A Christmas to Remember

P
ublished
by Bookouture

A
n imprint of StoryFire Ltd
. 23 Sussex Road, Ickenham, UB10 8PN. United Kingdom.

w
ww.bookouture.com

C
opyright © Jennifer
Hale 2014

J
ennifer Hale
has asserted
her
right to be identified as the author of this work.

A
ll rights reserved
. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publishers.

T
his book is
a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events other than those clearly in the public domain, are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

A
big thank
you to my wonderful husband, Justin, who picks up all the pieces while I meet my deadlines. He is the rock that keeps it all together.

Thank you to Oliver Rhodes for his guidance, support, and amazing ideas throughout this creative process. I am so lucky to be a part of it.

To my editor, Kate Ahl, who knows how to build me up and challenge me to create the very best version of my story that I can write, I thank you.

F
or Tia
,

who has been there for me since childhood.

P
eople under stress
can benefit from doing something familiar. The predictability of the task will sometimes ease one’s anxiety
.

Carrie highlighted the passage in her book and closed it. With a deep breath, she set it on the passenger seat of the car next to a half-empty box of candy canes she’d bought at a border store between North Carolina and Virginia on her way to her next job.

Growing up in a small town in North Carolina, Carrie’s life had been very predictable. She went to school with friends in her neighborhood, and every afternoon—even on the coldest days—her mother would wait on the swing of their long, front porch for her to get off the bus. On Wednesday nights she had soccer practice during the warm months, and on Tuesdays she had dance practice during the cold ones. When it was snowing—like it was now—she and her parents would go sleigh riding down the big hill in her front yard, and her father would bring in logs from the back porch and start a fire in their stone fireplace to warm them up afterward. She and her friends would sit in front of the flickering flames their legs stretched out, their fuzzy socks all in a row while her mother brought them mugs of hot cocoa. Her life had been predictable, but she had lots of warm memories.

And now Carrie sat in her car, far away from all that was familiar and predictable. She’d taken this job in Virginia because her new boss, Adam Fletcher, had offered her a considerable amount of money—more than what she’d made at her last job. And it was temporary, only lasting through New Year’s. Even though it went against everything she felt she wanted, Carrie had decided that this would be her last nanny job before moving on to something else. She needed to see what life had to offer, and being a nanny made it difficult to do that. She was always with
other
people’s children. She needed time to build
her
life if she ever wanted to have a family of her own. So, she’d have a fun trip to Virginia, and then, she’d focus on her New Year’s resolution: finding another career.

Carrie felt anxious every time she started a new nanny position. She didn’t know the kids yet or the manner in which the parents would expect her to manage the children. She always had her own way of making it all work out, though. Being a nanny was what she knew. She was great at it, and, once she got her bearings, she felt confident with her decisions when it came to children. It didn’t matter what type of child she was given at the beginning—whiney, rambunctious, needy, anxious—she had a natural ability to help them through whatever it was, and by the time she left, they were happy, healthy, lovely children. She was able to change them because she knew that the job was more than just watching them. The parents didn’t always understand that, but she knew it, which was all that mattered. Carrie never felt comfortable until she’d been at a position a few days—when she’d had enough time to get a feeling for the atmosphere in the home and the personalities of the children. But once she felt comfortable, she could be quite outspoken about what was best for the kids.

She looked out the window. The snow was coming down all around her, and she could feel the chill of winter slipping into the car. The sky was a seamless white, blurring with the snow-covered ground. All the houses on this street were brick—their red and brown surfaces the only color against the blank canvas of snow. Even the street was covered, and the snow was falling so quickly that it hid the tire tracks nearly as fast as they could be created by passing cars. Carrie looked at the white expanse through her windshield, letting the quiet scene calm her, just as her cell phone lit up on the seat, her new “Jingle Bells” ringtone shrill against the surrounding silence. She grabbed it before she’d even looked at the number.

“Hello?” she said, closing her eyes and cringing because she’d been impulsive in answering—she only had a few minutes left before she had to be on the Fletchers’ doorstep. She hoped the call wasn’t a long one. Trying to rush someone off the phone would only frazzle her, and she didn’t want to be frazzled on day one.

“Hi. Is this Carrie Blake?”

