All I Want for Christmas is Big Blue Eyes

by Claire Ashgrove

  Walking inside, he made his way to the gift shop and the multitude of glass cases that displayed miniature furniture for sale.

  An elderly female guide greeted him with a crooked smile. “Merry Christmas, Josh. I haven’t seen you in a while—got another of your special projects?”

  “Yeah, I’m working on something for someone back home.”

  Her face lit up as she stepped behind the counter. “Well, what can I get for you? The usual—floors, walls, fixtures?”

  Josh grinned. “Yep. Show me whatcha got.”

  He left a half-hour later, toting two bags of decorations, knowing full well he’d gone overboard. But he could work on it a little at a time while the builders completed other aspects. The model would remain a work in progress until the last speck of paint dried on the real version.

  He dropped the sacks in his truck, joining them with the other two packages atop his spare tire. His trinkets tucked away, he slid behind the wheel and navigated the handful of blocks to his house.

  Opening the front door, he glanced around, hoping Olivia’s bags were nearby—an indication she’d at least packed last night. But as his gaze canvassed the ornate foyer, it skidded to a halt at the bottom of his mahogany staircase. Cut into the far corner of the lowest step, a jagged gash, approximately four inches long, cleaved the polished wood, revealing raw fibers. Telltale teeth marks punctured the rich finish along the whole front edge.

  He clenched his jaw and dropped his gaze a fraction.

  Stretched out on the floor in front of the destruction, a fuzzy ball of cream-colored fur wagged its tail. Behind a black button-nose, two wide brown eyes looked up at him, and between its teeth, it proudly showed off the missing chunk of his stair step.

  “Olivia!”

  At his ferocious bellow, the puppy jumped to all fours, tucked its tail between its legs, and made a beeline for the kitchen.

  Josh followed the dog, intent on intercepting the mongrel before it could do any more damage. But as he stomped through the wide archway into his kitchen, he froze. Gaping, he stared at the debris around him. A shredded black trash bag lay near the back door, he presumed waiting for trash day. What it had contained, however, was strewn from corner to corner like confetti. In the middle of the room, a large puddle pooled on his stone tile.

  The culprit lay under Josh’s wine rack.

  He glowered.

  Crouched over a banana peel, the puppy stuck its haunches in the air and let out a short, shrill, yap.

  Blinking, Josh backed into the hallway where he pivoted on one heel and stalked back to the staircase. “Olivia!”

  “Stop yelling.” Her complaint came from the living room. Groggy, it blended with a protesting groan.

  Storming into the opposite room, he yanked the couch pillow from beneath her head. “Get up and get your dog.”

  She scrunched her features together and sat up with a yawn. Lifting her arm to eye-height, she showed him a nylon loop fastened around her wrist. “Charley’s right…” Trailing off, she frowned at the chewed-through material.

  Olivia bent over the side of the couch and picked up what was left of the nylon leash. Gnawed in half, Josh needed no further explanation of what had happened to his house.

  “Oh, damn,” she muttered. “Where is the little trouble-maker?”

  “Last I saw, he was in the kitchen. You go have fun with that. I’m going to get a dog crate. There’s no way in hell I’m taking that mongrel into Amanda’s house. He’ll termite it in a day.”

  Rubbing at her eyes, she stood up. “No, I’ve got a crate upstairs. I just fell asleep waiting on you.”

  “Fix my kitchen,” Josh grumbled as he stalked out of the room and up the stairs.

  Amazingly, Olivia’s bedroom looked nothing like the tornado he’d expected. He spied one chewed up high heel next to her bed, but otherwise, even the dog crate in the corner was spotless. A fact that, in and of itself, marveled him. He couldn’t count how many times he’d heard her piddling around in the wee hours of morning, doing this, dropping that, breaking something else in her never-ending quest to create her latest masterpiece. By all rights, the room should be a disaster.

  It was, by no means, spotless. Olivia knew tidy not necessarily clean. Not like Amanda. Amanda understood spotless and applied it liberally where Emma wasn’t prone to play. A habit that mimicked his own need for organization and order.

  Another thing he cherished about Amanda.

