Home For the Holidays

by Lisa Plumley

  “Because of me?” She felt (a little bit) delighted.

  “—and if I’m going to have any shot at winning again, I need to get cracking. I…” He hesitated once more. “I don’t think I can do it all by myself and still finish in time.”

  Rachel grinned. “Does this mean I can use your big ladder?”

  “You’ve got a danger fixation.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  “It might be fun to do it together.” Unexpected vulnerability softened Reno’s chiseled, athletic features. “You know, as a team, like when we dug out Mrs. Bender.”

  “I heard you the first time.” She kissed him. “Let’s go.”

  Giving Reno a playful shove, Rachel rolled out from beside him and got off the sleeping bag. She caught him watching her as she stood, bare and freewheeling, to reach for her clothes.

  “If you keep doing that, we’ll never make it,” she said.

  “I was just thinking…if you tell anybody I asked you for help, I’ll permanently boycott that special maneuver you like.”

  “Threats now?” Rachel raised her eyebrow. “Nice try, pal. But I know you like that maneuver as much as I do.”

  “Guilty.” Reno got to his feet to give her another kiss—a deep, slow, thorough kiss that told Rachel she wasn’t the only one who could be set off-kilter by a vulnerable look or a special request. He broke off, eager as a little boy. “You’ll never guess what I have planned for the rooftop display!”

  “Oh yeah? You wanna bet?”

  At her words, that familiar competitive spark flared between them. Rachel felt enlivened by it…connected by it. Reno did, too, if his answering grin was anything to judge by.

  “First one dressed gets to hang the new LED lights.”

  “You’re on!”

  They had never dressed faster—at least not while in each other’s company. Rachel scrambled into her jeans and sweater and boots, doing her best not to be distracted by Reno’s cheating tactics of parading around in all his perfect-rear-view glory while he pretended to search for his pants and flannel shirt.

  A few minutes later…“I win!” they both shouted.

  Rachel looked at Reno. Adorably bundled up, he gazed back at her. And in that instant, as in so many others, she knew the whole truth. As long as she and Reno were together, they both won. That was the sweetest victory of all.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  It snowed the day of Kayla’s Christmas pageant. Big, fluffy flakes drifted down to coat Kismet’s trees and buildings and houses, creating a winter wonderland that was a million times more authentic than anything Rachel had ever created for Alayna at her beachfront house. Despite the extravagant resources she’d had at her disposal then, Rachel figured some things just couldn’t be faked. Like pre–Christmas snowfall. Authentic love. And triple-ply cashmere, knit into a sweater as soft as a dream.

  Hey, a girl had to stay warm somehow.

  Fortunately, the blustery weather didn’t keep away audience members for the Kismet Elementary School holiday pageant that night. When Rachel arrived, shivering with cold but excited, the hallway leading to the school gymnasium was packed with people. In L.A., she’d seen less well-attended nightclub openings.

  Unwinding her scarf, she craned her neck for a glimpse of Reno in his Santa costume but saw only familiar friends and neighbors, all of them eager to witness the holiday spectacle Kayla’s classmates had planned. Evidently, connections ran deep in Kismet. Nobody wanted to miss this annual event.

  Rachel spotted Angela waiting by the gym door. Row upon row of folding chairs and bleachers stood visible in the room behind her as she nervously twisted a program in her hands, gazing out over the noisy crowd. People made their way to their seats, passing by her with nods and smiles and comments, but Angela only fanned herself with her program and kept searching.

  Rachel hurried to her. “Hi! Sorry I’m late.” She hugged her friend. “You look worried. Is Kayla okay? Is she nervous?”

  “No, not a bit nervous! Kayla practiced her part with Nate, so she’s got it down cold.” Laughing, Angela squeezed Rachel’s arm, then leaned in. “I’m the one who’s a wreck. I’m a bona fide stage mother, Rachel! What if I scar Kayla for life somehow?”

  “You won’t. You love her too much for that.”

  “Easy for you to say.”

  “Not really. Love is a new revelation for me. Come on.”

