“We do,” I say again. “I can’t wait to see their faces in the morning.”
Chapter 26
Allie
“He caaaame!” screams Lottie, launching herself onto my bed with Christmas stocking in hand.
It takes me a moment and four deep blinks to realize where I am, what day it is, and what she’s talking about. Remind me never to drink on Christmas Eve again. It was only a couple of glasses, but I can feel it in the dryness of my mouth and the fuzziness of my head as I push myself up to sit on the bed beside Lottie.
“Look!” calls Emma.
Outside the bedroom door, I can see her dragging her stocking along behind her. Laughing, I grab my phone to snap a quick picture before helping Emma to get herself and her stocking up onto the bed.
There are whoops and squeals as they pull out the trinkets and treats I’ve stuffed in their stockings. I think their excitement is infectious because I actually feel relatively content this morning. More than I was expecting, at any rate.
Lottie looks up at me, beaming with delight, and bobs her head from side to side to show me how the stars on her new hairband bounce around.
“Wow!” I grin. “That’s so cool!”
Once their stockings are emptied, we all head to the bathroom to clean up and get dressed. Last year I made the mistake of letting them get downstairs and open their gifts first. Never again. They were still in pajamas and playing with their new toys five minutes before we had to leave for dinner.
In an effort to make myself feel better, I’m wearing a Santa hat, a chunky cream sweater, and a mid-thigh tartan red skirt over woolly black tights and knee-high boots. I let the girls choose their own outfits today, so Emma is wearing a purple and blue tutu over leggings with a t-shirt that has a pug’s face on it. Lottie has opted for thick tights with a dinosaur-print dress my mom made for her last year.
There’s a flurry of activity in the hall as Sadie, Eddie, and the kids appear from their room. The kids are all bright-eyes and sunbeams, desperate to get downstairs and see what Santa’s left for them. Sadie, Eddie, and I trudge along behind them, bleary-eyed but smiling at the chaos unfolding around us.
“Look, Mommy!” shouts Lottie. Every time she opens something, she is absolutely overwhelmed with joy.
I didn’t manage to get them everything I wanted to, and River and Finn have a few more gifts than my girls, but the unbridled happiness that comes pouring out of them every time they open a new gift brings tears to my eyes. They really are great kids.
When they’ve opened all their gifts, and the adults are no longer required to sit and look surprised and amazed with each new reveal, Sadie heads into the kitchen to brew some coffee while Eddie and I collect the discarded bows, boxes, and wrapping paper.
“It’s magical, huh?” asks Eddie, nodding toward the kids.
I look over at them, all happily playing with their new toys. River and Lottie are laughing and chasing River’s new robot dog around the room, Emma is putting a plastic ice-cream together with her new kitchen playset, and Finn is laying on his stomach, his tongue poking out as he concentrates with all his might on clicking his Legos together.
“Ah, to be a kid again,” I smile.
“You okay?” he asks, looking at me with a note of concern.
Christmas isn’t easy for any of us since Libby’s accident, and everyone knows that this year will be particularly tough for me.
“Yeah,” I say, tying up the bag in my hands. I swallow down the lump in my throat and smile over at him. “I have a big brother who cares enough to ask me if I’m okay,” I wink.
“Daaaad…” calls River.
We both turn around to see her standing at the window, looking out over the twinkling front lawn.
“What’s that?” she jabs a finger at the window.
“What?” asks Eddie, tying the last of the wrapping paper up in a garbage bag.
“That big sack,” says River.
The other kids have joined her at the window. I glance over at Eddie, he shrugs back at me, and we both head over to the window to see what’s going on.
Out in the yard, just inside the gate, there’s a giant, red velvet sack. The top is tied with a gold ribbon, and there’s a card hanging off the bow.
I glance up at Eddie, and he looks down at me and shrugs again.
“Mom and Dad, maybe?” he says, but we’re both a little skeptical. This isn’t really their style. And they’ll be here later for dinner anyway—why send a sack of presents ahead?