  He hefted the portable crate up and carried it down the stairs. As he set it near the door, the destructive varmint she called “Charley” wandered in, dragging a half-chewed roll of paper towels.

  Josh chortled as he squatted near the cage. Assuming false affection, he extended his hand and called, “Hey, pup.”

  Tail wagging, the puppy pranced over to him, shaking the paper towel roll as he went. Bits of shredded material trailed along behind him, sparking Josh’s annoyance again.

  The puppy got within two feet, and Josh reached for the roll.

  Charley crouched, tugging back on the other end with a comical growl.

  Smirking, Josh eased the tension in his hand and pulled slowly, drawing the dog forward across the polished floor until he could grab it around its pudgy belly. He picked it up with a perturbed frown, only to be rewarded with furious licks and the most foul-smelling puppy-breath he could remember ever experiencing.

  With a disgusted wrinkle of his nose, he gently put the dog in the crate and locked the metal mesh door.

  It wasn’t that he didn’t like dogs. He loved them—so long as they were well behaved and not in a person’s face. Puppies, while adorable, were walking piles of TNT. Left unattended, they could destroy a house faster than an actual stick of dynamite.

  The dog now effectively contained, he went into the living room for Olivia’s suitcases. There, he paused, staring down at the three bags. Three. For a day and a half. Good Lord, he’d hate to see what she took on a long vacation.

  “Sis?”

  “Yes?” she hollered from the kitchen.

  “Do you need all of this stuff?”

  Her low heels clicked down the hall, growing louder as she neared the entryway. “Of course I do. I wouldn’t have packed them if I didn’t. One has my clothes. That larger one has my shoes and my girl-stuff. The other has all my art stuff you told me to pack. What am I doing down there with that anyway?”

  “I’ll show you when we get there.” He reached for the large suitcase she’d said held her shoes, and hesitated. “Why do you need a full suitcase for shoes? You’re staying less than forty-eight hours.”

  “Well, there’s my slippers in case the house is cold, my tennis shoes if I want to lounge around, a pair of heels if I have to dress up depending on what everyone else is wearing, my boots if it snows, a pair of flats so I can dress down, and my token pair of brown loafers if I need to make my jeans look a little nicer.”

  Josh squinted, trying to make sense of her reasoning. With a shake of his head, he picked up the suitcase and marched to the door. “I pity the next man you marry, sis. I think you have more shoes than even Amanda, and she’s got a closet full.”

  Olivia giggled. “It’s how many that are under the bed that count, little brother.”

  He blinked. Lord. Just how many did Amanda have stashed under her bed? He glanced over his shoulder. “What else do you women keep under the bed?”

  He shook his head again. “No. Never mind. Don’t answer that, I don’t want to know.” With that, he exited and deposited two of her three suitcases in the trunk.

  Returning inside, he went to his office, gathered the things he needed for his model, and took them out to the car also. Then he wandered back to his kitchen to find Olivia sweeping up the last of the scattered trash. He leaned a shoulder against the wall and crossed one ankle over the other. “You about ready?”

  “I can’t believe you’re dragging me back to Lexington. How did I know, when you
left last week, you wouldn’t come back the same way you left?”

  He raised his eyebrow. “The same way I left? What do you mean? I’m not different.”

  She looked up from her dustpan with a light laugh. “Right. Have you looked in the mirror?”

  Josh gave her a quizzical look. “What are you talking about? I shaved this morning, of course I have.”

  “Josh,” she said on a sigh. “That’s not what I mean. Look at yourself. Really look. If I painted you last week, and again right now, you’d see what I do. It’s in your eyes. Hidden in the lines on your face. I’d use more grey for your cheeks last week. Today, I’d add in a touch of pink, maybe some more yellow.”

  “English, Olivia. Speak the language the rest of us know.”

  She breezed past him, her summer-print, floral skirt swishing around her ankles. With a little wave of her hand near her ear, she beckoned him to follow, and in a way that was only Olivia, waltzed down the hallway as if her body moved wholly detached from her brain. “You’re at peace, Joshua Allen McDaniels. Settled down. You look like one of those damn soccer-dads, ready to coach your son on the sidelines.”

