To assist with his holiday attitude adjustment, he started playing Gunner Price’s Christmas album off of iTunes. And it wasn’t just ego wanting to hear his own creations playing, because most of these were old Christmas classics. Only three had been written by TW Prescott—West’s professional name. He had to admit they weren’t bad, maybe they’d even be classics a hundred years from now. That’d be cool.
It was funny being a songwriter. Even if you were talented and successful—words that folks in the music industry used to describe West—you could still slip right under everyone’s celebrity radar. And that came in pretty handy. Sometimes he’d be with Gunner and suddenly the fans were mobbing him. But West could just slip away because no one recognized him. And he liked that. At one time, when he was still young and naive and a little too full of himself, West had aspired to perform his own music in front of packed stadiums. Now he felt grateful—for the most part—to simply be the creative guy behind the scenes. Oh, he still played and sang for family and friends sometimes, but the limelight had lost its allure.
After an hour behind the wheel singing along to Christmas tunes, he was feeling pretty Christmassy—until he hit the Denver traffic. Suddenly, all good will toward men seemed to melt like the brown slush alongside the jam-packed multilane freeway. If this kept up, he might actually miss his flight. He chuckled. Maybe that would be a blessing in disguise. Except that his mom and sis would be disappointed, and he didn’t want that. He needed to pick it up.
Navigating his Jeep through bumper-to-bumper traffic, West remembered the years following his dad’s death—the way he and Mom and McKenzie became the three musketeers, banding together to squeak by on Mom’s meager wages as a hotel manager. Their little Christmases had never been fancy, but they stood out in memory as the sweetest ones ever. And they’d always made a point to be together at Christmas. But in Arizona . . . it wouldn’t be easy.
By the time he’d parked and was riding the shuttle to the terminal, West realized he’d made a huge mistake. Not in swapping his house for Christmas, although that was a doozy. But in his rush to get out of Breckenridge on time, and distracted by McKenzie’s disturbing last-minute phone call, he’d left his leather case of music at home. And not in his studio—where it would be relatively safe—but right out on the dining room table. In plain sight. He’d meant to grab it before heading out—then totally forgot!
He considered the options. The housekeeper, who’d nearly been finished before he left, would be long gone by now. He could call a neighbor and ask them to go by and pick up the case and have it sent to him—except that the Arizona house-swapping family was due to arrive this afternoon. For all he knew, they could be there by now. He wasn’t exactly worried they would snoop in his private things, most of which he’d stashed in a locked closet, but he needed those music sheets with him.
He had several songs in development right now. Ones that he’d promised to finish and deliver shortly after Christmas. His manager’s warning to quit putting songs down on paper but trust a computer instead rang through his mind. But West liked doing it the old-fashioned way.
As he hopped off the shuttle, he dug out his phone, hitting speed dial for Mom. “Where are you?” she asked with concern. “You should be here by now, West.”
“I am here,” he said quickly.
“Good. Then hurry to the gate. McKenzie and Jeremy and the boys just got here. And it looks like they’re getting ready to announce board—”
“I’m not even through security, Mom, but—”
“What on earth? How can you—”
“I got stuck in traffic, but it’s worse than that.” He quickly explained his dilemma. “I’ve got to go home and get my music. You know how important that is.”
“Yes, of course. You must get it.” She sounded disappointed.
“You guys go ahead and board your flight. I’ll catch a red-eye tonight. Or tomorrow if they’re booked. Or I’ll fly standby. Or something.”
“Oh, West, you’ve got to make it down there.” She lowered her voice. “It’s already disappointing not to be spending Christmas at your house in Breckenridge. McKenzie just told me about how you got it all decorated so nicely. But if you’re not in Arizona with us—well, it just won’t be Christmas.”
“I know, Mom. I’ll get down there somehow. Planes, trains, or automobiles.” He tried to sound nonchalant as he got back in line for the shuttle. “I might not be thrilled about Christmas with no snow, but I’ll do whatever it takes to be with you and McKenzie and everyone. I’ll be there.”
