Kitty Valentine Dates Santa

by Jillian Dodd

  His eyes widen. I remember when he was younger and his gray hair was still black. He’s one of the only constants in my life. Really, he’s sort of acted as my grandfather since I never got to meet mine.

  He chuckles with a wry expression. “You are so much like her. I often wonder if she was like you at your age.”

  “You’ve seen pictures of her, right?”

  “Yes, and the resemblance is striking. The same hair, the same eyes.”

  “And she’s still sharp as a tack.”

  His smile falters, and that’s when I know I’m in for something I absolutely don’t want to hear. But if he’s brave enough to reach out to me and put this little lunch together, I’m brave enough to listen with my whole heart.

  Besides, if there’s something wrong with her, he’s probably aching for somebody to talk to.

  “You remember the discussion we had the other night, I’m sure.”

  I try to crack a smile along with a joke. “The one about how much Matt makes?”

  He laughs softly at that. “Told you about that, did he? She means well.”

  “Oh, I know she does.”

  “I wasn’t referring to that though. I was referring to the travel talk.”

  “Okay,” I say, only now, I’m really worried. Because he looks worried.

  “I don’t want to upset you.”

  “Oh no.” I set the sandwich down.

  “No, no, please. Forgive me. I’m so clumsy when it comes to these things. I suppose I’m used to your grandmother doing the talking for me. After so many years, you learn what the other is thinking without having to be told. She finishes my sentences before I’ve even fully formed them in my mind. It might be for the best for her to stay home from now on. At least, to stay in the city and get her rest.”

  “Her heart.”

  He sighs and hesitates but nods. “There were a few times during our trip when her color seemed off and she got overly tired.”

  “I wondered if the trip would be too much for her.”

  “Well, you know her. There’s no convincing her to take it easy. I did, however, convince her to visit her doctor when we got home. He suggested that she dial back her physical activity for a while.”

  “How did she take that?”

  “Do you really need to ask?”

  “I guess not.”

  Knowing her, she probably signed up for a 5K immediately on getting home, just to prove a point. Maybe we’re more alike than I’ve previously admitted now that I think about it.

  “I didn’t want you to think I was ungrateful toward her, the way she offered to help my travel dreams become a reality. I’m not that stubborn. I’m only worried about her.”

  This I can handle. So long as she hasn’t gotten any worse.

  I go back to the sandwich, thinking as I chew. “You know she’d hate it if she knew you were digging in your heels because of her health.”

  “She knows.”

  “She does? And she’s still being impossible? Right. Of course she is. Pretend I didn’t ask that.”

  “She refuses to accept the doctor’s orders. And mind you, he didn’t make it sound like a life-or-death situation. He suggested she take it easy and not tax herself for no reason.”

  More chewing. More thinking.

  “I have to talk through something going on in my head. I hope you don’t mind,” I finally say.

  “Not at all.” If anything, he looks glad to be finished speaking for a while. Now, he can get into actually eating his lunch.

  “Okay, so my immediate impulse is to side with you a hundred percent—please, let me work it through before you say anything.” I hate to even think it, but the poor man is used to having to hold his tongue while a woman speaks her mind. “Like I said, I want to side with you. As far as I’m concerned, she should be locked in her room and monitored around the clock to make sure she’s not going against her doctor’s orders. If I had my way, she’d move into a single-floor home, so she wouldn’t have to use the stairs at all. Someplace smaller while we’re at it. Less walking around. I know she’d hate it, but it would be for her own good.” I pick at what’s left of half my sandwich and sigh. “But if someone told me what to do, I would not be happy about it.”

  “You’re right, of course.”

  “And I can see the dilemma since we both want what’s best. But what is best really? We all have a limited amount of time on this earth. And I shouldn’t tell her what to do. We can’t tell her what to do. We have to make her want to do what’s good for her. You’re a brave man, Peter,” I say with a laugh because Grandmother can be quite the handful.

  “I’m a very lucky man. Your grandmother is a remarkable woman who I have the honor of loving. I suppose Matt and I have that much in common. We both love remarkable women.”

  “What if you suggested shorter trips? Like a ten-day stay in Tokyo rather than over three weeks of touring various European sites? All the traveling from one place to another probably took its toll.”

  “I imagine it did. She insisted though.”

  “Big surprise. I think it’s a fair compromise—a shorter trip, one location, and she can rest a little when she needs to. And she gets to experience it all with you. If that goes well, you can take another trip and another one, and pretty soon, you’ll have had adventures all over the world.”

  “Safe ones.”

  “Safe ones, of course.”

  “You’re right.” He looks and sounds so relieved now. “I’m sure she’ll agree to that. And if she doesn’t want to behave herself, we can sit in the hotel every day until it’s time to go.”

  She’ll never go for that, but I don’t have the heart to say it.

  We have a nice time, chatting about the upcoming holidays, and Peter is sounding much better than when he first arrived.

  “I’m so glad you came over,” I tell him. “And that you brought the egg salad. Matt and I will be living on it until it’s gone.”