  He opened his mouth to speak, considered what she said and snapped it shut. Somewhere in the foggy world his sister lived in, where everything had a designated color and a specific texture, what she said made sense. In his mind, where the majority of the rest of the world spoke a language called English, she sounded off her rocker.

  Instead, he picked up the dog, along with her remaining suitcase, and shouldered open the front door. Holding it for her, he chuckled to himself as she sauntered by, her expression a mask of thoughtful wandering.

  He put the dog in the backseat and waited for her to sit down so he could shut the door. Jogging around the front end, he let himself in and started the ignition. Glancing at her as he backed out of his driveway, he ventured, “I went by the old house. They’ve painted it. It looks real nice.”

  “What color did they paint it?”

  “Blue-grey.”

  She nodded. “Like rain. That house always made me think of rain. Mom and Dad should have painted it blue-grey. Maybe it would have tempered or calmed everything that was under the surface.”

  “You know,” Josh began in a quiet voice. “I used to hate that house. But I’ve realized a lot of things these last few days. Lexington isn’t as bad as I thought it was. It’s quaint. Cozy. Everyone knows everyone. Friends are there when you need them, no matter what.”

  Olivia flashed him a cocky grin. “I ought to take a quick tumble in someone’s sheets when I get there. Maybe I won’t find it quite as dreary either.”

  Josh couldn’t help but laugh. “Lucas is single.”

  “Lucas? Dear God, not in a thousand lifetimes. After the way he cut my hair off while I was asleep, for crashing his stupid helicopter, he’ll be lucky if I even say hello.”

  His laughter deepened at the memory, and a visual of his sister, with half her hair cut into a chin-length bob, the other half—the side she’d been sleeping on—dangling mid-waist, jumped into his mind. She’d cried for weeks after their mother removed the longer lengths to even it out. That had marked war between his sister and his best friend. From that day forward, any time they could annoy the other, they did. As a result, Josh kept Lucas far from the house through junior high, until Olivia left for the Kansas City Art Institute, and it was safe enough to have him over once more.

  Thirty

  Standing on her doorstep, Amanda let a shivering Emma inside before facing Lucas. “You sure you don’t want to come in for a while? I’ll even let you hang out in the kitchen while I put something together for dinner. I’m thinking we’ll have stew tonight. Something hearty to counter this freezing weather.”

  “Can’t, babe. I’ve been too busy this week, an’ I’ve still got gifts to wrap.”

  “Oh, Luc,” she cried. “You should have told me while I was there. I’d have wrapped them for you.”

  He shrugged. “You were busy. ’Sides, I wrap better than you do.”

  She blushed at the truth. She tended to haphazardly throw paper on things while he took his time, folded neat lines, and used double-sided tape to hide the seams. Which was why she’d asked him to wrap the finished scrapbook.

  “You’ll come by later?” She glanced over her shoulder, checking to insure Emma wasn’t within hearing range. Lowering her voice, she added, “To bring over the Santa gifts?”

  “’Course. Ten late enough? Think she’ll be out?”

  “She better be.” She tossed him a playful grin. “I’ll have fresh cookies for you.”

  “If Josh doesn’t eat ’em first,” he protested with a grumble.

  Amanda laughed. “I’ll be sure to hide some for you.”

  “Okay, I’m goin’. Be back later.”

  With a nod, she backed into the house and shut the door. A troubled frown pulled at her brows as she glanced around and found no sign of Josh, or his eccentric sister. It was well after noon—he’d said he’d be back by now. Had they run into trouble? Surely, the roads weren’t still bad in the city, not if Lexington had managed to clear all theirs up.

  As she sorted through the possibilities, the sound of an engine in her driveway erased her worries. A quick glance out the front window revealed her car. Josh had the trunk open.

  She moved to the door, slid her feet in her boots, and stuck her head outside. “Want some help?” she called.

  “I got it. Stay inside, out of the cold.”

  Resisting the urge to hover for a first glance at Olivia, Amanda pushed the door partially shut and wandered to the kitchen and her freezer, trying to pretend she wasn’t dying to see how the years might have changed Josh’s sister.