“I know you will. Just let me know your plans and when you’ll arrive.”
He boarded the shuttle and promised to keep her informed. As the bus chugged back to the parking lots, West got on his phone to set up a new flight and was immediately put on hold. The music was obnoxious, but he slipped in his earbud just the same. He would leave it on hold for as long as it took. Setting his personal feelings aside, he knew that somehow he had to make it down to Arizona for Christmas.
three
Emma couldn’t believe it. The trip had barely begun, and everything seemed to be going sideways. It started before they even boarded the plane. Mr. Landers was upset to discover a problem with the tickets. Although they’d gotten through security without a hitch, it came to their attention as they were boarding that only the Landerses’ tickets were for first class. Their guests, Emma and Harris, had been assigned to coach.
As Mr. Landers tried to sort it out on the phone with his assistant, Mrs. Landers argued with the woman at the gate, insisting they’d paid for six first-class tickets. “And that is what we want.”
“I’m happy to sit in coach,” Emma eagerly told them, hoping to smooth this thing over before it grew worse. “It’s a short flight. I don’t mind a bit.”
“But we booked first class,” Mrs. Landers insisted.
“The flight is booked full,” the woman firmly told her. “There are no available seats in first class. If you want to surrender any of your tickets, we have people waiting for standby, and it’s time for first class to start boarding.”
“No, we’re good.” Mr. Landers pocketed his phone. “My assistant just clarified that she could only secure four first-class seats and the other two are coach.”
“Coach works for me.” Emma nodded at the woman.
“Me too,” Harris chimed in.
Mr. Landers handed over the boarding passes with an apology. “Thanks for understanding.”
“Thanks for bringing us with you,” Emma said brightly. “Do you know this will be my first time to see real snow?”
“No kidding?” He grinned. “Well, you’re going to love it, Emma.”
“Well, I won’t love it.” Mrs. Landers frowned at her husband. “And I don’t like how this is starting out, Gary. It’s like a bad omen.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Lisa. It was just a little hiccup. And you heard them, Emma and Harris don’t mind flying coach.”
“Well, I mind.” She glanced around with a nervous expression. “I get the strongest feeling we should’ve stayed home for Christmas.”
“It’s going to be just fine,” Mr. Landers declared. “And look, it’s time for us to board.”
“Where are the kids?” Mrs. Landers looked around anxiously.
“Gillian’s getting a magazine,” Emma told her.
“And Grant’s using the little boys’ room,” Harris said.
Just as the older Landerses got in line, Gillian and Grant returned, getting in line behind them. Meanwhile, Emma and Harris waited.
“Come on,” Gillian called out to them.
“Not yet,” Emma said, realizing that Gillian probably didn’t know about the tickets yet. “We’ll see you soon.” She waved as Mr. Landers ushered his family through the line.
“Are you bummed about not flying first class?” Harris asked her.
“Not at all.” She smiled. “I’m just glad I get to go.”
“Is that true what you said—abo
ut never having seen snow?”
She nodded self-consciously.
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. My family’s not wealthy like Gillian’s. When we went on a vacation, it was always in a car, and never much beyond the Southwest. Although I have been to Florida to visit my grandmother.”
“So you obviously don’t know how to ski.”
“Obviously.”
“Do you think you’d like to learn?”
“I’d love to learn.”
“Are you athletic at all?” He studied her.
“I like to think so.” She told him about the sports she’d played in school. “And I work out three times a week.”
“You’ll be fine then.” He grinned. “I’m a good teacher.”
“Looks like our turn to board,” she said as their section was announced. Before long they were stowing carry-on bags and getting their seats. Hers was by the window and his was next to her. “This isn’t so bad.” She fastened her seat belt.
“Easy for you to say. I got the middle seat.”
“Want to trade?”
“No.” He shrugged. “I’ll be okay.”
Emma cringed as a woman and a wailing baby took the seat on the other side of Harris. “Sure you don’t want to trade seats?” she whispered.
