by B. E. Baker
I stop on the top step and stomp my foot. “No. Do you hear me? Holly has been embarrassed enough lately.”
“How?” Cole asks. “You’ve got to be kidding me right? It’s been one long reel of ‘Holly’s life is perfect’ for months on end. I think James would enjoy seeing the whole thing, up to and including the close ups of that zit on your chin.”
“Sometimes I hate you,” I say to Cole.
“And sometimes you can barely breathe, you love me so much.”
Brothers. It’s times like this I miss Noel the most. I greet Mom and Dad, who really are delighted to see me. “I tried to come earlier,” I admit.
“Why didn’t you?” Mom asks.
“I couldn’t find an earlier flight.”
“You should have texted me,” James says. “My jet’s in New York right now. I could have sent it over for you.”
I tilt my head. “Why isn’t it here?”
“Cooper had a last minute meeting, and I won’t need it for a few days,” James says.
A few days? I want to drag him back to my room and interrogate him. It won’t take a few days to snip a red ribbon and collect my signature.
“But right now you’re exhausted,” James says. “You should take a nap.”
“At least we have you to help with the last check-through at the Workshop,” Mom says.
James grins. “True. Cole and I were just headed that way.”
“Be back by five,” Mom says. “Carp, potatoes, cucumber salad, and nice fluffy rolls will be ready, and no one wants cold carp.”
“Fluffy rolls?” I rub my bleary eyes. “Since when?”
“We asked James what his favorite Christmas food is,” Dad says. “He told us he loves bread, all kinds of bread.”
“Apparently he doesn’t eat much bread, in favor of loads of meat,” Cole says. “Which explains his disgustingly large muscles. But he indulges at Christmas.”
James shrugs. “It’s the one day I don’t keep track.” He glances up the stairs. “But go get a nap. Dinner will be here before you know it.”
So I walk up to my room in the middle of some kind of Twilight Zone scene. My parents walk back toward the garage, chatting with my husband in English. I don’t think I’ll be able to nap, trying to puzzle out exactly what’s going on, but I do. The second my head hits the pillow I fall asleep.
I dream I’m Cinderella, and James is the prince.
When I wake up, I smell the carp and the rolls. I change into my nicest black pants, a red silk top, and my favorite tall black boots. Then I grab my long, emerald green coat with fur trim around the hood, and I jog downstairs.
“Mom, that smells great.”
“Hilga and Franz outdid themselves,” she says. “And she made cinnamon rolls for us to bake tomorrow, too.”
“She won’t be here?” James asks.
“We always give the staff two full days off at the holidays,” Dad says. “But don’t worry. They make sure we can survive on our own.”
James meets my eyes and lifts one eyebrow.
It’s ridiculous, I know. Adults who are so dependent on servants that they need someone to prepare everything for the next two days so they can survive it alone. But somehow, it doesn’t feel like he’s making fun of them. It’s like he’s in on the joke with me. And unlike America, nothing here will be open for the next two days. Without some kind of food prepared and on hand, we really might starve.
Dinner passes quickly, with my parents trying to keep the conversation in English. Mostly. Even in German, James keeps up fairly well.
“Your German is decent,” I say.
He blushes. “I’ve been studying a little.”
That gives me hope too. “Oh.”
“That’s good to hear,” Cole says. “Because Drei Haselnüsse für Aschenbrödel has subtitles, but they’re annoying.”
“Don’t turn them on for me,” James says. “I could use the practice.”
“We don’t need to watch that,” I say. “I haven’t seen it in years.”
“I’ve been looking forward to it.” James is clearly suppressing a smile. “Cole told me you were obsessed with it as a kid.”
How humiliating. Three Hazelnuts for Cinderella is a classic movie around Christmas in Germany, and obviously in Liechtenstein too, but I doubt James will be too impressed. “Have you seen Cinderella?” I ask.
He bobs his head. “Gigi, remember?”
