, when that happened, he usually would send Mom out with her sisters so she could have a break, and he’d stay with us.”

  “He sounds like he was a good man.”

  The statement was simple, but it resonated with her deeply. “Oh, he was.”

  Richard’s eyes grew troubled as he looked down at her. “How would your dad feel about everything going on at work?”

  She sighed as she carefully rolled one of the lettuce rolls on her plate. “I know what my mom would say about it. She often gives me her opinion about what I should do.”

  She took a bite of the food, chewed, and swallowed it before she continued. “But my dad? I don’t know.”

  Richard was quiet, giving her the needed time and space to think and speak.

  “My dad was the kind of guy who had his own opinions about what you should do, but he never said them outright. He’d say something like, “you seem tired,” if he thought that you were pushing yourself too far, but he would wait for you to see it or to ask him what he thought.”

  Richard picked at his food, and Cindy bit her cheek as she studied him. Though the evening had started out at the offices of their mutual employer, she had hoped that they wouldn’t have to discuss the work tonight. “What about you? What do you think your dad would say about Fortescue Publishing?”

  He heaved a sigh. “Unlike you, I could actually still ask mine.”

  Then, he turned his attention back to his food. “But honestly, I don’t know what he would say. I’d like to think he’d be surprised by some of the things I’ve seen, but I don’t know if he would be.”

  Cindy put her hand on his arm, and he looked up almost surprised by the gesture. “It’s the not-knowing that makes it worse.”

  He nodded slowly. Then, he smiled at her. “So, I have audiobooks of the entire Harry Potter series.”

  She looked up at him, confused by the turn of the conversation.

  “Would you share this part of your Christmas tradition with me?”

  She beamed. “Only if you turn off the overhead lights, turn on the lamp in the corner and let us enjoy the lights on the Christmas tree.”

  When he lifted a questioning eyebrow, she shrugged. “It’s the way I used to read it with my dad.”

  He nodded as he stood and set the lighting as she’d requested. As he did so, she turned to her dinner and took a few more bites.

  As he swallowed, he pulled out his cell phone. “Do you happen to have a Bluetooth speaker?”

  She nodded and pointed to the bookshelf across from her. “Second shelf.”

  “Found it.” He took three swift steps that direction and turned the device on.

  In no time, Cindy sat and enjoyed the narrator’s voice as the story she’d read so often came to life for her again.

  Somewhere in the words, she found herself leaning naturally against Richard’s chest with his ear resting against the top of her head. Their plates, still unfinished, had been put back on the coffee table.

  Cindy couldn’t ever remember feeling happier.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “Jingle bells! Jingle bells! Jingle all the way!”

  Cindy pried one eye open as she heard the alarm from the clock radio in her bedroom. She reached over to swat the snooze button only to find a warm body beside her.

  Surprise encouraged her second eye to open, and she found herself snuggled up with Richard Prince on her couch.

  A chuckle escaped her lips as she realized they must have fallen asleep to the sound of the book. It was only logical, of course, since they hadn’t even gotten out of the emergency room until after ten.

  The song continued to blare from the bedroom, and Cindy looked around for her crutches. Her pain medication had worn off over the course of the night, and she was feeling her broken ankle more than she’d hoped. Unfortunately, the crutches were out of reach, and Richard’s arms were wrapped tightly around her.

  She’d have to wake him.

  “Richard?” she whispered.

  She brushed one of the locks of hair from his face. It felt too intimate for their budding friendship.

  “Hmm?” She bit back a smile as she realized that the sound had been more of a grunt and less of an admission of wakefulness.

  She kissed his cheek. “Richard,” she whispered again. “It’s time to wake up.”

  His hold on her tightened protectively. “Do we have to?”

  She didn’t fight too hard to get out of his embrace. I
t was a good way to wake up, feeling so cared for and watched over. “I have to go in so I can make sure everything’s ready for the Christmas party tonight.”

  His eyes fluttered open. “Christmas party?”

  She nodded. “It’s tonight.”

  He groaned and sat up as he rubbed his eyes with his fingers.

  If she didn’t know any better, she’d think that the idea of the party stressed him out. But she was the one who was liaising with the caterers and party planners. What did he have to do except show up?