He chuckled. “Thanks, but like you said, it’s not a long flight.” He moved a bit closer to her to make room for the woman struggling with her fussing baby and carry-on bag.
Emma gazed out the window, noticing the heat waves blurring the tarmac’s surface. “Looks like it’s warming up out there,” she said loudly enough to be heard over the crying infant.
“Might get up to eighty this week. Could break a record.” Harris turned to face her—or to escape the loud scene next to him.
“That makes me even happier to get to a cooler climate for Christmas.”
“You don’t like warm weather?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’ve never given it much thought. I mean, it’s all I’ve known. I was born in Tempe and I still live there.”
“Then you must be happy there.”
She shrugged. “Or just stuck.”
“Why stuck?”
As the plane taxied out in preparation for takeoff, she explained about her parents teaching in Uganda. “They let me live in their house. It’s just a little house, but they want to come back to it when they’re done. Like I said, my family is nothing like the Landers family. But I get to live rent free. And that means I don’t have to teach full time.”
“So you’re a teacher?”
She explained about getting on the substitute teachers’ list in her district. “Mostly high school. Middle school sometimes, but I try to avoid that if I can. It gets pretty grueling.”
“Then why do it? Teaching, I mean.”
She laughed. “To pay the bills. Only working part time gives me the chance to pursue my real passion.”
“What’s that?” His dark brows arched.
“Music.”
“Ah, you’re a musician.”
“Yeah, I like to think so.” She told him a bit about playing guitar and occasionally performing in local venues.
“So you must be pretty good.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” She grinned. “But you can.”
The flight attendant was going through the safety routine, and Emma pretended to read the instructions, but Harris just chuckled. “Do you have a flying phobia?” he whispered. “Need to hold my hand?”
Emma laughed. “No thanks, I’m fine.”
After takeoff, he asked her about Gillian. “How did you two become friends? No offense, but I don’t think I’ve ever known two friends who were more complete opposites.” His eyes twinkled. “Actually, I think that might be a compliment—to you.”
“Oh.” A light bulb went on. Harris was signaling her that he had no interest in Gillian. And was he flirting with her? This wouldn’t be good. “Well, there’s more to Gillian than meets the eye,” she said carefully.
“Uh-huh?” He nodded thoughtfully. “She’s not bad-looking, in that blonde, slave-to-fashion way. But I like your style better, Emma. Much more easygoing. Like you’re comfortable in your own skin.” He unzipped his jacket. “And you’re genuinely nice.”
“Uh, thanks. But Gillian is nice too.” She measured her words. “I know she comes across as, well, demanding at times. But she was sort of raised like that. High expectations, you know?”
“Sounds like you’re trying to paint her with a gentle brush.”
“No, I’m just trying to help you understand her.” She told him the story of how Gillian had come to Emma’s rescue in college. “I just couldn’t seem to find my way. Not directionally. But I’d sort of known who I was in high school. I fit in. So college made me feel lost. Gillian reached out to me and, although I was living at home, she invited me to join her sorority.”
“Oh . . . sorority sisters, I get it.”
“Not exactly. I mean, I did join, and it helped me to make some friends. But one night there was a party there, and, well, it got a little out of hand. I suppose I was in over my head. This guy was—well, you can probably guess—not so nice. And guess who came to my rescue?”
“Gillian?”
“Yes. She was like a mother bear. I suppose it sounds like I’m exaggerating, but it honestly felt like she saved my life at the time. I was still upset, and I didn’t want to go home. My parents are rather conservative and extremely overprotective. I knew they wouldn’t understand. But I didn’t want to stay in the sorority house either, so Gillian took me home with her. She drove us up to Scottsdale, and we stayed there all weekend, and I guess that’s when we first became friends.”
“Were you blown away with how wealthy her family is?”
“Yeah, I guess so. At first. But it’s been about fourteen years now. I’ve gotten used to it.”
“You and Gillian are still close friends?”
“Well, not as close as it might seem. I really don’t see that much of her. On holidays and things. But we live in different worlds.”