  As she put a tub of frozen, homemade, beef stew under the hot water to thaw, their voices rumbled in the front room. She wiped her damp hands on her jeans and abandoned her sink to greet them.

  Josh dropped Olivia’s suitcases in the middle of the room and embraced Amanda. The scent of outdoors clung to his coat, and she took a deep breath, returning his hug with a tight squeeze.

  Keeping one arm around her waist, he stepped away, indicating Olivia with a dip of his head. “Amanda, this is my sister. Sis—Amanda.”

  Amanda stretched out one hand, and clasped Olivia’s firmly. She appraised the eccentric woman with a subtle sweeping glance, noting the oddity of her bright, summer attire. Despite her unusual clothes, however, Olivia was startlingly pretty. Deep auburn hair tumbled in loose curls down her back, almost touching her waist. Unlike Josh’s darker olive coloring, Olivia’s skin was fair. Light freckles dotted her nose and cheekbones, and although she rivaled him in height, her features were far more delicate.

  “I’ve heard so much about you over the years, Olivia. It’s nice to finally meet you face to face.”

  Olivia’s smile revealed genuine feeling as she shook Amanda’s hand. “Likewise, Amanda. Josh has rambled on so many times I feel like we’ve met a dozen times before.”

  A whimpering near the Christmas tree caught Amanda’s attention, and she craned her neck to investigate the sound. On the ground, a dog crate jiggled back and forth, dull thumping bouncing off the plastic enclosure.

  Amanda’s smile deepened. “Is that the dog Josh mentioned?”

  “Yes, it is. I bet he needs to go out.”

  “Don’t let her convince you to let that monster roam free.” Josh gave his sister a look full of warning. “He ate my house.”

  No matter how inappropriate it was, Amanda couldn’t hold back a laugh. Fascinated with the moving crate, she knelt down before it, peering in to find a puppy, so adorable he could have easily been a commercial star. “Oh, he’s cute! What’s his name?”

  “Charley.”

  “Can I hold him?”

  Olivia nodded. “He might pee though. When he gets excited, he doesn’t have much control yet. He’s only ten weeks old.”

  “Emma, come down here and
see this!” Amanda leaned forward to release the latches on the crate’s door, catching the fuzzy puppy as he bolted out.

  His tongue lashed over her cheeks, greeting her with furious slobbers. “Puppy-breath!” Amanda exclaimed, giggling as she tried to twist her head and thwart his excited licks. “That’s the best smell in the world.”

  “What Mom?” Emma asked from the landing in the middle of the stairs.

  “Come say hello to Olivia and her puppy.”

  “Ooh!” Emma raced down the rest of the stairs, skidded past Josh, and dropped to kneel at her mother’s side.

  Amanda set Charley in Emma’s outstretched arms with the caution, “Hold him close so he doesn’t squirm away. He needs to potty.”

  Standing up, she perched one hip on the back of the couch. “Olivia, this is my daughter, Emma. Emma, this is Josh’s sister, Olivia.”

  Between giggles, Emma replied, “Josh said I could call you Aunt Olivia. Is that okay?”

  Amanda resisted the urge to cover her face with her hands. Good Lord. When had her child become so outspoken? But as Josh set his hand on Amanda’s shoulder and gave her a reassuring squeeze, Olivia approached Emma. Kneeling beside her on the floor, she wrapped her arms around Emma’s shoulders and pulled her into a sideways hug.

  “I’d like that, Emma. I hear you’re a princess. Do you have a tiara?”

  Emma glanced between the three adults, confusion etched into her features. “What’s a tiara?”

  “A crown, sweetheart,” Josh answered before the question registered in Amanda’s mind.

  She was too busy being amazed by Olivia’s fond welcome to realize her daughter had said something. Did this kind of affection just naturally lurk in Josh’s genes? The way they both instantly took to Emma floored her.

  “You know what, Emma?” Olivia asked.

  “What?”

  “If you’ll help me unpack I might just have a tiara in my bags somewhere.”

  Emma’s eyes widened like saucers as her mouth dropped open in surprise. “Really?”

  “Really. But I need to take Charley out to potty first.” Olivia extracted her dog from Emma’s hands, holding him close to her chest as she stood up.