  She didn’t say it. Maybe Mr. Fortescue’s decisions hadn’t been made yet. Maybe they weighed more heavily on Richard because they were more of a team than she and Margaret were.

  “Headache?” she asked instead.

  He nodded as he leaned forward and let his head rest in his hands.

  She rubbed his back to try and comfort him. “There’s Tylenol in the bathroom.”

  He stood. “That’s a good idea.”

  “Mind bringing the bottle in here?” she called after him.

  He turned back to her, confused, before he saw her foot. Then, understanding dawned in his eyes. “Yeah. I’ll bring it over in just a minute.”

  He closed the door to the bathroom for a moment, and she wondered if she could hear him muttering to himself. Then, he opened it, the desired medication in his hand.

  “Sorry. I have a mantra I repeat every morning when I have stress.”

  She opened the bottle and proceeded to take out the appropriate dosage. “No problem.”

  “Let me get you water,” he said as he ducked into her kitchen.

  She grimaced as she remembered the unwashed dishes she hadn’t tended the night before.

  He was kind enough not to comment, just filled her glass and returned it a few moments later. “Breakfast?”

  She shook her head. “None for me. I have to get Margaret’s coffee.”

  “She can get her own coffee today,” he said with a look of irritation. “You just broke your ankle doing her bidding last night.”

  His angry eyes found hers, but they didn’t soften for her. “Don’t you think enough is enough?”

  She swallowed down her hurt at his tone. Was he angry with her or was he angry with Margaret? She couldn’t quite tell. “I know you don’t understand why I still work with her. And maybe I shouldn’t, but one of the reasons I’m still there is because I know how to get her coffee. Maybe she complains, but I know how to get it just right. And when it’s just right, there’s a chance—maybe a small one—that she doesn’t take it out on anyone else.”

  The truthfulness of her words hit her more than she’d ever admitted to herself.

  Richard just blinked at her as if he hadn’t expected an answer other than some excuse for why it was better to work for the devil-she-knew than to try and find another job.

  Cindy’s hands shook as she tried to stand. “Let me tackle the dishes first, and then I’ll get you some breakfast.”

  “I can worry about my own breakfast later.”

  Richard’s eyes softened as if the hard shell that had emerged to protect his heart had been penetrated and conquered, and he took two long strides toward her before he gently sat her back down. He kissed the top of her head, lingering for a moment as his fingers squeezed her shoulder.

  “Maybe it’s time to let them see her for who she is,” he said softly. “Maybe it’s time to stop protecting her.”

  Cindy blinked back tears.

  Richard took her hand in his. “You’re not alone anymore. I know what she’s put you through. What do you say we protect you the way you’ve tried to protect everyone else?”

  Her lower lip trembled with emotion before she bobbed her head once.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The day passed quickly with Cindy at the hotel ballroom where the company Christmas party would be held. Under her watchful eye, a dozen Christmas trees were erected and decorated. Strings of white Christmas lights were strung expertly around the room to give the impression of a starry night as hotel staff dimmed the lights.

  This was her pride and joy, planning this event each year. She had it nearly down to perfection with only a few minor kinks which she had been able to guide the caterers through.

  Finally, it was time to allow Gillian to take her into one of the bathrooms to help her change, do her makeup, and get her hair done.

  “Have you seen Richard Prince today?” Gillian asked as she curled one of Cindy’s strands of hair.

  Cindy shook her head. “No.”

  Her cheeks flushed as she remembered how they’d awoken together on her couch, snuggled in close to one another as if they’d lain there many winter nights. Ted had picked them up, but instead of dropping them both off at the office, he’d dropped Richard off at the hotel so he could change and taken Cindy to the hotel where she would do her work. She hadn’t seen him since.

  “Why?”

  As she released the curl to lay against Cindy’s shoulder, Gillian said, “You’ve just seen a lot of him lately.”

  Cindy bit her lip. Immediately, she regretted her insinuations that Gillian might be nursing stronger feelings for Mr. Fortescue than were appropriate. “Yes, I have.”

  “Well, I guess I was just wondering what was keeping him since I was up at the office until almost nine to get his office finished, and he didn’t even come to take a look.”

