Holly’s eyes flashed. “I don’t want to be helpless anymore. I don’t want to be helpless ever again.” Her eyes burned, but she was an expert at fighting off tears.
“Hey!” Laurel exclaimed. “Now Adam, honey, Holly can be a—” Laurel hesitated, obviously bypassing the first word that came to mind—“slave driver, but you have no idea what she went through.”
Holly’s eyes widened at Laurel’s unexpected defense.
“In the first place, she was just out of school with a brand-new shiny business degree and no job. She couldn’t even look for one, because she ended up spending all her time with lawyers. I was still in college, Ivy was in high school and the bottom had fallen out of the price of oil. Even if Dad hadn’t died, the company might have gone bust. Holly fought. Hard. But against those oilmen and their lawyers . . .” Laurel shook her head.
“They auctioned off everything. You know that Texas lets you keep your house, but you saw the rooms when you stayed last night.” Laurel’s expression dared him to comment.
“No furniture.” Adam’s voice was clipped.
“No food, either, for a while,” Ivy added.
Adam threw her a startled glance, seeing her words confirmed in the faces of the other two.
Holly shrugged. “They froze the assets. I just didn’t know how . . .” She splayed her hands expressively.
“But your lawyer should have seen to that!” Adam protested even as he remembered with sickening clarity Mr. Steele’s refusal to help her. “You aren’t supposed to starve!”
“We shopped for food in a certain department store’s gourmet section, Adam. They very kindly issued us a brand-new credit card and never bothered to bill us.” Holly’s chin tilted.
“It was kind of fun, though, charging all that ritzy food. Now that we can pay for it, we can’t afford it.” Ivy laughed, and it broke the tension.
“I paid them back—every penny,” Holly said.
“You would.” Adam forced himself to smile. “I didn’t know all the details of what happened. Now I understand why you so badly want to succeed—just don’t overdo it, okay?”
Holly smiled back. “Okay.”
“Well, now that you’ve finished your little spat,” drawled Laurel, “let’s make cookies.”
“I miss making these for the hospital,” Ivy said, a complete football game later.
“I think I’ve got a real artistic flair for sugar cookies.” Adam gestured to his precisely decorated creations.
“It’s peaceful sitting here doing this. You don’t have to think.” Holly looked around the kitchen, absorbing the warmth and inhaling the smell of vanilla.
“Cheap therapy.” Laurel licked icing off her fingers. “Any more rejects?”
“Laurel!” Three voices protested in unison and dissolved into laughter.
“Holly, why can’t we decorate the children’s wing this year?” Ivy glanced at her sister as she reached for the icing.
Adam observed Holly’s expression, choosing to remain silent. There was the guilt again. It was never far below the surface. Holly tried to do everything and if she achieved anything less than perfection, she felt she had failed.
“I left fliers at the hospital, Ivy.” Laurel brought another rack of cookies to be decorated.
“No, I mean the way we did when Mom and Dad were alive.”
“We can’t afford to donate our time and supplies to the hospital anymore.” Holly bit off each word, sounding harsher than Adam knew she intended. Her head was bent over the Christmas-tree cookie she was decorating, but Adam saw the stricken look. Here she was, decorating Christmas trees even during her time off.
Laurel looked from Ivy to Holly’s bent head. “We could take over our leftovers on Christmas Eve, Holly. We won’t get any more jobs after that.”
Adam watched Holly compose her face. “We could,” she said evenly, “but why would the hospital, or anyone in it, hire us if they knew we’d come by on Christmas Eve, anyway?”
“We wouldn’t have to tell them,” Ivy pleaded.
Holly dragged in a deep breath. “It took three years for them to stop expecting us to pick up as usual. We do it now, and we can write them off as a potential client.”
“Money! That’s all you ever think about!” Ivy ran from the kitchen.
Laurel scowled at her. “You never quit, do you?” She turned toward the door. “I’ll go to Ivy.”
There was an uncomfortable silence. “Aren’t you going to leave, too?” Holly stared at Adam defiantly.
“No.” Adam put his arm around her and pulled her toward him. “I’d waste a perfectly good opportunity.” He kissed her, then drew back reluctantly. It wasn’t what she needed now.
“You don’t think I’m heartless?” She looked up at him, hurt visible in her brown eyes.
Adam cuddled her reassuringly, as he might a small child. “You’ve had to make some difficult and unpopular decisions.” Holly laid her head on Adam’s shoulder. He could smell the unusual scent she wore and satisfied himself with resting his cheek on the top of her head.
It was so rare to be alone with her, to be this close, that he found her nearness sweet torment. “Tell me why decorating the hospital is so special.”
“You know how my parents were about Christmas. Well, this was one of Mom’s charities, and we started decorating the children’s wing for Christmas each year. It got bigger and bigger. My . . . birthday is Christmas Eve . . .”
“Figures.” Adam laughed softly. “How did your parents manage that?”
Holly raised her head. “They were always well organized,” she said, smiling. “Noelle is my middle name. They thought it was fate.”
“This is too corny to be believed.”