  Beneath Angela’s curious gaze, Rachel led the way into the gym. The whole place buzzed with anticipation and laughter, along with a lineup of parents-turned-amateur photographers and a squeaky rendition of “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town” performed by the Kismet Middle School band. It was, quite possibly, the least sophisticated holiday event Rachel had ever attended.

  She loved it. She loved the kids, dressed in pint-size costumes and waving to their camcorder-wielding parents as they shuffled self-consciously onstage wearing crooked grins. She loved the music, piped out with vigor by the KMS band. She loved the storyline, performed in fits and starts by the adorable first-grade players. She loved Reno, yukking it up as Santa Claus beside Nate the Elf. She loved the curtain calls when the show was over and the whole place exploded into applause.

  There was so much love here, Rachel realized. Nobody was perfect—as evidenced by the little boy portraying a Christmas camel, who’d forgotten his lines and decided to improvise. But nobody minded. Nobody expected flawlessness. Looking around at the whooping, foot-stomping, down-home audience, Rachel realized that as far as she could tell, everyone here just wanted to see their loved ones have their moments in the spotlight. They just wanted a chance to applaud the people they cared about so much.

  Rachel did, too. That was why, when Reno lumbered out in full red-hat-wearing Santa Claus regalia, still playing his part to the utmost ho-ho-ho for the students and parents, she was the most exuberant applauder of all. And that was why, when Reno finally made his fake-bellied way over to her corner of the gym, where Rachel had been noshing on Christmas cookies and punch with the other audience members, she had the courage to do what she should have done from the very start.

  “Reno. You were amazing!” Smiling at him, she touched the red velour arm of his Santa suit, wanting to hold his hand but not prepared to act as a standin for Mrs. Claus just yet. “There’s something I’ve got to tell you. Something about me.”

  “Uh-oh.” Above his snowy faux-whiskers, Reno’s green eyes sparkled. “You have a thing for Santa. I knew it! Kinky.”

  “No, it’s not that.” Although he did look really cute. Maybe because he’d been so darned sweet with all the kids, letting the first-graders and their smaller siblings whisper Christmas wishes in his ear, maul his outfit while climbing on his lap, and douse him with sticky spilled punch. “It’s…something I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while now.”

  With no warning at all, her throat closed up. Feeling a panic to match the sensation, Rachel glanced at the treat she’d been nibbling. She tossed it away. For a moment this vital, she could not be sugar-buzzing on red-and green-iced Christmas cookies.

  “It’s about my life in L.A.,” she began…but couldn’t go on. She shifted in her boots, glancing from one clump of eager audience members to the next, feeling overheated and nervous in the midst of the boisterous crowd. “It’s…well, nobody here in Kismet knows this about me yet, but—”

  “It’s okay.” Reno caught her hand, looking concerned. He angled his body sideways, keeping their conversation private amid the chattering people. “You can tell me anything.”

  Ha. That’s what her dad had said. And her mom, too, several times. Rachel still hadn’t had the strength to admit the truth to either of them. But Reno…well, maybe he would understand.

  Maybe he would still want her…afterward.

  “Okay. I had this big important stylist job in L.A., right? I worked with all kinds of celebrities, from Alayna Panagakos to that big blond rocker who won the last American Idol competition to—well, you name them, I
probably dressed them. I had a big house and a fancy car, and invitations to everything that mattered. I was major in L.A. I mean seriously—nothing opened in town if I wasn’t there for the red carpet. Ask anyone.”

  She glanced at him, feeling her heart pound crazily as she gauged his reaction to her former fabulousness.

  Looking perplexed, Reno nodded. “I know. Nate told me—he Googled you. Ever since you made it big in Hollywood, you’ve been a local legend around here. Kind of like me.”

  Reassuringly, he rubbed her back, probably sensing her anxiety. Smiling at him, praying the good times between them wouldn’t come to an end once Reno realized what a gigantic washed-up failure she was, Rachel sucked in a deep breath.

  She might as well just lay it on the line.

  “Well, now I’m nobody. Most of my clients fired me, and the ones who didn’t have been dodging my phone calls for weeks.”

  There. She’d said it. Feeling weirdly light-headed, Rachel glanced at Reno. He didn’t appear shocked or appalled, so she went on. “Now nobody will hire me. Nobody will take a meeting with me. Nobody will even return my calls! And it’s all because of the stupid lapse of judgment I made when I found my biggest client—Alayna—in bed with my boyfriend.”

