Home For the Holidays

by Lisa Plumley

  The stocking that bore Reno’s name appeared a little worse for the wear. There was a stiletto-shaped mended spot in the toe. The embroidered part of his name looked ragged, too. All the same, looking at it now gave Reno a warm and fuzzy feeling. He liked it here. He liked it here with Rachel. He liked being part of a family who, whatever their differences, always loved one another…a lot like his family did. Eventually.

  On the other hand, there were a few drawbacks.

  Groaning, Reno clutched his stomach. Technically, his abs still felt as taut to the touch as ever, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d packed on his fake Santa belly for real. “Christine, you’re going to kill me with breakfast! That special holiday French toast…what was in that? It was amazing.”

  “Oh, not much.” Rachel’s mother looked pleased. “A little cream. Some eggs. Nutmeg, of course. Some very good brioche.”

  “That’s it?” If only Nate were here. Nate could probably replicate a recipe like that. But Nate was spending the morning with Angela and Kayla. Reno wouldn’t meet up with them until later, when he and Rachel traveled to his parents’ house for the first (of many) Christmases together. “That sounds easy.”

  “Don’t let her fool you.” With his reading glasses on, Gerry Porter glanced up from the newspaper. He, an intransigent geek, was reading the Kismet Comet in digital form on his PDA, after having given sections of the printed newspaper to Rachel. “She’ll never tell you her secret Christmas French toast recipe. She hooked me with it when we were still dating, and I’ve been trying to finagle it out of her for years.”

  “…a little orange zest,” Christine hinted. “Butter—”

  “I need a pen to write this down.” Maybe Nate could still reconstruct it. Reno glanced around, caught sight of Rachel on the sofa beside him, and forgot what he was doing altogether. Even wearing her fuzzy-hooded sweater and jeans—with no miniskirt and no boots—she still looked drop-dead sexy to him. He was the luckiest man on the planet. Not only had he skipped out on being a punter, he’d scored the best woman around.

  “…and a whole lot of love,” Christine was saying in a dreamy, satisfied voice. “That’s all there is to it, Reno.”

  Reno snapped out of his reverie just in time to see Gerry Porter gawking at his wife. “It’s got what in it? I couldn’t quite make that out, honey. Can you say that again?”

  “Nope.” Going back to her knitting, Christine shook her head. “It was only for Reno. Now that he’s part of the family.”

  “But Reno didn’t even hear you!” Gerry protested. “He was too busy mooning over Rachel to pay attention!”

  “Hmmm.” Christine gave a small smile. “That’s too bad.”

  “Arrgh!” Gerry gave her an aggrieved look. “So close.”

  “And yet so far.” Smiling, Rachel folded back a newspaper page, then held it up to them. “Look. We made the paper!”

  Reno leaned forward. He immediately recognized the photo that accompanied the article in the Community section. It had been taken yesterday, at the annual Glenrosen block party. In it, Reno stood beside Rachel in front of his fully decorated and light-bedecked house and yard, beaming for the camera.

  He looked like a complete goofball. A goofball in love.

  “See?” Rachel waggled the newsprint. “Kismet’s Christmas Couple, the headline says. Isn’t that sweet? It’s all about us. About how we met and how I helped decorate your house.”

  She glanced down to read aloud, but Reno lost track of everything again. Her nose was so cute, her expression so intent, her mouth so luscious as it formed the words.

  He tried to catch a tidbit here and there as Rachel shared the reporter’s version of how Reno had not won the Glenrosen holiday lights competition (that honor had gone to Hal—who, in a controversy, had admitted hiring professionals to set up his display), how the rules for winning the Bronze Extension Cord were being fervently debated, and how Reno Wright—because of his daring and ingenuity—had been awarded a special prize.

  “Ooh! A special prize sounds nice!” Christine enthused.

  “It’s a plaque,” Reno muttered, but he didn’t really mind not winning this year. There was always next year. Besides…

  “…who won an engraved plaque,” Rachel read aloud, “for signifying extraordinary creativity and exemplifying the true meaning of Christmas. Congratulations to Reno Wright!”

  Beaming, she glanced up from the text. A smattering of applause came from Christine and Gerry, then Rachel’s father squinted at the newsprint. “Show us the other photo, honey.”

