Grave Apparel (85 page)

Felicity’s
legendary
Christmas cookie party had
taken
place after all, right
down
to the personalized gingerbread
boys
and

girls. There
was
even
one with
Lacey’s
name on it. Peace
was
restored to the
newsroom.
But
now
it
was
Christmas
Eve,
and
Felicity’s
desk
was
dark. She and
Wiedemeyer
were
nowhere
to be seen.
Lacey
was
alone in her corner of the LifeStyle section, part of the
skeleton
staff
required to be on hand just in case
news
broke
out.
But
if
a
Christmas
tree
falls
in
the
forest
with
no one
to
report
it,
Lacey
wondered,
is
it still
news?

An impromptu party gathered in an alcove near the staff kitchen.
They’d
turned
off
the
overhead
newsroom
lights and lit candles. A
motley
repast of seasonal goodies
was
spread out on a
festive
green and red holiday tablecloth draped
over
an un used desk. There were cheeses and bread and ham and roast beef, platters of Christmas cookies, red and green plastic cups of rumspiked eggnog garnished with nutmeg. Lacey
helped
herself to some cookies and
eggnog
and chatted with
LaToya.

“I
don’t
mind coming in
today,”
LaToya
was
saying. “No
news
is good
news,
I
always
say.
Also free rum, pretty good
eggnog,
and I get
New
Year’s
week
off.
Cheers!”

Lacey
raised her plastic cup in a toast. She
was
waiting
for
Vic
to pick her up for some lastminute shopping. Then
they
would
bake
their
cake
for
tomorrow’s
dessert, something from
the
festive
fiends
of
Southern
Living
magazine:
a
chocolate
macadamia pie with wildly improbable (and laborintensive)
chocolate
leaves.
Their
dessert
had
better
be
good,
it
had
a tough act to
follow:
Nadine’s
standing rib roast. After baking their pie together tonight, she and
Vic
would
go to Midnight Mass.

Lacey
wondered
where Mac had disappeared to. He seemed quieter since the girls came to
live
with them, most
likely
worn
out from playing dad. He seemed happier too. He
didn’t
need to come to
work
on Christmas
Eve,
but
he
showed
up
anyway.
Lacey
knew
Mac generally appeared
any
time food appeared. She
fixed
a plate of assorted goodies and a cup of
eggnog
and headed for his
office.
It
was
Christmas, after all.

But
Lacey
stopped, mesmerized, at
Mac’s
office
door.
Her
gruff
editor
was
sitting on the floor with his lightup Christmas tie
thrown
over
one
shoulder,
reading an instruction manual and handing something
shiny
and mechanical to
Vic
Donovan.
Vic,
wrench
in
hand,
was
deep
in
concentration,
apparently
engaged
in
putting
together
a
little
girl’s
blue
bicycle.
Already
com

pleted and leaning by the door
was
a slightly smaller
version
of the same
bike
in pink.

The
sleeves
of
Vic’s
sweater were pushed up,
revealing
his muscular forearms. The curl he
always
tried to brush back fell
down
over
his forehead. Looking up, he smiled at the sight of her in the
door.
Lacey
felt a rush of pleasure.

Mac
followed
Vic’s
glance. “Smithsonian, come on
in.”
He noticed the cup and the plate in her hands. “Is that for me?” She nodded and handed them
over.

“I
didn’t
know
you were in
here,”
she said to
Vic.
“I’ve
been
waiting
for
you,
cowboy. I
didn’t
realize
I’d
stumbled
into
Santa’s
workshop.”

“You
learn something
new
every
day,
Smithsonian,”
Mac
commented.

She had, in
fact,
learned a lot about Mac.
Like
what an old softie he
was.

“And
I’m
Santa’s
little
helper,”
Vic
said, indicating the
bicy
cles and instructions and tools and parts spread around him on the
floor.

“You’re
giving
the girls
bikes
for Christmas?”
Lacey
felt her
eyes
misting up.

“No,
Santa’s
giving
them
bikes,”
Mac said with a straight
face.
“If
they’re
good.”

“Are
they
good?” She already
knew
the
answer.
She’d
had
several
visits with Kim and the girls. Jasmine proudly
showed
her the Christmas cookies
they
helped Kim
bake,
and Lily Rose told her all about their trip to see
The
Nutcracker
,
her
eyes
very
wide.
They
both
wanted
to
see
Stella
again
and
they
made
Lacey
promise to
take
them.

“They
better be good after we
finally
get these things to
gether,”
Vic
said.
“You
ever
build
a
bike,
Lacey?
Not as
many
parts as a
BMW,
but
pretty darn
close.”

“They’re
good
girls,
better
than
I ever
expected,”
Mac
grunted. “Can you
believe
they
never
had
bikes
before?”

“Imagine
that,”
Lacey
said. “I guess
they
just had to be pink and
blue.”

“You
know
how
hard it is to
find
pink and blue
bikes
in just the right sizes? At this late date? I had to order them on the
Web!
Good thing
Donovan
here
showed
up.”

Lacey
looked
at
Vic,
reaching into his tool kit for another wrench.
“Tool
kit’s
always
in the
Jeep,”
he said. “Ready for

anything,
Santa.”
Obviously this guy had hidden talents.
He
could build two little girls pink and blue bicycles. He
could
even
build
a green
BMW.
Lacey’s
heart swelled with pride. And something else.

Mac
finished
his
eggnog.
“I had these
expressshipped
to the
office
so
they
wouldn’t
see
’em
at
home.
Who
knew
bikes
wouldn’t
come already assembled?
You
know
that,
Donovan?”
Vic
just chuckled.

Nearly
everybody
knows
that,
Mac,
Lacey
thought,
but
she
didn’t
say it.
Vic
tightened the last bolt on the last
bike
and got to his feet. He spun the pedals and shifted the gears:
Everything
clicked and hummed. Mac admired the bikes, as taken
with
them as if he had
never
seen
anything
so beautiful. He
couldn’t
seem to stop grinning.
Is
this
the
same
Mac?
Vic
led
Lacey
out into the
darkened
hall and kissed
her.

“Hey,
I
don’t
see
any
mistletoe,”
Lacey
protested.

“Oh,
honey,
who needs mistletoe?
Don’t
you
want
to kiss
Santa’s
helper? I could
build
you a
bicycle
for Christmas
too.”