  I walk with him toward the front door, but before he leaves, I grab him in an impulsive hug. “I love you. I don’t know if I’ve ever said that to you, but I thought you should know. Not just because of who you are to her, but because of who you are, period.”

  When I let him go, his eyes are a little brighter, a little shinier than before. “And I love you. I’ve always thought of you as a granddaughter.”

  “I know,” I say, feeling emotional.

  Good thing Matt walks in when he does. “Good to see you, Peter,” he says, setting down the bag he’s carrying so he can shake Peter’s hand.

  They chat for a minute before Peter says, “Your grandmother will be getting back from having lunch and playing cards with her friends soon, and I will be honest, I didn’t tell her about our lunch plans,” and then bids us farewell.

  When we’re alone, Matt raises his brow, leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded. “So? How’d it go?”

  “Okay. Grandmother overdid it a little on their trip, so Peter and I worked out a plan so that they could keep traveling in a way that would be less stressful to her heart. You would’ve been proud of me. I didn’t freak. Who knows? Maybe Kitty Valentine has finally grown up.”

  “I hope not too much,” he teases before giving me a kiss. “Because Phoebe and I brought you a surprise.” He picks the bag he brought in and hands it to me.

  “Oh, Matt!” I squeal. “Peppermint bark, homemade toffee, sugared pecans, and candy canes! I love all those!” I dig deeper and pull out a DVD. “And these are all the animated Christmas shows that were on television when I was a kid. Rudolph and Frosty were always my favorite!”

  “I thought we could spend the rest of the day in front of the fire, snuggled up and watching them.”

  I turn around and look around at the plastic tarps covering most everything around us.

  “That sounds perfect. Any chance you might put on the Santa suit again?” I ask.

  “Hmm … that could probably be arranged.”

  CHAPTER SE
VENTEEN

  “So, you’re meeting with Maggie this afternoon, right?” Matt asks as I’m trying to get myself to look decent even though, currently, we only have running water in the kitchen.

  “How many more days do we have left?” I ask. Last I heard there were three. Or six maybe. Depending on if all the supplies came in on time.

  His contractor friend has been amazing. Old walls are gone. New walls are being built. Painting started very early this morning. I’ve never seen a project move so fast. Well, except on those house shows, which I am basically living right now. Although I’m pretty sure those people move out.

  “Not too many. And they’re installing the tub and tiling today. So, Matt and I were thinking,” Jack says.

  Jack is the general contractor, and I’m wondering what decision they made without me. I really can’t complain though. I’m happy with how it’s all turning out. And I can’t wait for my library to be complete. We decided not to make it like Grandmother’s with its dark wood and heavy furniture. The designer, Barbara, saw the color of my office and decided to play off it. The library cabinets are all going to be painted a gorgeous dark blue gray. And don’t even get me started on the bold wallpaper she chose. Pretty much, the decision-making process has involved me jumping up and down and clapping with excitement. Matt has been more practical about things. He’s all into the details. Like how much water pressure the showerhead will have, being able to control all the lights in the house with his phone, and the felt on the pool table.

  “What were you thinking?” I ask.

  “That you should move into a hotel for a few days while we get everything finished,” Jack says.

  I turn to Matt. “And you didn’t think I would agree?”

  Matt just shrugs, like he has no idea. But he does. He knows I’m not great with change. And he knows I’m going to see Maggie today, and depending how things go, that might involve a lot of change. And he probably knows it’s better to just shrug than say what he really thinks and have me disagree.

  Hmm. Maybe this whole relationship has a shot, long-term.

  “Jack, I think it’s a brilliant idea. Does that mean we can do one of those reveals, like they do on television?”

  “It does,” Jack says.

  “Not washing my hair in the kitchen sink, room service, and a reveal? I’m in,” I say happily. Really, I’m so happy right now, I can hardly stand myself.

  But then I remember what I have to do today first.

  “I told you she’d love it,” Jack says, slapping Matt on the back with a smirk.

  “I already made reservations and packed,” Matt says, grinning back at him.

  Jack goes back through the plastic barrier and chats with the crew. Matt pulls me into a hug.

  “Why did you shrug if you’d already made reservations?” I ask. “Is it because you know I don’t like surprises?”

  “You have told me that before.”

  I nod, sliding my hands up his firm chest. “Well, you should know that I’m over that. You’ve cured me. I now love surprises. Especially when they are from you.”

  “I’m touched, Valentine.” He slaps me on the ass and says, “Be strong today, and we’ll celebrate at the hotel tonight.”

  I practically float to my appointment. How could I not? I feel like I’m a character in one of my books, living her perfect life. Granted, it’s a bit of a mess right now, but how lucky are we that Matt had a friend who could pull this remodel off in such a condensed period of time? In a few days, we’ll go back to a combined apartment that will be our home.

  “So, are you really in love with your hot neighbor? Is he worth risking your career for?” are the first words out of Maggie’s mouth.

  I’m so stunned that all I can do is nod.

  “The hot neighbor,” she continues. “Let’s go with that then. It can be your next trope.”

  “I’m keeping that one to myself,” I say with a forced grin.

  “Pity,” she says. “Lois tells me that because of some man, you want to stop doing what’s earning you money.”