  “There’s another photo?” Reno didn’t remember posing for another photo. All he remembered was Rachel, hot spiced cider, and not needing the hot spiced cider to make Rachel easy or to make himself look twice as good to her, as he’d described to her from her snowy yard on the day after they’d met. “Really?”

  “Really.” With relish, Rachel turned around the newsprint.

  Right there, below the fold, was…

  “Oh, it’s so sweet!” Christine clasped her hands.

  “It’ll do,” Gerry muttered. But he couldn’t hide a grin.

  “It’s perfect,” Rachel exclaimed.

  Her gaze met his, and Reno had to agree. No matter how surprised he was to see it there in blurry newsprint. No matter how embarrassed a big, tough, former football star like him should have felt to see his rooftop holiday lights display caught on film for everyone in town to see. Especially since, in vertical three-foot letters, painstakingly framed in miniature lights, that display spelled out the absolute truth:

  RENO LOVES RACHEL. FOREVER.

  Across the room, Christine sighed again. “So romantic.”

  “You can blame your daughter,” Reno said. “Rachel helped—”

  Suddenly, his cell phone beeped. Reno frowned at the interruption. He glanced at the text message displayed there. flat tire. need help! Nate.

  Momentarily distracted, Reno fisted his phone. He should help. He should…He should text Nate back right away. call AAA. merry Xmas. Reno.

  Reno put away his phone. “Rachel helped with the display.”

  “I didn’t help do this!” Rachel hugged the newspaper.

  “Yes, you did,” Reno insisted. “When I was on the roof, what did you think you were doing up on that ladder?”

  Rachel peered upward, remembering. “Handing you lights.”

  “Right. Lights to spell out RENO LOVES RACHEL. FOREVER.”

  “No way!” Blushing prettily, Rachel shook her head.

  “Way.” He leaned sideways and kissed her. “The whole world might as well know it. Because it will always be true.”

  “Oh.” Happily, Rachel bumped her knees against his, awkwardly kissing him back. “For me, too. I love you, Reno.”

  “I love you, too. Merry Christmas.”

  “Merry Christmas!”

  They kissed again, surrounded by holiday music and bathed in the Christmas tree’s multicolored sparkling lights.

  Gerry and Christine tactfully went on reading and knitting, but for Reno, there wasn’t anything more important than reveling in his time with Rachel. Openly. Honestly. At least until they both turned into zombies on December 26th.

  Kidding.

  “Hey, you two. Your lips are going to get blistered if you don’t take a break.” Smiling, Christine glanced up. “Is there anything in the newspaper about your new venture, Rachel?”

  With visible reluctance, Rachel disengaged from Reno. Somehow the newspaper had gotten wedged beneath her thigh during all the kissing, but she managed to extract its crumpled pages.

  “Yes, there’s a sidebar: ‘Rachel Porter, former Los Angeles celebrity stylist, is currently offering one-on-one personal shopping expeditions to the people of Kismet and surrounding areas,’” she read. “‘Those services are expected to wane as Porter’s new design venture, Imagination-Squared, gets off the ground early next year. Featuring designer apparel created from deconstructed clothes, Imagination-Squared is—�
��”

  “Does that mean you’ll be ripping apart more clothes?”

  “Yes, Dad.” Smiling patiently, Rachel nodded. “‘—expected to feature exclusive items refashioned from celebrity castoffs, including clothing worn by such stars as Tiana Zane, Cody, and the cast of the hit TV show Sweetwater, to be sold online and in local boutiques.’” She glanced up, clearly energized. “See, I always knew it was a shame that celebrities often wore garments only once, then didn’t want to be seen in them again. This way, all those clothes will be put to good use.”

  “Good idea,” Gerry said. “Recycling. Very hippie-dippy.”

  “Did I tell you?” Rachel went on. “Mimi’s coming to visit after Christmas. We’re going to be partners!” She squeezed Reno’s knee, leaning toward him. “Mimi’s going to love you!”

  “Congratulations.” Rachel’s mother beamed at her. “I always knew you could do it. I’ll be first in line for a sweater.”

  “I think you’ll have to wait.” Reno plucked at the shoulder seams of his new sweater—a Christmas gift from Rachel. He lifted his chin proudly. “I’m pretty sure I got the first one.”