Right. “Well, it’s basically a lousy version of that with a Christmas twist.”
Which immediately sparks a flood of argument from my parents. “Fine,” I finally say. “We can watch it. Sheesh.”
James only laughs a handful of times, which is charitable. It’s even worse than I remembered. But thankfully, Mom doesn’t bust out any old home videos.
“We need to get over to the Workshop,” I say.
“Yes, we do,” Dad says. “We should all get our coats.”
I already have mine. So when everyone else disappears, I stand alone for a moment. I close my eyes and screw up my courage. I need to just ask him whether he’s here to bring me papers, or whether he came for any other reason. I square my shoulders and straighten my spine and march toward the entry way. He’s already waiting there, and I’m struck anew with his square jaw, his hawkish nose, the intelligence of his eyes, and the confidence in every line of his body. He effortlessly manages his life, and it hits me like a two-by-four to the nose.
I’m not good enough for him.
I’m a secretary, a runaway, a coward. But I need to know why he’s here all the same. “James,” I say.
“Paisley,” he says, his voice low, urgent. “We need to talk. I know that, but I don’t want to cause any problems, not tonight. Your family is so delighted that you’re here. You have no idea how much they’ve missed you. Can you trust me enough to stick a pin in this conversation for one night? We will talk the second we get back, I promise.”
I gulp. I’m not sure whether I just got a reprieve or not. “Uh, okay.”
James puts an arm around me, and I lean my head against his shoulder.
“Calling all lovebirds,” Mom says.
I really hope that’s us.
22
James
In thirty-five years, it never occurred to me that I might be sitting next to Santa’s daughter, in a delivery truck, on Christmas Eve. Although technically, I think it’s now the early morning hours of Christmas Day.
And yet, here I am.
“This is a little surreal,” I say.
Paisley hands me a box full of gifts. “My back hurts. Maybe a little less wonder and a little more hustle.”
The ELF behind me laughs. “Er ist süß.”
“I thought Ben spoke English.” I glance over my shoulder at Ben, who’s grinning a little too wide.
“He does,” Paisley says.
“What does that mean, what he said?” I ask. “I couldn’t quite catch it.”
She hops out of the truck, and I’m stuck chasing after her. I have no idea how she can always spot the wood pile so easily while I’m scrambling around in the dark like an ox. Every time I trip over a shovel or a stick, she shoots me a half smile, which is nice, but I’m always nervous I’ll make too much noise and wake someone up.
“Hey,” I say. “Wait up. And tell me what that means.”
She turns around slowly and pokes my arm. “Ben thinks you’re sweet.”
I splutter. “I’m not sweet.”
She shrugs. “Maybe a little bit, for helping us, and for being so excited.”
“What I want to know is what I have to do to get one of those coats he has.”
Paisley giggles. “The ELF coat?”
Ben and most of the other elves have dark green coats with gold trim that are both nicely made and look warm. Plus, they’re downright festive. “Right.”
“You get that once you’ve been employed at the Workshop for ten years.”
“Oh man, I won’t get one for nine more years?”
Paisley freezes, her face wary. Then she turns and leaps forward, like a startled deer. Perfect.
“Is there a light in that window?” I peer nervously.
“Probably.”
“Does that mean they’re awake?” I try to hunch down behind the icy hedge.
She laughs. “It’s almost four a.m. There’s no way they’re still awake. I was much more nervous at eleven-thirty.”
“Phew.”
Paisley helps me arrange the presents artfully and then she scampers back to the truck before I have time to even touch her face, or snap a single photo.
I’ve been taking too many photos, probably. But it’s my first time doing this, and I want to remember it. Especially if I’m wrong about this and it goes badly. I really hope that doesn’t happen, but I’ll want pictures to scroll through while I binge Netflix and gorge on ice cream and try to forget I’m dead inside.
