Deck the Halls

by Heather MacAllister

  She took a deep breath, conscious that her voice was louder than it needed to be. “And I’ve got my sisters to consider, too. Everything depends on me. My business is seasonal. I’m trying to expand, but for now, I’ve got three income-producing months out of the year. That means one of my working days is worth four of yours. If you can’t accept that, I understand. But if you want to see me, it will have to be on my terms. It’s selfish and I know it. But that’s the way it has to be.”

  The emotional torrent of words ran out about the same time as her breath. She faced him, breathing quickly and waited for him to tell her off, pack up all that lovely food and stalk out of the showroom.

  “Want a hug?” he asked softly, already reaching for her. Holly’s face crumpled as his arms closed around her and held her tightly.

  “Been rough, has it?” One of his hands gently caressed her curls as she rested her head against his shoulder.

  “Yes.”

  “Tell me about it some time?” His voice was gentle.

  “Yes.”

  “Holly?”

  Holly shuddered and lifted her head.

  Adam’s hold relaxed. His fingers tilted her chin until she was forced to look at him. “Have I complained about your work?”

  “No,” she answered honestly.

  “I won’t. You’ve come into my life at a time when I have emotional energy to spare. To give. It won’t always be that way.” He noted the wariness in her eyes and let her study him. “I don’t think you know how to be a taker.”

  He surprised her. “What does that mean?”

  “Just what it sounds like. The world is full of givers and takers. You’ve been a giver for so long; you can’t take without feeling guilty.”

  Holly disentangled her arms from his and ran a shaky hand through her hair. “You sound like a pop psychologist.” She couldn’t believe he was still there. Anyone else would have left long ago. She would have left long ago. Well, she’d warned him. He knew exactly what he would be getting into. Okay. Fine.

  “Thanks for being so understanding.” Holly took a deep breath and smiled. “Now, would you hang that angel?”

  “No.”

  Her smile disappeared and her jaw wore a militant look. One of his dimples appeared. “I’m going,” he said with quiet finality, “to eat my sandwich. Now.”

  Chapter Four

  “WHY CAN’T YOU use a bank like everyone else?” Laurel followed Holly into the large walk-in pantry and watched as her sister sorted foil-wrapped packets.

  “I do. Where do you think I get money? Open the freezer for me, will you?”

  Laurel yanked up the heavy white door. “I was getting lunch out, anyway. Holly,” she began as Holly placed the packets into neatly, but misleadingly, labeled plastic bins. “Don’t you think the money would be safer in a bank?”

  Holly smiled grimly. “I happen to like cold hard cash.”

  “Give me a break.”

  “Shh. I’m counting and my fingers are freezing.”

  “Well, hurry up. I’m hungry.”

  Holly looked pointedly at Laurel’s statuesque curves. “You’re always hungry. Thought about going on a diet?”

  “Cheap and miserly, that’s what you are.”

  “Yeah, but that’s twelve tax packets. We’ve got a roof over our heads until next December, but we can’t eat after April. Although—” Holly studied her sister consideringly—“we could feast well into May if one of us would try to lose a few pounds.”

  “I lost five pounds in October!”

  “We all lost five pounds in October.” Holly moved aside as Laurel reached into the freezer. “What’s for lunch?” Laurel gave her a smug smile. “Alumnae Coffee leftovers again. This will be our third free meal, so no more comments on my appetite.”

  Holly nodded. “Point taken.”

  Laurel dug around in the freezer. “What’s that?” she gestured to a frosty container.

  “Ivy’s college money. If all goes well, she can enroll for the spring semester.”

  “Finally.” Laurel pulled out a bag of frozen sandwiches and meat tarts. “We’ve got to finish the raw veggies today. They’re looking grim.”

  “Make soup.”

  “Out of what?”

  “Don’t we have a can of tuna or something?” Holly glanced at the bare shelves around them.

  “Yuck. I’ll send Ivy to the store.” Laurel slammed the freezer door shut. “Seriously, Holly, I feel nervous having that much cash around.”