“Yes.”

“It’s Adam Fletcher.”

She sat up straight, every inch of her body on high alert, her heart pounding with anxiety. Adam, her new boss, had an authoritative voice, the kind that made her want to put her best foot forward, the kind that made her overanalyze every single word that came out of her mouth just to be sure she’d made a good impression. He was also in the house right beside her.

“Hello,” she said, not knowing what to say next.

“Is that you outside, sitting in your car?”

She didn’t want to look over at the house for fear that she’d make eye contact with him through a window. She’d been sitting outside for the last five minutes, waiting for her watch to tick over to four thirty, which was the precise time he’d asked her to come by. She didn’t want to be early or late, so she’d driven there in enough time to give herself a few minutes to spare. She’d sat in her car, reading her most recent purchase:
Managing Anxiety: How to Overcome Life’s Little Worries
.

“I was waiting for four thirty,” she said honestly.

“Well, it’s freezing. Please hang up and come in.”

“Okay…Bye.” She clicked off her phone and dropped it into her handbag, embarrassment creeping in faster than the cold air outside. How ridiculous must she look sitting outside in the car? How long had he watched her? Had he seen her reading, catching the drips on her coffee cup with her bottom lip as they slid underneath the lid? The humiliation made her temples ache. The snow was collecting in large quantities now at the base of her windshield. Carrie pulled her coat up around her chin and turned the engine off, the snow falling so hard that it was coming down sideways, dropping flakes the size of quarters onto her car. With her hands wrapped around her coffee cup, she drank the last sip as she looked across the wide, snow-filled yard to the house that would be her residence for the upcoming weeks.

The house was easily in the multi-million dollar range. Houses in this part of Richmond weren’t cheap, and this one had to be somewhere at the top of the list. The whole thing was painted brick—white like the snow—which set it apart from the other homes nearby. It had wings on each side, and, as she squinted to see through the falling snowflakes, it looked like an original slate roof. It was still in the city, but outside of the downtown area enough that it had a yard and sidewalks lined with trees. The road snaked alongside the James River like an old friend, bending and turning just the same. Every home on this road was bigger than Carrie had ever seen in real life, and the expansive lot at the Fletchers’ made the house seem even bigger. She’d never worked in a home that grand before.

Adam Fletcher had seemed a bit formal, but he was pleasant, and had given her no indication that he was so wealthy.
Why would he, though
? she thought. She wasn’t even inside yet and her hands were jittering all over the place. She fumbled her empty coffee cup, sending it into the air, but she caught it and set it in the cup holder, glancing over to the windows to ensure he hadn’t seen.

Getting coffee had been her “something familiar.” She’d read that when she was anxious, she should do something familiar to ease her nerves. Since she’d arrived in Richmond earlier than expected, she drove through the city, squeezing down narrow side streets and following the small city blocks until she’d found a coffee shop. Even with the time she’d spent trying to get a parking spot, when half the parallel spots were full of plowed snow, she’d been able to stop for a cup of coffee. It was an unfussy, little shop with burlap bags of coffee against the counter, the whole place smelling of roasted beans. There were a few quaint wooden tables and chairs nestled in the corner against a chalkboard full of pastel lettering. Noticing the time, she passed on sitting at the little table, although she’d wanted to, and took her coffee to go. The coffee hadn’t helped to calm her, though. Perhaps she hadn’t picked the right familiar thing to do. With children, Carrie was a natural—but in her own life, she felt helpless.

When it came to her personal life, Carrie felt as though she could never quite get it right. And this time of year was always the worst. At Christmas, when everyone spent time with their families, she either spent her time working, or she went home to her mother and father. While she loved her parents dearly, she wanted her own family to come home to. She wanted children, a loving husband—a family with whom she could make new memories as perfect as those of her childhood. She wanted a giant Christmas tree and stockings on the fireplace. She wanted to make cookies for Santa and catch her kids peeking at the presents under the tree. But the more she worked, the more hopeless she felt because she just didn’t know how to achieve what she wanted.

