Hating Christmas (Holiday Series) (4 page)

Levi and his father were parking the car in the
crowded lot and Holly wished she were with them, even as bristly as
things had been with the annoying Hollywood agent.

Huddling her thin coat around her as best she could,
Holly reflected that neither California nor Africa had prepared her
for the wardrobe necessities of Minneapolis in December.

It was different for Levi, who apparently had gotten
the memo about needing snow gear. Although she’d been coming here
on holidays with her mother for years, she’d completely forgotten
how damn frigid the place was. Friggin’ snow.

Levi, on the other hand, had come out of the house
this evening wearing a heavy anorak and a scarf. He still must not
have heard about Mac Toledo agreeing to appear in her documentary.
She had decided that much when the subject never came up during
their argument, which—having come to know Levi—she was certain it
would if he’d known about it. He’d have accused her of being just
another woman out to screw a man over.

Her little documentary couldn’t pay Mac nearly what
producers were ponying up for the actor these days and Levi’s cut
would be very, very much less than he usually made of Mac’s
time.

Her mother rushed through the Christmas trees spiked
into the ground at the lot, grabbing Holly in a giddy hug.

“Don’t be a crab, Holl. We need a tree for the family
room. You know I have extra ornaments.”

“You have extra ornaments every year,” Holly pointed
out with resignation. “And you keep buying more every year.”

Her mother giggled. “Come on. There’s one over here
that looks like it may be perfect.”

Holly watched her mother traipsing through several
staked rows of trees.

“Can’t you stop this?” Levi said under his breath as
he joined her, his father following behind.

“I tried,” she responded, her voice as low as his. He
was a pain in the ass, but she couldn’t help sharing his reluctance
to be here.

They began wading through the rows of trees that had
been hacked down and hauled in for this silly ritual. For as long
as Holly could remember, her mother had delighted in the holiday
season, draping the house in garlands and playing Christmas songs
until Holly dreamed about them in her nightmares. Ever since her
dad had died in December, the Christmas spectacle had lost its
luster for her. She just couldn’t see the point. Even as a child,
it had seemed like a reason for people to do stupid things and
watch silly movies. What they found so entertaining about a kid
left by himself to face burglars when his family left him behind,
she had never understood.

And she wasn’t all that fond of snow, either, she
remembered as she trudged through the white mass, feeling it melt
through her sneakers. The only thing it was good for was sledding,
but she could do with a lot less of the white, cold stuff now. No
need for snow boots in California.

“So we buy another dead tree for the family room?”
Levi said, coming up behind her. “Can we go back to the house
then?”

Muffling a giggle, Holly told him sternly, “First we
have to strap the thing to the top of the car, silly, and then
someone—I’m voting for you and your father because I don’t want to
do it—has to cut off part of the trunk—“

“Damn.”

“—and then it’ll be hauled into the house for my
mother to string lights and hang ornaments—“

Levi groaned. “I think I feel myself coming down with
pneumonia.”

“It won’t do any good,” she told him kindly as she
struggled through another mound of snow between the next row of
trees. “My mother will just make a bed on the couch in the family
room so you can suffer your fatal illness while listening to Bing
Crosby.”

She paused between the rows, hearing her mother’s
cries of pleasure as she located another “wonderful tree”, to shake
snow from her now-wet shoe.

Levi stopped beside her. “Why aren’t you wearing
boots? Those shoes looked soaked.”

“They
are
soaked.” She didn’t try to keep the
irritated note from her voice. “I really haven’t had any need for
snow boots most of the time, thank you very much, and the boots I
do have are way to pretty for this kind of exposure—all six pair of
them.”

“Bet you wish you had a non-pretty pair right
now.”

Ignoring his last comment, Holly trudged on through
the rows.

By this time they’d arrived alongside her mother who
circled a tree—that look identical to the several hundred others
that were staked here. Michael joined her mom in making
appreciative comments about the fir, but Holly couldn’t work up any
enthusiasm. Walking away from the tree, she stomped her feet
several times, trying to get some feeling back in them.