  Holly gave her a wry smile. “It isn’t that much. Besides, I’d rather have my assets frozen here than in the bank.”

  “It wouldn’t happen again,” Laurel said quietly.

  Holly turned out the light in the pantry and headed back into the kitchen. “It won’t happen again. Anyway,” she said after spending a few minutes at her ledger, “it cuts out impulse spending. Why do you think I made the American Express card into an ice cube?”

  Laurel muttered something about microwaves as Ivy burst into the kitchen carrying their fur jacket on one arm and the black skirt, which one of the sisters usually wore daily, on the other.

  “I just wanted to let you know I took these out of your closet, Laurel. I’m going to wear them tomorrow.”

  “Sorry. I’m going out to lunch after church.”

  “I’ve been invited to the Cowboys game. On one of my rare outings,” Ivy said with a significant look at Holly. “I ran into a bunch of my friends. They’re home for Christmas break. They’ve got extra tickets, so it won’t cost anything.”

  Holly’s sigh went unheard by either sister. “Maybe you can both wear the outfit. What time is kickoff?”

  “Two. Tony’s picking me up at noon.”

  “Noon!” Laurel glared at Holly. “What are you suggesting, that Ivy just strip me on the church steps?”

  “Please, Laurel?” Ivy looked pleadingly from sister to sister. “Wear the red silk. Holly probably doesn’t need it.”

  “Wear Holly’s camel outfit,” Laurel countered. “It still looks chic.”

  “It looks chic on Holly. It looks dumb on me. The pants are too long and I don’t have the right shoes. At least with the skirt, I can wear my boots. I need the jacket to keep warm.” Ivy hugged the furry softness to her cheek.

  “Huh-uh.”

  “Come on! It’s supposed to be our jacket.” Ivy held it out of Laurel’s reach. “How come I never get to wear it?”

  “But to a football game?” Laurel looked to Holly for support. “She’ll probably spill mustard on it.”

  “Laurel!” Holly blew out her breath. “It’s okay, Ivy. Why don’t you go put everything on and we’ll help you pick your jewelry.”

  Ivy beamed. “Thanks, Holly!”

  “She’ll look like a little kid playing dress-up.” Laurel shoved the cookie sheet with the leftovers into the oven.

  “Laurel, she wants to wear the jacket to impress her friends. You know how they all but dropped her when they went off to college. And they’ll be dressed to the teeth.”

  “That jacket was never meant to be hers,” Laurel said resentfully.

  “There wasn’t any name on the package.” Holly said quietly. “We’ll never know which of us Mom and Dad intended to have it.”

  A howling from deep in the house made Holly roll her eyes. “What now?” she asked herself as it grew louder.

  “It’s not fair! Look what she did!” Ivy began crying with deep anguished sobs as she thumped down the stairs.

  Holly ran to the bottom of the steps. “What’s wrong?”

  “Look!” Ivy pulled at the folds of sweater hanging on her slender frame. “She . . . she stretched all the sweaters!”

  Holly sighed. “That one probably needs to be cleaned, anyway. We’ll h
ave the cleaners block it back into shape,” she said soothingly.

  “But what’ll I wear?” Ivy wailed.

  “You know that new red turtleneck we got on sale? You can be the first one to wear it.”

  “Really? Gosh, thanks, Holly!” Ivy smiled through her tears and whirled back up the stairs.

  Holly felt a gut-wrenching twist of guilt, regret, and a flare of the old anger, which melted into pity. Little Ivy had been hit hardest. Teenagers could be so cruel.

  Holly sat on the bottom step, head on her knees. “Little” Ivy was nineteen. Nineteen and thrilled to be the first to wear a sweater they would all share. How pathetic.

  She sat that way until she heard Gus’s distinctive tapping on the front door.

  “Are those the proofs?” Holly asked when she noticed the brown envelope Gus held.

  “Hello to you, too, pretty lady.” He sniffed. “What do I smell?”

  “Lunch,” answered Holly, resignedly gesturing him in.

  “What? That time already?” Gus exclaimed in mock surprise.