“It is not. I always felt special. Anyway, I never regretted having my birthday so close to Christmas. We’d be at the hospital and bring presents for the kids there. It was like a giant birthday party and I always felt happy I could go home and not have to stay at the hospital. Which is probably just what my parents were trying to teach me.”
“I wish I could have met them,” Adam said, regret vibrating in his voice.
Holly just nodded, unable to speak. “At any rate,” she continued after a few moments, “it was the hospital decorations I used to start Deck the Halls, and Laurel and Ivy . . .” Her voice trailed off. Lifting her head, she scooted her chair away from Adam.
“You, sir, are addictive,” she said in an attempt to lighten the mood.
“That’s the whole idea.” Adam handed her a cookie.
“Seriously, you’ve been a good friend. I didn’t know how much I needed one until I met you.” Even as she spoke, Holly knew he was more than that.
Adam’s raised eyebrow, as he took a recently iced cookie for himself, told her he knew it, too.
Chapter Six
“ADAM WOULD DO IT—I know he would!” Ivy held up a red velvet Santa costume as Holly shook her head doubtfully.
“Probably, but let’s not ask him.”
“Holly, honey,” Laurel drawled, hands on hips, “you are going to have to decide how you feel about that man and go with it.”
“Laurel, honey,” Holly drawled back, glaring, “what does that have to do with asking him to wear Daddy’s Santa suit while we decorate the hospital?”
“You’re wearing Mama’s Mrs. Claus outfit,” Ivy stated as if that explained everything.
“Let’s give him a break. Adam is around here all the time!”
Laurel raised her eyebrows. “Which ought to tell you something.”
“Yes. We take advantage of him.” Holly returned to her ever-present notebook.
“He doesn’t mind—remember Sunday? If we don’t ask him to come with us, he’ll be hurt.” Ivy shook out the costume, apparently hoping five years wor
th of wrinkles would magically fall away.
Holly relented. “Come with us, yes. Wear the Santa outfit, no.”
Laurel poked through the hanging clothing bag. “I wonder if I can still get into my elf outfit?”
“Don’t even try.”
Laurel threw Holly a venomous glance. “I will overlook that remark. Holly, honey, your halfhearted protests aren’t fooling anybody. Including Adam.”
“Probably not, but I feel obligated to make them.”
“That’s the dumbest way to hook a man I ever heard of.”
“I’m not trying to hook him!” Holly grabbed the phone. “I’m going to let him know when we’re leaving.”
“On the other hand, maybe it’s pure genius. Maybe he likes the challenge.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, it’s busy.” Holly slammed down the phone. “I’m going over to his office,” she announced, thinking it would be a good excuse to do so.
“Ask him about wearing the outfit?” Ivy grinned hopefully.
Holly bit her lip and tried to imagine Adam in the huge red suit. “Have the pillows ready.” She got her coat. “And don’t forget to pick up replacement bulbs for the two jobs we’ve got this afternoon.”
It had been five years since Holly had been to the Swinehart, Cathardy and Steele offices. She’d asked for legal help. Not only did they plead conflict of interest—which she had heard countless times—they’d presented her with another in a mounting pile of bills.
She’d learned a lot that day. Old Mr. Steele had looked her right in the eye as he denied her request. Most of the other lawyers hadn’t been able to do that, hiding behind a barrage of papers and legal terminology.
The keyboards were silent as Holly opened the glass doors and stepped into the muted gray of the outer office.
“Adam Markland?” she asked the flamboyant redheaded receptionist, whose eyes widened apprehensively.
“I’m Holly Hall,” Holly introduced herself, adding dryly, “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“Thanks.” The woman sagged with relief and flicked a glance at the switchboard. “He’s on the telephone.”
“He’s still here, then.”
“He never goes out for lunch.” The woman answered one of the blinking lights on the switchboard.
The sound of Adam’s voice as he spoke on the phone guided Holly to his office. She peered around the half-open door and slowly walked in.
Adam cradled the receiver between his ear and shoulder, scribbling furiously. Without looking up, he waved her in and stood up to feel for his wallet. He withdrew some money and shoved it toward her, never removing his eyes from his notes.
“Just a moment.” Adam covered the mouthpiece. “Make it roast beef today, Darlene—” He looked up finally, and saw Holly, his face registering pleased astonishment.
In the few moments Holly stood by Adam’s desk, she had a chance to see the stacks of file folders and bundles of papers covering every chair, sofa, filing cabinet and shelf in the office.
“Adam, you’re busy so . . .” She waved and turned to leave.
Adam stretched across the desk and grabbed her arm, shaking his head. He held on, looking at her as he finished his phone conversation.
“Holly! What are you doing here?” Adam smiled delightedly as, still holding on to her arm, he walked around his desk.
“I—” Holly stopped, looked around the room and back to Adam. “You’re very busy aren’t you?”
“Oh, always,” Adam replied cheerfully.
Holly was silent, absorbing the unpleasant implications. She folded her arms and tapped her foot. “You haven’t been doing your homework before coming over to our house to play.”
“Have so. I’m a morning person, anyway.” Adam lounged against his desk, grinning.
Holly wagged a finger at him. “You are not. And the receptionist says you don’t go out to lunch.”
“Don’t want to.”