We make a few dozen more deliveries before the first rays of the sun appear on the horizon. Paisley yawns for the fiftieth time. “Okay. Last one,” Ben says.
“Good thing,” I say. “Or they’ll catch us while they’re eating breakfast.”
He laughs. “Yes, once the sun comes up, the children will begin to scamper outside, but this last delivery is an older woman. Maybe we deliver to her front porch.”
Paisley hands me a small box, and we trudge through deep snow to her front porch. She left a tin of cookies on the porch, like many of the other homes. I can’t eat another bite, or I’ll pop. “Shortbread?”
Pais shakes her head. “I can’t. Not another crumb.” While Paisley begins arranging the gifts, I grab the shovel on her porch and begin to shovel the front walk.
“We don’t have time for that,” she says.
I meet her gaze. “She won’t be up too early. And we can’t leave her porch like this. No respectable elf would.”
I have no idea what Irma looks like, but I imagine her looking like my Gigi, and I’m not leaving until she can walk to the road without falling. Paisley snags a cookie and crumbles it up, scattering crumbs into the snow pile so it looks like we ate one.
Then we finally walk to the truck. “I’m a little sad when it’s over,” she says softly. “Every year.”
“Did you miss this while you were in Atlanta?”
“I missed it so badly the first year that I almost went home,” she says. “But that’s the year I heard of Sub-for-Santa.”
“That’s the charity Mary runs?” I ask.
Paisley grunts. “It’s an awesome program, geared toward providing Christmas for kids whose parents can’t or won’t. But there’s something neat about giving something to every single person.” She climbs into the truck. “The money goes further when you’re selective, and helping with that filled the hole, you know?” She grabs the list off the truck and checks off the last name.
“Back to the Workshop?” Ben asks. “Or should I drop you at Vaduz Castle?”
Paisley yawns again, and I can’t help following suit.
“Do you mind?” Paisley asks.
He shakes his head. “Not at all, Princess Holly. I’d be honored to take you home.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“I’m impressed that you came tonight after flying so far to reach us.” When he drops us off, Ben hugs Paisley. “It makes me happy to see you here.”
She smiles back. “Me too.”
“I hope you will come back soon.”
She bobs her head. “I’ll try.”
“She’ll be here more often,” I say. “She can use my jet whenever she wants it.”
Ben beams at me. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mister James.”
I wave bye as he drives off into the rising sunlight.
Paisley bumps into me and I drape my arm around her comfortably. “Are you so tired you need to drop right into bed?”
Her eyes drift closed, and she leans against my shoulder.
“Because I have something to show you,” I say. “But it can totally wait.”
She turns drowsy eyes in my direction. “I can make it a few more minutes, but I really hope it’s nothing big. I didn’t realize you’d be here, so I didn’t bring anything for you at all.”
“It’s not a big thing,” I say. “But I thought it would be nice, after all those woodpile drop offs, for me to give it to you in front of a big fire.”
“The servants are all gone by now,” she says. “But we can bring in some logs.”
“I don’t mind. Do you?” I ask.
She shrugs. “No, but our wood pile is kind of a hike.”
“That’s okay,” I say. “If you know how to get there, I mean. I haven’t spent enough time here to even keep straight which door opens into my room yet.”
“Where did they put you?” she asks.
“Uh.” I clear my throat. “So, your mom kind of just assumed.”
“Assumed what?” she asks.
“We’re married,” I say. “So…”
“You’re in my room?” Her eyebrows rise. “Of course you are. Duh. I was so tired I didn’t even notice your suitcase.”
“About all of that,” I say. “I know you’re tired, but I had something to tell you.”
She stumbles a bit on the path we’re taking around the corner of the castle to the woodpile. “Right now?”
“Huh?”
She stops and looks up at me, her eyes like the startled deer again. “Here? Outside? You want to talk about this now?”
“I guess I do,” I say.
She looks at her feet. “You brought the papers?”
“Huh?”