  “As you well know, moocher.”

  Gus eyed her expectantly. “Didn’t Beth Robinson call you?”

  “No, why?” Holly gripped his arm. “Gus, is it the cover?”

  “Sure ’nough. Take a look at these.” He handed her the envelope.

  Holly fumbled with the clasp a fraction of a second before ripping open the flap and drawing out the photographs. “Gus, they’re gorgeous!”

  Gus pointed to the photograph on the top of the stack. “This one is Beth’s choice for the cover. Said she was going to call you for some more information about Deck the Halls.”

  “You sweetie!” Holly restrained her impulse to plant a kiss on his fuzzy cheek and settled for a careful hug.

  “Look here.” Gus took the pictures from her and shuffled through them. “I sold this to your boyfriend’s law firm. Can you believe they were going to go the smoked-turkey route for Christmas? When they saw this, they ordered copies for a bunch of their clients.”

  “They didn’t mention the change in design?”

  “Huh?”

  “Never mind. There’s the bearskin rug.” Holly pointed. “You got the fireplace tools with the logo. Nice touch.”

  “Profitable touch. You ought to get some business from this, too.”

  Holly felt a weight lift from her shoulders. “Gus, dear friend, are you free for lunch? Laurel should have it ready about now.”

  Gus grinned, his teeth showing bright against the unshaven face. “I can work it in.”

  Holly entered the kitchen, more lighthearted than she remembered being in ages. “We’re setting another place, Laurel. A soon-to-be-famous photographer is dining with us.”

  “Such an occasion will necessitate a trip to the freezer.” Laurel raised her eyebrows in a silent question, which Holly answered with a quick affirming nod. “And what’s the occasion?”

  Holly swept her ledgers off the table. “The cover of Town Square magazine! Take a look at these.” She handed the packet to Laurel and went to get the silverware.

  Gus grabbed her elbow. “Holly? You think I could use that set for some more pictures?”

  Holly shrugged. “You’ll have to ask Adam.” She tried to tug her arm away.

  “Hol-ly.” Gus sighed impatiently. “I don’t want to give him a chance to say no. I . . . already signed a contract.”

  “Gus!” She regained possession of her elbow.

  “Oh, come on. You know you can’t get ahead by following rules.” He gave her a disgusted look. “Just let me know when the Yankee’s going to be gone and I’ll pop in then.”

  “I don’t have the key,” Holly pointed out.

  “Get it.” Gus threw out his arms. “You’re palling around with him. Or haven’t things progressed that far?”

  “Holly, weren’t you thinking of asking Adam over for a thank-you dinner?” Laurel inserted smoothly.

  Holly deliberately took a deep breath. “Yes, sometime—”

  “You and Adam would have more privacy at the penthouse and Gus could take his photographs while you’re cooking.”

  “We won’t need—”

  “You could get the key from Adam and have a nice dinner waiting for him. It would leave you plenty of time to chitchat about his . . . briefs, or whatever else was on his mind.” Laurel composedly turned back to the stove.

  Holly ignored Gus’s snicker. She did owe him a favor. He’d suggested her company when Town Square first approached the law firm. His photographs were first-rate and he’d always been willing to give her prints to show prospective clients. Now, thanks to him, one of her designs would be on the cover of the popular city magazine.

  “So-o-o—” she endured the brotherly arm he put around her—“all I want is a little time in an empty apartment. Nothing illegal—I’ll come in the front door and march right by the rent-a-cop downstairs.”

  “Gus,” she sighed, “I don’t want to bother Adam with this.”

  “He doesn’t need to know. You give people too much information and it clutters their mind.”

  “Gus, it isn’t that I don’t appreciate what you’ve done—”

  “I’d be crazy not to stay on the right side of three gorgeous babes.” Gus released her.

  Holly laughed. “You just want to make sure you have someplace to stay when things are a little tight.”

  “Hey, I pay for it in pictures.”

  “Speaking of which, have you got a couple of extras here? That was a new design.”