“So, have you been the one cutting off the tree trunk
up until now?” Levi had come to join her in the gap between the
trees.

She made a face at him. “Pretty much, but now you and
your dad can do it.”

He glanced over his shoulder at the older couple who
were still discussing which of the various trees were more perfect.
“I’ll let him do it. It’ll make him look better in your mother’s
eyes.”

“I wouldn’t think you’d want that.” She kept trying
to stomp the damp snow off her feet.

He shrugged. “It won’t hurt anything. Or change
anything.”

Holly stopped stomping long enough to look at him.
“So, how do you plan to put a stop to this marriage? Got a
plan?”

His dark, lean face was impassive. “It’s still coming
together. Do you want to know the details?”

“Not really.”

“Hey, you two!” her mother called out. “Come vote on
your favorite.”

“It’s okay, mom. Whichever one you want is fine.”
Holly just wanted a decision, so she could get back into the car
and warm her feet.

“Well, I like this one, but Michael insists the first
one we looked at is better.” Her mother circled the tree again.

“Yea, come on you two. Settle the argument for us,”
Michael’s father invited. “Come on, son. All those years in
California hasn’t changed you that much. You must have an
opinion!”

“I have an opinion, all right.” Levi’s words were low
before he trudged over to where his father stood, staring at the
tree with her mom.

Going back to stamping her feet, Holly took no part
in the conversation, but she was startled when Levi suddenly
appeared in front of her, turning his back and squatting down.

“Climb on,” he said over his shoulder.

“What?”

“Climb on,” he repeated. “They’ve decided on this
tree and my dad’s paying the lot attendant. Decision made. We can
go back to the car.

When she didn’t respond immediately, he said, “I
think we need to call a truce. We’re both here for the same end,
we’re both having to endure all this Christmas crap. Now, climb on
my back. Your shoes are soaked and your feet are frozen. Climb on
and I’ll carry you back.”

Standing on frozen feet in sopping shoes, Holly stood
debating. This was so bizarre and she didn’t even know him! The
truce made sense, but she wasn’t sure how far they should go with
it.

“Come on. The offer won’t last long. Are you or
aren’t you?”

“I am,” she said with sudden decision, slogging to
where he squatted.

“Smart woman.” Levi hoisted her as he stood, bouncing
a little to adjust her position. “Okay. Let’s get you out of the
snow.”

Clinging to his shoulders—broader than she expected
them to be—she registered his bare hands on her jean-clad knees and
the slight stubble on his chin as she clung to his back. She wasn’t
either tall or particularly heavy, but she felt way too heavy to be
carried like this.

“Try not to strangle me,” he said over his shoulder
as he walked between the trees.

“I’m sorry!” she said, registering the warmth of his
neck even as he spoke.

Levi bounced her again, readjusting she guessed.

“So, big lunch?” There was laughter in his voice.

“No!” she said with indignation as he chuckled.

The chilly breeze lifted her hair as he walked and
she registered the warm, clean smell of his hair.

“It occurs to me,” he said, still in that teasing
voice, “that I could actually take you anywhere, since you’re
already up there.”

“Not a lot of options,” she said, glancing around the
tree lot and the barren parking lots around it.

“No,” he agreed, “but I just like having the
power.”

“I’ve heard that about you,” she observed as they
moved out of the lines of trees, heading for the car.

“Why haven’t I heard about you?” He turned his head
to crane a look a her.

“Just haven’t broken through to the big time yet. But
I’m sure it’ll happen soon.” Holly knew he’d hear plenty when he
learned of Mac Toledo’s next project.

* * * * * * * * *

“So….how are things working out between you and
Michael?” The next morning, Holly stood next to the kitchen island
where her mother was chopping vegetables.

“We’re fine.” Her mother gave her a sunny smile.

Around them the house was silent. Her mother said
Michael had gone out for his daily run and she supposed Levi was
sleeping in.

“No challenges? No issues? No problems?” Holly looked
at her mother searchingly.