Ten years ago, when she was twenty-three, Carrie had graduated with an early childhood degree and jumped right into her first nanny position quickly. She found that she was fairly successful as a live-in nanny, and she enjoyed it, so that was what she’d spent the past decade doing. She’d taken the kids to the park in the summer, eating picnic lunches on blankets, flying kites in the breeze. She’d taken them ice skating at the outdoor rinks, laughing with them as they attempted to stand, looking like Bambi on ice, their little legs slipping out from under them. She’d made muffins for breakfast with them and homemade bread for dinner. She’d painted, constructed, colored, and cut—each creation so unique and perfect that she struggled to take it off the refrigerator when it got old. She loved being a nanny. The only problem with it was that now, at the age of thirty-three, having worked around the clock every single day and night with other families, she’d never had the chance to have a life outside of work. She hadn’t dated anyone seriously, and she hadn’t been able to learn who she wanted to be.

Her closest friends had all moved in a different direction from her. They had six-figure jobs and lively social lives, taking them places she’d only ever seen on television, and they dated wealthy men. A few of them had married already and were now starting their own, perfect families. She couldn’t relate to her friends anymore, and she felt different from them. She struggled to find someone who understood her world. It was a strange place to be because what she loved—caring for children—had alienated her from the people she used to know.

Carrie had read enough self-help books to know that she wasn’t happy, but she wasn’t sure exactly how to change that. What she did know was that if she ever wanted to have her own life, and the possibility of her own family, she’d have to eventually find a job that had regular working hours, where she could work with people over the age of five and come home at a decent hour. She’d gotten college course catalogs from some of the colleges back home, and she’d leafed through a few of them, but when she did, she always put them down and picked up one of her self-help books to try and define the muddle of feelings she was having.

Looking through the possible majors, she just couldn’t find one that fit. Nothing fit like her early childhood degree had fit. Perhaps she could get a second endorsement and teach elementary school, she often thought. But even that wasn’t the same as scooping up a child, spinning him around and kissing his cheeks. She wouldn’t be able to do that in an elementary school. And watching children during working hours wouldn’t allow her to maintain the income she was used to. She couldn’t find something that she wanted to do in life except a job that denied her all the other things she wanted. It made her feel like something was wrong with her, as if she wasn’t as together as her friends.

There wasn’t anyone she could talk to about her insecurities. Her parents, while supportive, just told her to choose something else and do it. Neither of them had jobs they loved, and they said that she may have to
settle
on a job like they had. But she didn’t want to settle. She’d lost touch with a lot of her college friends after they’d moved on. She moved around so much as she changed nanny jobs that she hadn’t really made any new friends. It all left her feeling lost, so she turned to experts to help her: all the authors of her self-help books. She’d learned about things like how to focus when under pressure, how to fall asleep quickly, and how not to organize a closet, but no matter how much she read, she found something else about herself that needed fixing.

This was to be her last job, and then, if she didn’t find something else she really wanted to do, she would just have to settle. But right now, it was time to face her new family and get over her nerves. Like getting into a cold pool: just jump in. She opened the door and stepped into the frigid air. The wind blew at her in frosty gusts, slithering down her coat collar despite her new striped scarf. She lumped a few things into her handbag, pulled it close to her body for extra warmth, and trudged across the yard, her head down to keep the snow out of her face.

When she got to the driveway, her nose was like ice, and she knew it must be as red as Rudolph’s, but if she tried to powder it, certainly the makeup would turn to mud on her wet, snow-pelted face, so she clomped her way through the rest of the snow until she reached the front door. Sitting at the top of three very wide, brick steps was a black door as shiny as the house’s shutters, with a brass door knocker in the center. On either side was a row of single window panes that stretched from the top of the door all the way down to the porch. The light was on inside, and she had to take a deep breath to steady her nerves.

She had every reason to feel confident—she’d been a successful nanny for many years, her name had spread by word of mouth all over the place, and she’d been thrilled to find that it had even spread across state lines. Her last nanny job had been in North Carolina, so when she’d gotten the call from Mr. Fletcher in Virginia, she could hardly believe it.
Look confident, even if you don’t feel confident. Square your shoulders, smile, and nod
. Her book,
Confidence Matters
, had told her what to do, but it didn’t help to hide the red splotches she knew she’d have going down her neck when she had to take her coat and scarf off. She got them every time she was nervous, and, after seeing this house, they’d probably crawled up her face as well.