When she looks up at me, her eyes are brimming with tears. “Did you come out here so I would sign the annulment papers? Because you could have emailed them. I wouldn’t have been a pain about it.”
I might have dramatically miscalculated this whole thing. I really hope I didn’t. “Uh, no. I didn’t bring papers of any kind.”
“Okay,” she says. “Then what did you want to say?” She shivers and rubs her hands up and down her arms.
“I know it’s cold, and it’s late, and you’re tired, so I’ll be quick. But I need to tell you something, something huge.” Now it comes to it, I’m terrified. My brain blanks, and my mouth stops working. Normally I’d be making a joke right now. Maybe I should just confess that. “I’m not the kind of guy who marries the princess.”
“I get it,” she says. “And that’s okay, right? I mean, this was an arrangement, and you more than upheld your bargain with the hospital for Noel. I didn’t expect anything like that, but I totally get that you’re ready for this to be over and you—”
“No,” I say. “You don’t get it, not at all. What I want to say is that—” My tongue sticks to the top of my mouth. My hands start to sweat inside my gloves. I’m shaking, and I’m sweaty, and that means I will just have to spit it out. She could completely shut me down, but at least I’ll know. “Paisley, I know we had a few false starts, but I love you.”
“You. . .” She swallows.
“I love your hair. And your eyes. And your face. And the way you look down when you’re nervous or you don’t know what to say. I love how you wear bright colors. I love that you love your job. I love that instead of curling up and dying right alongside your brother, you moved and survived in a totally different world. You learned to do your own laundry, and you learned useful skills, and you made the life of every single person around you better while you learned to live in a world without him.”
“I—”
“I love that you always have something to say,” I interrupt. “But I’m not quite done yet, and this is hard for me. So if you’ll bear with me for a second, I’m nearly there.”
“Okay.” Her eyes are round and shining, and I wonder if they’re full of frustration or welling with tears.
“The thing is, growing up, my family was big on grand gestures. My dad proposed to my mom by paying the Boston Symphony Orchestra to do a private performance,
and then renting the Hope diamond for the night from the Smithsonian to tell her she was precious to him. Of course, he never paid attention to a word she said on an average day, and she didn’t really mind. They were both rubbish at the business of loving someone in real life.”
“That’s crazy,” she says.
“Tell me about it,” I say. “But the one person in my life who never made any grand gestures at all was my grandmother, Gigi. She didn’t have the means or the temperament for grand anything, but she was there. Always. She showed me with her time, her consistency, that I mattered to her, that she would do anything for me, because she did everything for me.”
“But the hospital,” I say.
“I think there’s value to showing someone, in a large way, that you care about them. That hospital I’ve begun here was to show you how I feel, and I had the means to do it. In fact, I meant to finance it all myself, but I managed to convince my dad to pay for it instead. Which means, just like we agreed, you married me, and you got the money for that hospital from Grandfather’s trust.”
“I’m not sure I understand.” Paisley wrings her hands and my heart twists right along with them. She wipes away a tear, and I hope. I hope she’s happy-crying, not upset.
“I am terrible at this,” I say. “But what I’m trying to say is that, there’s value to grand gestures, but there’s more value in the consistency of the day-to-day. That’s why I flew out here, and that’s why I’ll move to Atlanta, or Vaduz, or Spain, or Japan. Wherever you want to live, I’ll live there too. If you want to split time, I’ll split time. My people will come to me, but I will be there for the things that matter to you, always, because I love all of you, Holly Paisley von und zu Liechtenstein, Hereditary Princess of Liechtenstein, and I’ve known that I loved you ever since you showed up at my apartment in New York and proposed. That was the single happiest moment of my life. But I’ve never known a lot of joy, and it took me a while to recognize it, much less express that to you.”
“Well, you’re slow then,” she says. “Because I’ve loved you ever since you said I could buy out all of Nordstrom’s shoe department and you wouldn’t care.”