“Speaking of Gillian, here comes her brother.”
“Oh?” Emma looked up to see Grant maneuvering down the aisle toward them.
“You guys having fun slumming?” he teased.
“No complaints,” Emma shot back.
“Gillian suggested I come back and offer to switch seats. I guess she’s under the impression I’m a gentleman.” He laughed. “How about it?”
“I’m okay,” Emma said.
“I didn’t mean you, Emma.” Grant pointed to Harris. “You want to go sit in first class?”
“I’m fine,” Harris said a bit sharply.
Grant looked surprised, but before he could question this, the flight attendant asked him to move back to his seat so she could get the beverage cart through.
“Interesting,” Harris said. “Didn’t seem very gentlemanly to me.”
Emma didn’t know what to say. Gillian had obviously hoped to sit with Harris—in first class—until Denver. How would she react to discover he’d declined her brother’s generous offer?
“I guess that might be like the writing on the wall.” Harris put down his food tray. “Gillian wants her way . . . but I plan to stay put.”
Emma just nodded, wondering how she could smooth this over with Gillian later. “Uh-oh,” she whispered.
“Huh?” He looked at her.
“Here comes Gillian now.” Emma forced a smile for her friend.
“Hey, you two. My parents feel bad you got stuck back here in baggage.”
“It’s not exactly baggage,” Harris said lightly.
“Are you sure?” she asked him. “Looks pretty tight to me. Anyway, since Harris didn’t want to come up to first class to stretch his legs, well, I think you should go, Emma.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I’m okay.”
“My parents feel like it’s only fair,” Gillian insisted. “I promised you first class, Emma.” She
placed a hand on the mom’s shoulder. “You don’t mind getting up for my friend, do you?” She smiled brightly.
“I guess not.” The woman struggled to unbuckle her seat belt, then forced her baby onto Gillian. “With a little help.”
“What?” Gillian’s eyes grew wide.
As the baby cried, Harris looked helplessly at Emma.
“You better hurry, Harris.” Gillian shoved the baby back toward the waiting mother. “Let Emma out before the beverage cart comes back. Come on, Emma, you’re moving on up, girlfriend.”
Not knowing a graceful way out of this, Emma tugged her purse from under the seat and followed Harris out to the aisle so that Gillian could take the window seat. The baby continued to cry, and the displaced mom looked very irritated. Even laid-back Harris seemed perplexed as he slid back into the middle seat. But Gillian appeared obliviously pleased with her new seating arrangement. Emma gave them all a little wave, then hurried up to first class, where—no surprise—Grant had an empty seat and a wide smile waiting for her.
“Welcome to leg room,” he said.
“Thanks.” She sat. “It is better up here.”
“Worth the effort, don’t you think?”
“I just hope Gillian doesn’t mind how cramped it is back there.”
“Oh, Gil won’t mind.” His eyes twinkled like he was in on the joke. “And I just ordered you a champagne. It’s complimentary, you know. So when the attendant sets it down, don’t be surprised if it tells you how pretty you look.”
“Huh?” Emma blinked.
“It’s complimentary.” He chuckled. “Get it?”
“Oh, yeah.” She couldn’t control herself from rolling her eyes this time. “It’s been a while, Grant. I guess I totally forgot your sense of humor.”
“Great. I’ll entertain you some more.”
For the next hour and a half, she listened to Grant either telling lame jokes or more about investment finances than she ever wanted to know. At least the seat was comfy. Better yet, Gillian was happy—Emma hoped. And, really, Emma felt relieved to be away from Harris. Certainly, he was nice enough. But just a bit too interested in her. And that would not make for a happy holiday with Gillian. Besides that, Harris wasn’t Emma’s type. She wasn’t sure why that was exactly, but she felt pretty certain of it. Still, it had been entertaining to visit with him—better than being talked to death by Grant. Hopefully this wasn’t a forecast of the upcoming week. At least there would be snow.
The Christmas Swap Page 2