“I want to see!” says River, running out to the hall and grabbing up her hat and coat. We all follow suit, kids and adults alike, Eddie running into the kitchen to alert Sadie of the mystery sack that has appeared on their front lawn. Once we’ve all pulled on our boots and coats and flung our scarves around our necks, we tromp out onto the snowy front lawn.
River, as the first one to spot the sack, demands that she be the one to read the card. She reaches up, grabs the card, pulls it down in front of her face, and peers at it.
“It’s for Lottie and Emma!” she calls.
Lottie gasps.
Sure enough, it does say “For Lottie and Emma,” on the card. There’s nothing else, and no “From.”
“Mommy, can we look inside?” asks Lottie, her eyes huge as she looks up at me.
“Just a sec,” I say, apprehensively. I’m not one to worry and believe all sorts of strange horror stories, but I don’t know where the sack has come from, and I’m not about to let them dig into it without checking what’s inside. I undo the beautiful golden bow that’s wrapped around the top, and then—with a little more nervousness than I outwardly show—I pull it open.
Presents. There are presents inside. All different shapes and sizes, and wrapped with all different kinds of wrapping paper and glitter and bows.
I pull one out and shake it. It sounds innocuous enough. The card says “Lottie,” so I crouch down beside her and stay very close while she opens it, using my hand to coax her into holding it at a slight distance.
“Oh my goodness!” she cries when she realizes what it is. It’s the same robot dog she’s been chasing around with River all morning. I almost gasp myself. This particular robot dog is this year’s big thing, and by the time I was done moping over Greyson they were out of stock everywhere I looked.
I stay close for a few more gifts, a couple for Lottie and a couple for Emma, and once I’m satisfied that there’s nothing sinister about the sack and its contents I let them carry on and go to stand with Sadie and Eddie.
“Did you do this?” I whisper.
They both look at me, shaking their heads.
“Hot dog!” cries Emma with delight. “Mommy it’s from Santa!”
I look down at her and she’s holding a painted wooden hot dog in her hands. My mind is ripped right back to the Christmas grotto, to the image of Emma sitting on Greyson’s knee, happily swinging her legs and asking Santa to deliver her a hot dog on Christmas Day, and my throat is suddenly tight.
“Look! This one’s for you, Mommy!” calls Lottie.
She’s holding a little box in her hand, about the size of a deck of playing cards, and she brings it over to me.
“What the…” I lift up the card with slightly shaky hands and see only one word printed on it: “Allie.”
I glance at Eddie and Sadie with a confused frown and they both nod for me to open the gift. I unwrap it carefully, pulling out a velvet-covered box from inside, and pop it open.
Sadie gasps beside me. “Is that…”
“Mommy, Mommy, let me see!” says Lottie, jumping up and down to try and look inside the box.
I’m frozen to the spot, completely speechless, and my mind is reeling.
Laying there on a silk cushion inside the box, held in place with a matching silk bow, is the key to Sunrise Valley House.
I’d recognize the intricate metalwork anywhere, but instead of the ancient, half-rusted key I had before, it looks brand new. It’s either a cop
y or it’s been cleaned up. And now it’s here, in my hands.
“What’s the card say?” asks Eddie.
It’s only then that I notice the little tag that’s attached to the key. I lift it up and there are tiny gold letters embossed into the thick paper:
USE ME
I have no idea what’s happening. My feet begin to tingle, my head is light… I feel like Alice, tumbling down the rabbit hole into Wonderland. What does it mean? Does it mean Greyson is… giving me the house?
No.
He sold it.
Unless he didn’t?
But then why were there moving trucks outside? And it’s too big for me and the girls—I can’t afford to run a house that size. And can I really accept this after what happened between us? What should I do?
“Allie?” asks Sadie. Her voice is distant and muffled as it pushes through the chatter in my head. It sounds like it’s not the first time she’s tried to get my attention.