  Ooh, you’re a wild one, Pookie. Yeah, oh yeah…

  Shamefaced, Rachel bit her lip. She’d put off this moment for so long. It wasn’t easy confessing that she was both unemployable and unlovable…at least to some people.

  But Reno only stared, then gritted his teeth in a menacing manner that seemed wholly unfit for a jolly guy like Santa Claus. “Your boyfriend? You mean Tyson-Like-The-Chicken?”

  Rachel nodded. “I was hurt! I was upset. That’s my only excuse. I obviously wasn’t thinking straight after I found them together, and I wanted to get back at them both for hurting me. They were really, really mean. That’s why I did…what I did.”

  Reno angled his head in interest—almost in admiration. He didn’t seem the least bit horrified at the prospect of her wanting to exact a little revenge. “What did you do?”

  Could it be possible that Reno didn’t think she was a total loser? Emboldened by his indignation on her behalf and his curiosity, Rachel continued. “I outfitted Alayna and Tyson in a horrible pair of revenge outfits for her big birthday bash.”

  She bit her lip, waiting for Reno’s response.

  Nada. Maybe he didn’t grasp the true awfulness of it.

  “I mean, they were wearing Naugahyde,” she elaborated, wanting to make sure he understood the enormity of her actions. “Lace. Pleather. Man-capris and a bustle. All at the same time!”

  “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

  “It was on TV! And the Internet. And magazines, too. Because of that outfit, people thought Alayna was headed for rehab.”

  “She probably was headed for rehab.”

  “Still.” Rachel bit her lip. She wasn’t exactly proud of this but…“The incident made the CNN crawl. My first time.”

  Reno’s mouth quirked. “Congratulations.”

  “You don’t understand! I’m ruined in L.A. I screwed up in a major way. I’m trying to fix it, but I don’t know if I can. I haven’t so far.” Drawing in another deep breath, Rachel faced him squarely, ready to admit the worst part. “I might,” she said solemnly, “be just a regular woman for the rest of my life.”

  For a minute, the only sounds were conversations nearby, the intermittent tooting of one of the trumpet players showing off his mastery of “Jingle Bells,” and shouting children.

  Then Reno stepped closer, his jawline obscured by his fluffy Santa beard and his forehead covered by his red Santa hat. He cupped her cheek in his hand, then shook his head.

  “You could never be just a regular woman.”

  “I am! It’s already happened!” As proof, Rachel frantically offered up her sleeve. “Look. I wore this for comfort instead of style. Yes, it’s cashmere, but it’s a slippery slope. What if—”

  “You could never be just a regular woman…to me.”

  Hardly daring to breathe, Rachel quit plucking at her sleeve. The soft knit slipped from her fingers as rapidly as her rising hopes soared. Maybe foolishly. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Then you’re not…disappointed?”

  “In you?”

  Wordlessly, Rachel nodded. The people around them were a blur, as inconsequential now as a bikini in December.

  Reno gave her a sturdy look. Even (or especially) dressed as Old Saint Nick, he appeared rock solid. Trustworthy. She knew that whatever he said to her would be absolutely reliable.

  “The only way I could be disappointed in you is if you caved and went back to Tyson-Like-The-Chicken.”

  “Reno! I’m serious.”

  “So am I. I want—”

  “Hey, Santa Claus!” someone shouted from nearby, waving to catch Reno’s attention. “Can we get some pictures over here?”

  Rachel and Reno turned. One of the camera-wielding parents gestured to “Santa,” an entreating grin on his face. He pointed to the children he’d arrayed in a holiday pose. “You game?”

  “Sure.” Glancing back at Rachel, Reno squeezed her hands. He gave her a wink. “Duty calls. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  And he would have been. Except that one photo op turned into two, which morphed into a camcorder vignette. Before long, Rachel’s erstwhile Santa had been fully commandeered for a series of photos, holiday wishes, and jolly conversations.