  “You did.” Rachel snuggled up to him. “You’re not going to believe it, but that used to be two vintage sweaters and a pair of boots. I tore them all apart and sewed them together again.”

  Whatever it was, it was all right with Reno. As long as it came from Rachel…and as long as she’d made it with love.

  “What about you, Reno?” Cutting the sentimental aura with a piercing glance, Gerry Porter looked his way.

  “Will you be selling out to Multicorp? Franchising The Wright Stuff?”

  “I’m sure it would be very lucrative,” Christine said.

  But Reno shook his head. “Nah. I turned down Derek’s offer. Franchising wasn’t the answer for me. I like helping people at the store. But I will be keeping Mrs. Kowalczyk on staff. She’s a wonder. And I will be taking some more time off.”

  “Time to spend with me,” Rachel announced. “We’ve already talked about it. After we go back to California to get all my stuff—the things that are really mine at least—Reno and I will have lots to do together. As soon as I tap into my nest egg—”

  “Nest egg?” Her father raised his eyebrows. “That’s not very fashionable is it? I heard practicality was passé.”

  Rachel made a face. “Not with me, Dad. I made a lot of money in my old job, but I saved a lot, too.”

  “See? We raised her right, Gerry,” Christine said.

  “I’ll have to lease a workspace, draw up a business plan, start sourcing materials, hire a Web site designer—”

  Gerry Porter waggled his eyebrows meaningfully.

  “—and that’s just for the wedding planning!” Rachel said.

  Her parents gawked at her. Reno only smiled.

  He didn’t see a problem with getting married. Otherwise he definitely wouldn’t have presented Rachel with that engagement ring last night on Christmas Eve. And she definitely wouldn’t have accepted it, squealing and laughing and crying. At once.

  “So.” He pulled her close, getting in on the action before Rachel could regale everyone with talk of zippers, sergers, antique fabrics, and “foundation garments” (whatever those were). “Rachel, maybe you can finally settle a bet for me.”

  Smiling, Rachel nodded. “I’m sure I can.”

  “Which one’s better?” Reno asked. “An L.A. Christmas or a Kismet Christmas?”

  Interestedly, Gerry and Christine watched them both.

  “Hmm.” Looking adorably perplexed, Rachel gazed up at the ceiling, mulling over his question. “You know, I am a die-hard nouveau California girl. I like sunshine and surfing and seventy-degree weather as much as the next person. So there’s a lot to be said for L.A. But I have to admit,” she added, “when it comes to Christmas—and the company that goes along with it—nothing can beat a Kismet Christmas. It’s the very best Christmas of all.”

  “Mmm.” Reno nodded. “I guess that means I win.”

  Rachel’s answering smile made his heart feel twice as big.

  “Nope. It means we both win.”

  She was right, Reno knew as the televised Yule log burned and the Christmas lights twinkled and the Kismet Comet was passed hand to hand (and then commandeered by Christine for a future scrapbooking project). Because a Kismet Christmas really was the best Christmas of all. Especially when it came wrapped up with a brand-new happily-ever-after for him and Rachel…and the promise of many more just like it still to come.

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for reading Home for the Holidays! I hope you had fun. This can be a crazy time of year, but I absolutely love the holiday season. With Rachel’s and Reno’s story, I tried my best to bring a little of that Christmastime magic to you. As Reno would say, “Ho ho ho!”

  Are you curious about how to make Nate’s can’t-fail fudge? Christine’s top-secret Christmas French toast? As a bonus for you, I’ve posted the recipes for both goodies on my Web site at www.lisaplumley.com. Please stop by and try them! While you’re there, you can also sign up for new-book alerts or my reader newsletter, read sneak previews of upcoming books, request special reader freebies, and more. I hope you’ll visit today.

  In the meantime, I’d love to hear from you! You can send e-mail to lisa@lisaplumley.com, “friend” me on MySpace at www.myspace.com/lisaplumley, or write to me c/o P.O. Box 7105, Chandler, AZ 85246-7105.

  Here’s wishing you the very merriest of Christmases!

  Happy holidays

  Lisa Plumley

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  Copyright © 2008 by Lisa Plumley

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  ISBN: 1-4201-0762-3