A Christmas to Remember (4 page)

S
peak confidently
. Confidence is key in making favorable first impressions.

“Let me just grab a few beers on the way in.” Adam closed the garage door, shutting out the drifting snow, and set her suitcases down. “Do you like beer, by chance?” he asked. He led her to a stainless steel refrigerator-like contraption on the far wall of the garage. With a tug on the handle, the door opened, revealing rows upon rows of brown, long-necked bottles. They had trendy yellow and red labels that read
Salty Shockoe
. Carrie followed the curly S’s with her eyes, noting the detail in the lettering.

The truth was she actually did like beer. Back in college, she’d been the only one of her friends who really, truly preferred it to other drinks. She would come home on the weekends and watch football with her dad. He always let her pick the beer, and their visits to the supermarket to get snacks before games were fond memories. As they sat on the sofa together, her mother would plop down beside them, wrinkle her nose at their bottles, watch a few minutes of the game and then busy herself with something else, but Carrie could stay there all day. She hadn’t recalled a memory like that in quite a while. It made her feel nostalgic and lonely at the same time.

She’d never seen this particular brand of beer before, but Carrie had heard how Richmond was known for its craft beers and microbrews. It had been featured on a travel show on TV once. It seemed fitting now that she’d seen Richmond with all its historical buildings and casual feel. The whole city had a rustic quality to it. Brick buildings, cobblestone streets still in place, front porches. Just like a good beer, Richmond was hearty, its culture evident and strong, rich with flavor and history.

“I do like beer,” she said, wondering why Adam had so many bottles. He was very wealthy, and he could afford to stockpile his favorite beer if he wanted to. But when did he have time to drink it? Perhaps that’s why there were still so many in the fridge. Did he drink it alone in that airy office of his? The idea made her look at him a little differently. Was he as lonely as she was? Did he work too much just like her?

“You
do
like beer?” He looked surprised. Then she thought about what he probably saw when he looked at her: her light brown hair tucked behind her ears, her colorless lip gloss, her frumpy sweater. She probably didn’t look like she ever went out a day in her life. It had been so long since she’d had any opportunity to go out, she’d sort of forgotten about herself and what she must look like to other people. The feelings of inadequacy stirred inside her.

With children, she didn’t have to worry about how she looked or what she said. With adults, she had to be more careful, think more about how they may view her, and it made her uneasy. Compounding her uneasiness was the fact that she knew once she found a different career and actually had the time to go out, she didn’t feel comfortable having drinks with strangers or going to bars to meet people. She just wanted that one person who would love her in her frumpy sweater and bunchy socks with spit up on her shoulder. Finding that one person, though, seemed exhausting. It had been different when she was in college—she could go out to bars with all her friends and meet people with no problem, but now, in her thirties, when everyone else she knew was settled down in careers and families, there wasn’t anyone to go out with, and certainly far fewer people to meet in her age range. She worried that working professionals who frequented bars in the city probably didn’t have very much in common with her. No one would understand her kind of life. It seemed hopeless.

Adam shut the door to the refrigerator. “Follow me. I’ll get you some supper and you can try this.” He held up one of the bottles. Was he going to have a drink with her? What would she say to him? How could she make conversation? She’d been out of the game too long to know how to talk to a man with no children pulling on her attention. Perhaps they could talk about David and Olivia, she thought. But what would she say once that conversation had died down? She didn’t know much about the area or anything about him. A prickle of nervousness pelted her skin. She’d only just gotten there, she kept telling herself, so it would take a little while for her to become comfortable and assertive. But she would eventually relax. Right?

Carrie followed Adam down the hallway until they reached the kitchen. The smell of something cooking in the oven made her tummy rumble. Natalie and the children weren’t there. She guessed that the children must have already finished supper and were on their way to their baths, and she felt a little sad that she couldn’t share her meal with them. Meals were the best time to talk to each other. It would have been a perfect time to get to know them. While she was glad to have the chance to learn more about Adam, she wondered why he hadn’t spent much time with them. Why was he having a drink with her when he could’ve eaten supper with the children, played with them, gotten them ready for bed himself?

Adam popped the top off one of the bottles and poured out a small amount. “It’s better in a glass the first time you drink it. You can taste it better,” he said, handing it to her.

When the froth had fizzled, she took a sip. It was really good. The flavor of it took her right back to all those weekends with her dad: the team jerseys they wore on game day, tossing footballs in the backyard after the game, the smell of burgers on the grill. Those memories were so rich, so happy, that she felt sad because she hadn’t had anything like that in years. Would she ever have her own family to make memories like those?

“What do you think?” he asked, taking a sip from his own bottle.

“It’s delicious,” she said. Her memories and the beer had calmed her significantly.
Familiar
, she thought with a grin.
I’ll bet that’s what my book had meant
. She turned the bottle around in her hand and peered down at the label. “I’ve never had this brand before. I like the label,” she said out loud by accident. This was why she shouldn’t go out and try to meet people, she thought, because she ended up talking about beer labels. Her skills in being alluring and interesting were horrifying.

Politely, Adam looked down at his bottle, studying it. “I don’t know. I’m not sure about all the white space there,” he said, pointing to the label. He was clearly trying to make her stupid comment seem relevant, but she knew good and well what a ridiculous topic she’d started. She should have known better. She’d read a book about how to handle social interactions with strangers:
Smile. When the stranger begins to speak, listen by making eye contact. Head nodding is often an appropriate response to show interest.
At the time she’d read it, it had sounded ridiculous, and she’d thought any idiot would know that. Now, she mentally retracted that statement. She didn’t want to contemplate the fact that she’d just fallen into the “Idiot” category.