I turn my head towards her and stare. The world feels unreal, like everything is a million miles away.
“We can watch the kids a while,” she says.
Her meaning is as plain as day. I look down at the little box sitting on my upturned palm again.
I’m elated.
And sad.
And overjoyed.
And furious.
The emotions all churn inside me at once. I’m more confused than ever, but I have to go. I have to see.
I have to have some closure.
“Yeah,” I say to Sadie, nodding. “Thanks.”
I’m not sure how I managed to get to Sunrise Valley House in my dreamlike state. But here I am, turning into the driveway in my clapped out little car with my heart beating so fast it’s practically a hum.
I stop halfway along the drive when the house comes into view. There’s something different about the place, and given the absolutely flummoxed emotional state I’m in, it takes me way longer than it should to realize what it is. As my addled mind catches up with my eyes, I give a little yelp of surprise.
It’s yellow. The main body of the house has been painted yellow. THE yellow. The one I kept telling Greyson to use. It looks just as beautiful as I hoped it would.
That’s not all. There are Christmas lights twinkling along the top of the porch, and I can see lights inside as well, and the shadow of a big Christmas tree just inside the window.
My bemused frown grows deeper. I can’t see any other cars anywhere. Is this all for me? I pick up the little box and get out of my car, slamming the door behind me as I walk toward the house.
When I slide the glittering new key into the lock and turn it, the familiar clanking sound stops me short. The last time I heard it was the last time I saw Greyson, and I have to pause for a moment to swallow down the lump in my throat, before stepping into the house.
“Oh, my God,” I gasp.
The hallway looks completely different, and it’s spectacular. There’s a big, thick rug on the floor and new furniture around the edges. The side table has an old-style phone sitting on it, and there’s a little Christmas tree full of twinkling fiber-optic lights beside it. The feel of the place is modern, but it pays homage to the grand old Queen Anne architecture.
I’ve been holding my breath, I realize, when I start feeling light-headed again. But when I do inhale, my nostrils are filled with the scent of coffee and baking. And there’s music floating into the hall from the kitchen, the door of which is open just a crack.
I close the space between myself and the door with two long strides and reach for the handle. The music is more distinct now, and very familiar:
“If you like Pina Coladas,
And getting caught in the rain…”
The dulcet tones of Rupert Holmes’ voice are drowned out by the sound of blood rushing past my ears as my heart starts thundering in my chest again. I push the door open a crack more. The kitchen is totally different; the cabinets have been replaced, the stovetop is new, and all the counters are now a beautiful black marble. And there, standing beside the oven with his back to me, is Greyson.
He’s moving steaming croissants from a baking tray onto a plate, swaying his hips to the upbeat music playing behind him. And he looks... ridiculous. He’s wearing a bright red and green knit Christmas sweater with an elf on the back, and a pair of reindeer antlers just like the ones I was wearing the day we met.
The chorus of the song kicks in, and he starts singing along:
“If you like being a banana… and getting caught in the rain…”
I can’t help myself. He looks so ridiculous, and the sound of him singing Emma’s lyrics is just too much. I snort a laugh, and he immediately snaps his head around and looks right at me.
I’m rumbled.
To his credit, he doesn’t smile at me, or act like everything is fine and he can simply pick up where we left off. Instead, he reaches over and clicks off the speaker, turns to face me, and takes a deep breath.
“Sorry,” he says. “I thought it’d take longer for anyone to notice the sack.”
I want to run to him and jump into his arms. And I want to scream at him and stomp my feet. I don’t trust myself to say anything yet, so I just stare at him, my smile gone, waiting.
“Allie, I—”
As soon as he starts, I find my voice.
“Why are you here?” I ask, finally stepping into the kitchen. My voice is harsher than I want to be. Probably not as harsh as he deserves.
I fold my arms over my chest.
I still don’t understand what’s going on. I don’t know why he’s here, why the house is yellow, or why the inside is suddenly so warm and homey.