  Gillian’s voice was matter-of-fact. “Margaret was livid. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so angry.”

  Cindy’s eyes widened. Don’t protect her, she had to remind herself.

  “She was angry because Richard wasn’t there to see the office?”

  Gillian nodded. She leaned in as if sharing a secret. “Frankly, I think she was none-too-happy that the task had gotten finished in the first place. I think she would have been pleased as punch if the office was in the same state of disarray as it was after your accident.”

  Cindy grimaced and looked down at her foot which had been propped up on an extension she’d never realized was part of a manual wheelchair. Still, with all of the activity of the day, her foot was throbbing terribly.

  “There were whispers wondering if you and Richard had tried to hide after your argument in the break room. Are you okay?”

  Cindy had hardly remembered the argument in the break room, but having Gillian ask about it brought it back up to the forefront of her memory. “Yes, but I’d rather not have another day like yesterday for a few years.”

  Gillian managed a thin smile of understanding as she continued her work.

  Cindy caught her friend by the arm so that she’d have to look at her. “Thanks for picking up the slack.”

  “It’s going on my tab.”

  Gillian released the last strand of hair from the curling iron and smiled at Cindy through the mirror. “What do you think?”

  “I think Cinderella’s fairy godmother couldn’t have done a better job.”

  Her curls bounced lightly across her shoulders, and her makeup helped to accentuate the brightness of her blue eyes, her long, dark eyelashes, and the prominence of her cheekbones.

  “Good. You look beautiful.”

  Cindy ran her fingers along the teal satin gown which Gillian had helped her to change into. It hugged her curves in all the right places, and she had to admit just how beautiful she felt in it. “Thank you.” She glanced down at her feet with a look of chagrin. “The boot kind of takes away from the splendor a bit. I wish I could have two matching shoes.”

  She’d found the perfect pair of heels which had accentuated her outfit, and she was a little more than put out that she wasn’t able to use them as she’d intended.

  Gillian chuckled. “Another time. I’m sure you’ll get a chance to wear the outfit you wanted another time.”

  Laughter twinkled in her eye. “At least if Richard Prince has anything to say about it.”

  Cindy felt blood rush to her cheeks. “Is that what you think? That Richard and I—”

 
“He’s spent the whole time he’s been here practically glued to your side,” Gillian said with an approving smile. “And I’ve never seen you quite so, well, quite so you before.”

  “What?” Cindy asked, puzzled.

  Gillian smiled with a healthy dose of patience. “It’s something my parents told me when I started going on dates—that you’ve got a good partner if you’re more you than you ever were before.”

  “And how do you know that?” Cindy asked, though she had a feeling that she knew what they meant.

  “Well, if someone’s with a good partner, then they’re happier, more content to be themselves. I mean, I haven’t found that yet, so it’s more hypothetical for me.”

  Cindy thought back to her time with Richard. He encouraged her to be herself more than even her mother had, and she’d responded willingly. He respected her opinions, even if he didn’t understand or reciprocate them, and he was always willing to apologize when he felt he had represented his feelings for her poorly.

  “I don’t know how long he’s here for.” Cindy’s heart pounded in anticipation. The party was going to begin in just a few minutes, and that meant that Richard would be there as well.

  “It’s longer than just three days,” Gillian said as she started cleaning up the makeup and hair tools she’d used to help Cindy transform from her grungy party prep clothes to the princess she felt she appeared to be. “That’s a start.”

  Cindy nodded. It had felt so comfortable last night even as they entered the Emergency room for her ankle. She’d always been nervous about having a near-stranger transport her to a doctor but it had felt so natural, and Richard had been so solicitous and gentle.

  If Richard were to spend even just a little more time with her outside of work, she had a strong feeling that she’d move easily from strongly liking and appreciating the man as she did now to full-blown loving him.

  She was grateful when an alarm on her phone went off and alerted her to the time. “Show time.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Cindy had to catch her breath as she wheeled herself from the bathroom to the ballroom. It was even more beautiful than she’d hoped with the lights sparkling against the backdrop of the hotel’s expertly decorated ballroom. The tables for the dinner were carefully set with crisp, white napkins and gleaming place settings.