  His teeth gleamed in a sarcastic smile. “That’s my girl. Always hustling.”

  “I’ve got to, Gus.” Holly flipped through the pictures, selecting the ones for her portfolio.

  “They’re still in the kitchen, I think,” Ivy’s voice called from the hallway. “Hey, look who I found at the front door.”

  Holly looked up as Adam followed her youngest sister into the kitchen. His eyes sought hers immediately and the dimpled grin flashed. Dinner alone with Adam? In the penthouse with the glorious view? Well, she owed him, too, didn’t she?

  “I rang the bell and knocked,” he explained.

  “That’s okay.” Ivy went to investigate the lunch possibilities. “The doorbell doesn’t ring in this part of the house anymore. Next time, come around to the back.”

  “Adam, we were just discussing you,” Laurel announced in her best sultry movie-queen voice, ignoring Holly’s outraged warning glare. “And your marvelous penthouse.”

  Adam’s smile included all of them, but lingered on Holly. “Just temporarily mine, I’m afraid.”

  “Have a seat.” Gus shoved a chair toward him. “And take a look at these.” He snatched the pictures from Holly.

  “We were just having lunch,” she said loudly. “Would you care to join us?”

  “I had no intention of inviting myself,” Adam protested, but not too strongly.

  “That’s okay, we’re used to it.” Ivy set a bowl of fruit on the table and tore off a couple of grapes for herself.

  “Anyway, this guy I know went really wild over the shots,” Gus was saying, and Holly cringed.

  “We’re having a light lunch, Adam, but Holly will make it up to you, won’t you, Holly?” Laurel gave her a sisterly hug and scooted out of the range of Holly’s elbow.

  “Naturally, I planned—”

  “I’d like another crack at it before Holly takes the tree down.” Gus used his earnest voice. “You know . . . to make some pocket money.”

  The best she could hope for, Holly decided, was that Adam wouldn’t think what was turning out to be the world’s most blatant setup was her idea.

  Laurel slipped into Holly’s usual place at the round table, leaving the chair next to Adam vacant. An oblivious I
vy quietly devoured the grapes.

  “Fine with me,” Adam answered as Holly sat down beside him. “What day?”

  “I’m flexible,” Gus shrugged. “Anytime.”

  “How about when Holly fixes you dinner, Adam?” Laurel bypassed Gus and pushed the sandwich plate toward Adam.

  “I haven’t had a chance to discuss it with him.” As Holly spoke, Adam caressed her wrist and laced his fingers through hers. Holly felt an instant jolt that shot up her arm and lodged deep in her stomach. “Yet.” She turned widened eyes to the man beside her. His brilliant blue eyes regarded her steadily.

  “She’d planned to have it at your penthouse,” Laurel prompted, since Holly had apparently lost all power of speech.

  Adam gently squeezed her hand. “What about Wednesday?”

  Holly squeezed back. “Wonderful.”

  IF SHE HADN’T been dreaming about blue eyes and a funny feeling in the pit of her stomach, she wouldn’t be in this mess, Holly thought, as the Wednesday-morning job ran late. And she was having trouble making the simplest decisions, like what to have for The Dinner. Laurel and Ivy had cheerfully donated Monday and Tuesday’s meal money, which made Holly suspicious. Not of Ivy, who was a sweetie, but of the ever-ravenous Laurel, who was not.

  Holly quickly walked into the lobby of the building where her next job was scheduled and headed for the telephones.

  “Laurel, I’m running late. Can you go to the store for me?”

  “Sure.”

  “You’re being awfully nice. Why?”

  “The more time you spend with Adam, the less work I have to do. What are you cooking?”

  “I don’t know,” Holly said irritably. “How about Rock Cornish hens? Get a couple, plus some wild rice—”

  “Feed the man some meat, Holly. Does he look like a wimp to you?”

  A vision of Adam instantly flashed into her mind. She sighed.

  “Right,” Laurel said in her syrupy drawl. “You don’t feed prissy food to a man like Adam. I figured you’d run late, so I already got a couple of steaks and some potatoes.”