They eyed each other.
“What’s up?” Adam continued to lean against his desk—no chair was available for Holly—extremely relaxed, considering that moments before, he had been a whirlwind of activity.
Holly deliberately rested her weight on the desk, side by side with Adam. “An anonymous philanthropist just hired us to decorate the children’s wing of the hospital. He must have seen our stuff in one of the Town Square magazines they leave in the waiting rooms. Laurel and Ivy are thrilled and, uh, they insisted I come to invite you along, since you got to hear all about it last Sunday.”
“I’d be delighted.”
“But Adam!” Holly gestured at the mess around them. “You can’t leave this.”
Adam started to say something, but didn’t. Holly suspected he was about to admit that he left it every night and cringed.
He shrugged. “I’ll come in early tomorrow.”
Holly walked around until she stood in front of him. “Like you do every morning?”
“Best time of the day,” he said softly.
Holly gave him a long look and started for the door. “I’m going to get you some lunch. Healthy lunch. When I get back, I want you to tell me how I can help you.”
“Thanks for the offer.” Adam smiled. “I’ll accept the lunch, but you’re not a lawyer.”
“No, but Exemplary Temps taught me how to do office busywork.”
“Holly.” Adam crossed the room. “You don’t have to do this.” His hands cupped her face and he placed a kiss on her forehead.
“Sure I do,” Holly said as Adam released her and she hurried out the door. “I didn’t tell you about the Santa suit yet.”
HOLLY COUNTED it a major achievement when she cleared the leather sofa in Adam’s office after several hours of tedious work. She rewarded herself by stretching full-length on it. Her eyes drifted shut as the intercom buzzed.
“Hey, move over.” Adam nudged her feet onto the floor. “I want to sit here and enjoy the thirty seconds before another load arrives.”
“Adam, what are you? The garbage dump for the office?”
Adam chuckled wearily as he rubbed his temples. “I mediate nonroutine controversies and assign cases.”
“You haven’t assigned very many cases.”
“I like to keep the difficult ones.”
Holly sat up. “You’re doing all the behind-the-scenes work and other lawyers are getting all the glory.”
Adam rested his head on the sofa back and stared at the ceiling. “I don’t want that kind of glory. I do not enjoy tearing apart the remnants of people’s lives just so I get a mark in the win column. I like sitting around a table with two opposing sides and hammering out a way for everyone to get on with their lives. I’ve won if people resolve their differences and are still speaking to each other.” Adam closed his eyes in a slow blink, then turned his head toward Holly. “Understand?”
“No.”
Adam wore his bland face. When he spoke, his words were barely above a whisper. “If I’d been mediating for you, your father’s estate could have been sorted out in a quarter of the time. There might even have been something left for you.”
“I don’t want something, I want it all. I’m entitled to it.”
Adam shook his head. “That attitude clogs the courts and makes lawyers rich. With compromise, everybody wins.”
“That’s giving in, admitting you’re wrong.”
“You see? When people let their emotions interfere—”
“Oh, no,” Holly interrupted. “I learned, right here in the glorious offices of Swinehart, Cathardy and Steele—” she threw her arms out in an all-encompassing gesture—“that emotions have no place in business.”
“And you don’t think anger and bitterness are emotions?”
“They’re reminders.”
Holly heard the faint sarcasm in his voice and didn’t care. “If I’d gone soft, we wouldn’t be getting paid to decorate at the hospital tonight. But,” she added, trying to lighten Adam’s flat mood, “I’ve been known to mellow a bit.”
“How?”
“I just spent the entire afternoon here with you.”
“I have a feeling I’m going to pay for that in some way.”
“No, no. It’s an honor, really.”
“Mmm.” Adam absently caressed her shoulder, his eyes closed.
Just when Holly thought he had drifted off to sleep, he opened his eyes, training his blue gaze on her. “You mentioned children and a Santa suit within moments of each other.”
“Oooh. You’re good. I thought you missed the bit about the Santa suit.”
Adam raised an eyebrow at her.
Holly stared down at her hands, finding some imperfection on her thumbnail and examining it. “It was Ivy’s idea. I’ll be wearing Mom’s Mrs. Claus outfit and . . .”
A dimple deepened in Adam’s cheek. “Finally asking for help?”
“This isn’t help; it’s atmosphere.” She glanced up at him, trying to gauge his reaction. He was back to the blandly pleasant lawyer again. She hated that. He did it so well. She flung her hands apart. “Ivy is . . . Ivy’s trying to make everything like it was.”
“Ivy is.”
Holly took a deep, exasperated breath. “The children like it.”
Adam nodded. “The children.”
“Adam!”
“Holly?”
They stared at each other.
“Are you worried that I’ll get lascivious notions at the thought of you playing Mrs. Claus to my Santa?” He leered at her.
Holly began to laugh, a deep throaty laugh. “You’ll do it, won’t you?”
“Ho ho ho.”
“YOUR FATHER WAS a big man.” Adam stared at the folds of red velvet pooling around his ankles.
“Yes,” chorused three female voices. There was one Mrs. Claus, one elf and one red designer jumpsuit.
Deck the Halls Page 9