He frowns, looks down at his feet, and swallows.
“Allie,” he says, stepping around the counter and moving a few paces toward me.
My heart does a victory dance in my chest, and my brain tells it to pipe the fuck down.
“Please, just… listen,” he says.
I keep my arms folded and jut out my chin, giving him a nod to speak.
“God, you’re sexy when you’re pissed,” he says, a hint of a smile on his face.
“Don’t push your luck, Greyson,” I warn him. “Say what you have to say.”
His smile drops and he nods, reaching up to scratch nervously at the back of his head.
“Did you see the house?” he asks. “Before?”
“Of course I saw the house before, I helped you t—”
“No,” he cuts in. “Not back then. I mean before yesterday.”
I realize what he’s asking. “It was grey,” I reply, warily.
“Everything was grey,” he says, taking another step. He’s within arm’s reach now. “Allie, everything’s been grey in my life for a very long time. But I didn’t know it. I didn’t realize I was living this half-lived life, afraid of getting close to anyone in case I hurt them, and I—”
He cuts off when I snort derisively.
“I know,” he says, his face imploring. “I know I did a shitty thing, and I will never, ever stop being sorry for it. Not ever. But I need you to know that you ruined me. You ruined everything about the life I had before I met you. Because when I was with you, I lived in glorious technicolor for the first time in as long as I can remember. And I loved it. I loved it. I loved... I love. I love, love, love you. I love you, Alora Brooks.”
I’m still standing with my arms folded and my chin out, but I can feel tears springing to my eyes and my bottom lip quivering.
“Let me love you,” he says. “Please.”
“I let you close to the girls,” I say, and the first tear finally falls down my cheek. “And you hurt them.”
“Never again,” he says quickly. The look on his face is dead serious. “Never, ever again. I want to be there for every school play, every birthday, every holiday. I want…”
He trails off and steps closer, running his finger along my cheek to wipe away the tear.
“Come with me,” he says, holding out his hand. �
�Let me show you something.”
I hesitate.
“Please.”
I can feel my resolve weakening with every word he speaks. I hold out my hand and he pulls me back into the hall and up the stairs. The whole house is beautiful, but when he leads me to the door at the end of the hallway and pushes it open, I’m struck dumb.
There are two beds in the middle of the room, each carved in the shape of a different dinosaur, and draped with pale blue netting. There are toy shelves and bookshelves along each wall, wardrobes painted with chalkboard paint, and a desk in the corner with twinkle lights strung all over it. It’s a child’s bedroom. A magnificent, wondrous child’s bedroom.
I look across at Greyson and he’s staring at me intently, as though he’s feasting on my reaction.
“You did this?” I ask.
“Mostly,” he says. “I had some help from a designer friend who owed me a favor. Come on.”
He grabs my hand again, pulls me back into the landing, and pushes open another nearby door.
“My office,” he says. “I work here now. Permanently.”
I don’t have time to do anything but stare up at him, open-mouthed, before he leads me back down the stairs. He takes me all the way through the house to the back door and outside.
We traipse in silence through the patchy snow until we reach the outbuilding, right beside the tap where we had our first kiss. Greyson reaches into his pocket and pulls out a ring of keys. He flips through them until he finds the right one, then opens the padlock on the door and pulls it off.
“Look,” he says, standing back, nodding to the door.
I give him a questioning glance and push the door open all the way. Greyson reaches inside and pulls a cord attached to the ceiling, and the whole place lights up.
“What the…” I say, taking a few steps inside.
The inside of the building has been insulated and paneled, and it actually manages to look bigger on the inside than it does from the outside. There’s a desk in the corner with a laptop and what looks like a large flatscreen beside it; I recognize it as the most highly-regarded (and expensive) drawing tablet on the market. Behind the desk, there’s a tall easel, and beside it a storage unit.
My Smalltown C.E.O. Scrooge: A Festive Romantic Comedy Page 18