Audrey scooped the diced veggies into a soup pot.
“None. Are you disappointed?”

“Of course not,” Holly responded with asperity. “I’m
just concerned that you jumped into this too quickly—“

“I know you’re adjusting to seeing me with a man
other than your father—who died a long time ago, might I remind
you—but Michael and I get along wonderfully.” Her mother gave her a
look. “Why is this so hard for you to understand?”

“You were single a long time—“ Holly started.

Audrey reached for a potato. “But not so long that I
forgot how to be married.”

“You took this step too fast.” Holly picked up a
carrot and started nibbling on it.

Her mother continued chopping with short, competent
moves. “When we met again after knowing each other as children, we
just knew it was right. At our time of life, waiting around to try
to
make sure
just doesn’t seem smart. Michael and I know it
takes a lot to make a marriage. We’re prepared. Life has taught us
a lot.”

“You’re not that old,” Holly scolded.

“Old enough,” her mother said, still chopping. “I
just wish you and Levi could see that.”

“Mom, it’s just that I care for you—“

“Holly, can I talk to you for a moment?” Levi
appeared suddenly in the doorway, his face thunderous. “Alone?”

Her mother glanced up curiously.

“What? I thought you were still asleep,” Holly said,
taking another nibble of carrot.

“Alone, if you please.” He gestured toward the living
area.

Holly threw her mother a meaningful glance before she
walked into the other room with him. Her mom had no way of knowing
what was going on, but Holly had a flash of suspicion.

“Apparently we have more in common than just working
in the same industry.” He faced her like a gun slinger, the muscle
along his jaw tight.

“Hmmm. Okay.” She knew where this was going. Flipping
her hair off her shoulder, she waited.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me you’ve been talking
to Mac Toledo?” The question was asked in a level voice, but she
could tell by Levi’s implacable expression that he was pissed.

She shrugged as casually as she could, considering
the fury emanating from him. “Either it just never came up or I’m
another woman just out to screw men over for money.”

He ignored the last part of her sentence. “Never came
up? Seriously? You’ve been negotiating with
my
client to do
a film role and you just didn’t see how this would be of interest
to me?”

Dressed down this morning in a plaid shirt and jeans
that clung to him in all the right places, he still looked like a
powerful movie agent, despite not wearing a two thousand dollar
suit.

“No, it just never came up.” Holly jutted her chin
out, determined not to be bullied.

“Holly, Mac Toledo is my client. I negotiate all his
contracts. That’s what agents do.” Levi braced his fists on his
lean hips. “Reputable film makers know they have to talk to actors’
agents—“

“Are you saying I’m not reputable?” She interrupted
him. “Because you didn’t even know me before yesterday. I’ll bet
you’ve never heard of my films, but I’ve dedicated myself to this
documentary. It’s a story that really needs to be told. I hardly
think you can say whether my reputation is good or bad. So, don’t
lump me in with all those gold-diggers you know. Mac Toledo will
draw attention to the hunger in a very poor country.”

Levi refused to get sidetracked by the gold-digger
remark. He could not believe the gall of woman. “This isn’t about
how you’re viewed in the industry. Mac Toledo is my client. All
requests for his acting services go through
me
.”

“So, you’re mad because you didn’t get to make this
deal? I just floated the idea of my documentary past him to see if
he had any interest,” she insisted, making a floating, breezy
gesture with her hand. “Zambia’s poverty isn’t a sexy topic. Lots
of people don’t really care. If he didn’t, you didn’t need to be
bothered.”

“Since when do you
bother
the actor, but not
his business people?” Levi’s question was sarcastic.

“Look,” she said, “my work is very personal. Very
small and personal. I happened to run into Mac and he was
interested in my project. The actors who work with me have to care
about the subject matter. I just mentioned it. Mac might not have
wanted to be involved, at all.”

Levi had never understood what it meant for
characters to grind their teeth when in an argument, but he got it
now. “Mac’s telling me that he’s very interested—That he’s actually
signed a contract to do your documentary.”