But he didn’t really seem that bothered by the conversation, so she continued. “Wouldn’t it look nice with some green on the white background? Maybe for Christmas,” she smiled. Adam pursed his lips and nodded as if contemplating her suggestion.
Either he’s great at hiding boredom, or he’s really into this beer
, she thought.

“I think you’re right. I’ll let my graphics guy know. Maybe we’ll make you a special bottle.”

“Sorry?” Suddenly, she felt the heat of splotches spreading across her neck. What did Adam have to do with this beer? The whole time she was talking, was she giving opinions on a beer that he’d designed? She mentally scrambled to recall her exact words. What had she said to him? Thank God she hadn’t said it was terrible!

“I own Shockoe Brewery downtown. This is my beer,” he smiled.

He didn’t design the labels. He owned the whole thing! She was putting it together now. That explained all the beer in his garage. She’d seen an ad on a billboard for Shockoe Brewery on her way into Richmond. It had had a picture of the inside of the facility. It was massive, with a stainless steel brew kettle behind glass, and in the center, a fancy-looking restaurant. Getting a beer there would be a very different experience from the grocery store trips she’d made with her dad. As she looked at Adam, even though he was in a sweater and jeans, holding a beer in the dim evening light of his kitchen, she could see experience and intelligence radiating from him. He was different from anyone she’d ever known, but there was something about him that was so intriguing that she had to use all her self-control not to stare at him.

With a pair of potholders, he retrieved a steaming dish of lasagna from the top of a stainless steel double oven and set it down on the counter. “I thought you’d like something for supper, so I made this. Since my soufflé didn’t turn out, I may have some with you, if that’s all right.” He set a serving spoon onto the counter and slid it toward her.

“Sure,” she smiled. She stepped up beside him and picked up the spoon while he put two plates down next to her. The lasagna looked delicious, and having supper now was perfect timing as she could feel the rumble in her stomach from hunger. The steam rose into the air when she scooped out a serving and lumped it onto the first plate. She wondered if he’d cooked the lasagna himself. Carrie loved to cook. She didn’t have a lot of time to do it, but it was one of her most favorite things to do. When she was young, she experimented in her kitchen, and her mother would just shake her head at the mess of bowls and utensils that she’d piled into the sink. But her mom never got upset with Carrie. She’d even bought her cookbooks one year for her birthday. “Do you like to cook?” she asked.

“I do, although I don’t have a lot of time these days,” he said.

“I understand.” She took her plate and followed him over to the kitchen table. It was a long, rectangular table nearly as large as one meant for a dining room, but it was more casual, made of oak with straight lines and minimal details. She wondered if it was ever full of people or if it sat empty most nights. She lowered herself down and scooted her chair under the table. She was glad to sit because the table would hide her jitters.

He poured more beer, tipping her glass at a slant to reduce the amount of froth at the top. She watched the amber liquid slide past the rim and down the side of the glass until it was sparkling and fizzing. “Work has me busy around the clock.”

“Mine too,” she grinned.

There it was again—that little exhale of amusement just before a big, warm smile that sent her nerves into a frenzy. There was something undeniably kind about Adam, and she knew she should feel comfortable around him, but instead, she was a complete mess. Every time she tried to talk, she just said something silly or unimportant, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop being nervous around him. She looked out the substantial kitchen window at the snow falling outside. It drifted to the ground like feathers.

She didn’t have to consult her books to know why she was so nervous. It was because Adam looked only a few years older than her, and he had millions. He owned his own company. He’d married, had kids, and bought a home. Carrie had nothing material to show for her adult years, she’d never been married or even dated long-term. It made her feel like she wasn’t worth as much, like she’d made all the wrong choices in life. Being around someone that successful made Carrie feel as though she couldn’t possibly have the right answers for him or make interesting conversation.

“Tell me about your kids,” she said, trying to find familiar ground to which she could add and fill the silence.

He chewed a bite of his lasagna and swallowed. “What do you want to know?” he asked.

Carrie pushed her fork around her plate, scooping up a bite. “What are they like?”

“Well, David’s quiet, like me,” he smiled again, causing her stomach to knot up. “And Olivia’s the chatty one. She’ll talk to anybody.”

Carrie grinned at the memory of Olivia spinning her circles. “What does she like to talk about?”

Adam took a sip of his beer, the skin between his eyes creasing slightly. He set the glass down onto the table slowly, his face showing contemplation. He was quiet for a minute before he said, “Oh, little girl things, I suppose.” Then, with an awkward look, he broke eye contact.

Her thoughts went back to that moment in the playroom when he’d popped in on them and they hadn’t run to him. It occurred to Carrie that perhaps Adam didn’t know his children very well. Did he ever spend time with them? He’d asked
her
to buy their presents, and he wasn’t even tucking them into bed at that very moment; he was sitting there having supper with Carrie. He seemed like such a nice person, so why was he so standoffish with them? She didn’t press him any further.

C
arrie had spent
the last hour in the early morning tossing between the starched sheets on her new bed. The kids weren’t up yet, nor was the sun, but she was. She was thinking. Adam hadn’t stayed at the table very long last night at supper, but she didn’t blame him. He’d said he had work to do. She’d probably bored him to death. She ran through the handful of things she’d said, her gestures, wondering what he thought of her. She wanted to make a good impression on him, and she worried that she’d made herself look ridiculous. The bed creaked as she rolled over, clicked on the lamp, and grabbed her book off her nightstand. She opened to the spot where she’d marked her place and read.
Trust yourself. Believe in your intuition. Go with your instincts. These are traits of confident people…