  Leaving him to it, Rachel gazed around the gym. The PTSO had decorated the place with green and red streamers, with joyful holiday pictures pinned up beside the cartoon posters exhorting kids to exercise and eat enough fruits and vegetables. The basketball hoops contained Christmas balls of plastic holly. It was a very ordinary room, but Kismet had made it special.

  Just like Reno had made her feel special.

  He wasn’t appalled at what she’d done, Rachel realized. Or at what she’d lost. He hadn’t run the other way when she’d admitted the Naugahyde and pleather. He’d heard her confession and then stood by her. To Rachel, that meant the world.

  Especially coming from someone as honest as Reno.

  Feeling lighter than she’d ever imagined—now that she’d unloaded her secret at last—she hugged herself. A grin broke over her face, goofy and relieved. She was helpless to stop it, no matter how ridiculous it made her seem. Reno still cared about her! If that didn’t merit a smile, nothing did.

  A familiar-looking blond man near the refreshments table caught her eye. Still wearing her grin, Rachel headed toward him.

  She touched his arm, then stuck out her hand. “You must be Nate. I think it’s about time we met. I’m Rachel Porter.”

  He turned. “Rachel Porter!” His grin was infectious, his handshake firm and a bit awed. “How did you know it was me?”

  “The other elf was much smaller. You stood out.”

  “Oh that.” Laughing, Nate gestured at his costume. He wiggled the curly toes of his elf shoes, not looking at all like a man who would repeatedly ditch her or their opportunities to meet each other. “You did work on this, didn’t you? Thanks.”

  “Angela’s measurements helped. We kept missing each other.”

  “I know. My bad.” Beneath his green felt hat, Nate’s earnest gaze softened. “Rachel Porter. I can’t believe it.”

  “Did we go to school together? I think I remember you.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to say that.” He blushed, waving off her comment. “I know Reno probably coached you, but it’s okay.”

  “No, I…” Squinting, Rachel recalled a burly student with a penchant for jokes. “Do you still have that Boyz II Men T-shirt? You could probably get a fortune for it on eBay now.”

  Nate shook his head, still seeming fascinated. “Nah. I figure memories ought to stay with their original owners.”

  “A sentimentalist, huh?” Liking him immediately, Rachel noticed a volunteer unwrapping a platter of treats behind him. “Oh look!
Mini pecan tartlets. Would you like one?”

  “Ugh.” He made a face. “You like those?”

  “Yes! They’re my favorite. You don’t?”

  “Can’t stand them.”

  Speculatively, Nate watched as Rachel selected a tart, bit into it, then moaned rapturously.

  He winced, appearing horrified. “That gooey filling is like supersweet boogers studded with nuts. Yuck.”

  “Ha. You’re not scaring me away.” Rachel finished her first tiny tart, then snatched another one. “These are the best.”

  Dubiously, Nate wrinkled his nose. “I can’t believe you like those. You like pecan pie filling, don’t like beer, don’t like pickup trucks, and you serve cold food in December. Plus you like guys with shiny fingernails, and I’m not going there.” He shook his head. “Dude, it’s a good thing Reno’s efforts to fix us up with each other were so sucktastic, right? Because we are clearly not meant for each other.”

  Holding her free hand beneath her chin in an indelicate maneuver designed to catch wayward pecan tart crumbs, Rachel stared at him. Hastily, she chewed and swallowed. “Reno’s what?”

  “You know, his mission to fix us up with each other. On dates. Romantically.” With a suggestive expression, Nate waggled his eyebrows. One of them looked sort of…bald. “That’s why you two have been spending so much time together, right? You don’t have to pretend not to know. He’s been dedicated to it night and day for weeks now. That’s Reno—once he promises to help someone, he’s unstoppable. But now that I’m totally in love with Angela—hey, here she is!—I don’t need Reno’s help anymore.”

  Angela arrived at his side. “Need Reno’s help with what?”

  While Rachel boggled at Nate’s revelation, Angela levered up, kissed her gigantic elf boyfriend, then beamed at him. They looked like a couple all right. A deliriously happy couple. A couple who, if Rachel’s befuddled observations were correct, had just recently made their relationship, um, intimate, and couldn’t quite keep their hands off each other now.

  “Nate was just telling me how Reno has been trying to fix up me and Nate,” Rachel said. “On dates. Romantically.”