  “No, because of a man, I made the decision to stop dating for research. I have also realized that I miss writing from my heart. The stories that speak to me, not the stories I’m told to write.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I want to write sweet again, Maggie. And although the steamier stuff is selling, since you made me get on social media, I’m getting a lot of messages from my readers who miss them. And if you don’t agree—”

  “What, did you fire Lois?”

  “No, but I’ve been doing some research.” Actually, Matt has done a ton of research. “And if you don’t want my sweet stories or to pay me what they are worth, I’ll find another publisher. Or self-publish. Go indie.”

  “What?” Maggie looks aghast. Like I just uttered a string of horrible curse words at her.

  “Matt’s a financial wizard. He’s done projections, and honestly, between the cut you and Lois take, even if I didn’t sell as many, I’d make twice as much, if not more. I’m not the wide-eyed college girl who was just thrilled to see my story on a bookstore shelf anymore.”

  “Oh, so it’s all about the money now?” she chides.

  I chuckle. “No, but it has always been about that for you. Money is the reason you sent me down this path. Money and the company’s bottom line and your bonuses are what drive you. So, don’t even think of questioning my love for writing. Because it’s my love for writing—my passion for love stories—that drives me. Do I think my sweet loves stories will be a little spicier after this experiment? Yes. Have I grown through this? Yes. Have I learned to appreciate the art of writing sexy times? Yes. But the truth is, I like leaving something to the imagination. I like knowing just enough to tease, to take me down a path, and then letting my imagination do the rest. And there’s a market for that.”

  “Does Lois know about this?”

  “She knows how I feel, and she’s had other inquiries that she’s going to pursue. Although I appreciate that she helped negotiate my contracts, the fact that she gets a cut for the lifetime of the book, doing something a lawyer could have done for a flat fee, kind of makes me sick to my stomach. Times are changing, Maggie.”

  “Very clever,” she says. “That’s what I told you when we started the trope books, didn’t I?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hmm. So, in other words, Lois is out, shopping you and your next book to other publishers. She’ll get a bidding war going. And it’s a lose-lose for me.”

  I give her a shrug. I don’t know where this confident Kathryn Valentine came from, but it feels good. If I were writing this in a book, I’d want to say it was from the love of a good man, but I know that’s just part of it. The confidence has always been there. I mean, have you met my grandmother? She oozes the shit. And some of that must have gotten passed down to me. It just got buried a little after my parents died. But I can honestly say that, today, I’m proud to feel a little bit like her.

  And I’ve also decided that if Matt and I ever get married, I am going to want the dream wedding, and I damn well know that she’s going to help me plan it. And if she wants to pay for it because it brings her joy, I’ve decided I’m going to let her.

  “I’ll get back to you,” Maggie finally says, ending our meeting.

  I’m getting ready to catch a cab when my phone rings.

  Blake Marlin. Interesting.

  “Kitty Valentine,” he says when I answer.

  “Blake Marlin,” I reply, still feeling cocky.

  “I hear you’re putting the screws in one of my companies.”

  And I swear, the second he says that, I think of Matt in nothing but a hard hat and a tool belt, and I nearly start giggling.

  “Well, if you taught me anything, Blake, it was that everything is open for negotiation. Except with your mother.”

  This causes him to laugh out loud. “Damn straight.” He’s quiet for a moment then says wistfully, “I guess at least I
can say, I was your first.”

  “We didn’t sleep together, Blake, despite my attempts.”

  “I meant your first trope. But you are right. Business often gets in the way of my pleasure, but I’m working on that. Actually, because of you, I’m working less. Instead of twenty-four/seven, it’s more like twenty-four/five. I’m trying to take the weekends off on a regular basis.”

  “Good for you.”

  “I shouldn’t be telling you this because I’m eroding Maggie’s bargaining ability, but you should know she’s been given a blank check in regard to you. I don’t want you to leave my company.”

  I’m stunned. “Uh, thank you.”

  “Trust me, Kitty, I know what’s going on in the industry. I know you could probably make more as an independent, but I hope if the advances are high enough and the terms are to your satisfaction, you’ll stay with us and let us handle the business side of things for you.”

  And I will admit, that’s something that concerned me when Matt brought it up. I don’t know if I want the hassle of owning a business or if I just want to write books.

  “I hope that happens, too, Blake, and I’m happy you’re taking some time off.”

  “Well, I met someone,” he says.

  “You did? Tell me all about her.”

  “She’s a veterinarian. One of Mom’s dogs got sick when I happened to be paying a visit, and when we met, it was …”

  “Fate?” I venture.

  “Something like that. I don’t know; you’re the writer. Anyway, I’ve been trying to get out there as much as possible to see her.”

  “I bet that makes your mom happy.”

  “Oh, she’s in heaven.”

  I can believe that, thinking back on my visit to meet her and how much she clearly doted on her brilliant and successful son.

  “I’m so glad, for all of you. Listen, if this veterinarian of yours can get you to relax and enjoy life a little, she has my approval.”

  “That means a lot.”

  I bite my lip before whispering, “To tell you the truth, I think I have found somebody. Somebody very special.”