Once Upon a Christmas (21 page)

“Do you want to come inside?” She nodded toward
her dark, empty-looking house. “The renovation is practically finished. It
looks nice. I’d like you to see it.”

Brad shook his head. “No, thanks. I’ve had enough
reminders of your friend Sam’s handiwork for one day.”

She looked away, remembering all the times she’d mentioned
Sam’s name. So many things reminded her of him. She hadn’t realized how much
those references might hurt Brad.

“I’m sorry, Brad. I’m sure I’ll stop doing that soon.”

“I hope so. The guy was ruining your reputation.
Getting you thrown out of stores—getting you arrested!” He pursed his
lips. “I’m afraid your exploits didn’t do my reputation any favors,
either. Everyone in town still links the two of us.”

Brad reached into the back seat and retrieved her white
party dress, newly cleaned and wrapped in a drycleaner’s bag. Still holding it,
he opened his car door and got out.

Holly watched him walk around the front of the car. He
paused, wiped a spot from the hood with his sleeve, then proceeded to her side
and opened her door.

“I
will
walk you up to your door, though,”
he offered with a smile. “It’s the least I can do as a gentleman.”

She let him help her out of the car and walk her to the
front porch. Brad arranged her dress across the porch swing.

“I do understand about Sam.” He faced her again. “In
fact, I admire your quick thinking. Letting him move in was a good way to get
your renovation done cheaply.”

“It wasn’t like that. Sam was…a friend.” A
friend and more, someone who’d always thought of her happiness. How could Brad
make their relationship sound so mercenary?

He waved away her explanation. “Whatever. It doesn’t
really matter, now that your little plan finally worked.”

“My…plan?”

He spread his arms, an odd sort of smirk on his handsome
face. She couldn’t read his expression very well, because he still had his
sunglasses on, even though it was getting dark.

“You got me,” he announced.

“What?”

“You got me. You got what you wanted with your plan.
The
Plan. It was all there in your day planner.”

“You read my day planner?” Holly grabbed the porch
wall and leaned against it, needing its support.

Brad frowned. “Only by accident. I saw my name on some
of the pages. Naturally I was curious.” In an apparent—and misguided
attempt—to lighten the mood, he added, “Once I got going, though, it was
quite a read.”

“You had no right. That was private.”

Holly had thought being unceremoniously dumped on the night
of the romantic dinner that wasn’t was bad. She’d thought being ridiculed—then
ignored—on the golf course was bad. She’d thought being turned down while
dressed in her most seductive clothes was bad. This was worse.

“Are you actually making fun of me because of something
you read while you were snooping?” she asked, her voice shaking.

A horrible thought occurred to her. How long ago had Brad
read about her plan? Had he known, almost from the start, what she was doing?
The idea was humiliating.

“It was really very flattering,” he insisted. “What
man could resist being the subject of such—”

“When did you read it?” she interrupted. She
pushed away from the porch wall to confront him. “When?”

“I don’t see what you’re getting so upset about. It was
just a stupid little thing—”

She snatched Brad’s damned black sunglasses from his face so
she could look him in the eye, then straightened to her full height. Wearing
her heels, she had a good two inches on him. For once, it felt good.

“When?”

He blinked nervously, his face pale and somehow diminished
without the glasses he always wore. “This morning. While you were in the
shower.”

She fought the urge to whip off her spike-heeled shoe and
hurl it at him.
“Why?”

“I wanted your mother’s phone number at her real estate
office.” He glared at her as though she were being completely
unreasonable. “I called to find out how much we might get for your house.
To find out if Linda would list it for sale.”

Wearing an aggrieved expression, Brad snatched his
sunglasses. Holly felt too stunned to care. Dumbstruck, she sank on the porch
swing. Her dress, still in its drycleaner’s bag, crinkled beneath her. She didn’t
have the energy to care.

“You know I always hated this old house, Holly. We
should start fresh. Start over in a new place, like my condo. Now that we’re
together again—”

“No.”

“Huh?”

“No.” Oh, Lord. She’d been such a fool. How could
she have been so blind?

She’d been so afraid of failing. So afraid of winding up
alone. So certain the problems in their relationship could be—should be—fixed,
if only she tried hard enough.

Holly shook her head. “No, Brad. We’re not together. I’m
not sure we ever were.” She gazed steadily at him, her certainty building
with every passing moment. “I tried everything to make things work between
us. Everything. Do you know what I just realized?”

Cautiously, Brad shook his head. He was probably still
reeling from the realization that he wasn’t taller than Holly after all.

“It’s not my fault.”

It was true. Her plan should have worked. Probably
would
have worked—on anyone who really cared for her. Anyone except Brad the Bad.
Holly wasn’t the failure in their relationship. Brad was. Realizing the truth
of that was like a shot of pure sunshine to her battered spirit.

It wasn’t her plan that had won him back. Her plan was only
one big, ego-stroking joke to him. Brad’s need to save his own reputation had
made him come back—not to mention his need for a part-time accountant.

Holly narrowed her eyes at him. She’d gotten what she
wanted, all right—only to find out it wasn’t worth having.

“I think you should leave, Brad.”

“Be serious.” He gave her his most charming smile.
“Don’t make more of this than it really is. You said it yourself. We
belong together.”

Holly stood, then gathered up her dress. “Not anymore.
Frankly, I’d rather be alone.”

He stared at her. “You
will
be alone,” he
said meanly. “Even your handyman’s gone, thanks to the kiss-off you gave
him at the jail this morning. And you won’t get a second chance with me. Not
this time.”

He waited, probably expecting her to change her mind. To beg
him for that second chance he’d preemptively refused. To revert to the old,
desperate, do-the-right-thing Holly he remembered.

When she didn’t, he looked astonished. Then angry.
Red-faced, Brad clomped awkwardly down the steps. Standing beside the lighted
Santa-with-reindeer display Holly and Sam had erected on the lawn, Brad turned.

“How does it feel to be unwanted?” he asked
snidely.

Holly didn’t want to hurt him. She really didn’t. So she
only gazed at him for a long, thoughtful moment.

“Maybe you should ask yourself that question,” she
said quietly. Then she turned, unlocked the door, and slipped inside. Alone.

“You’re crazy,” Clarissa said a few days later.
Hands full of Christmas CDs, she plopped down on the floral-upholstered
armchair beside Holly’s newly repaired fireplace. “You’ve got a man who
loves you—Sam, in case you’re wondering—and you’re letting him get away.”

“It’s too late to stop him.” Holly poked glumly at
the fire. “He’s already gone.”

She’d never been able to use the fireplace before. She’d
never even seen it when it wasn’t boarded up. But somehow, whenever she laid a
fire log, struck one of the special, extra-long matches, and hunkered down
beside the resulting blaze, it made her feel closer to Sam.

It was absurd, but Holly experienced the same kind of cozy
feeling whenever she used the new porcelain sink he’d installed in the kitchen.
She felt it when she hung pictures on the freshly painted walls, and when she
encountered the new hardwood kitchen floor on her bare feet instead of the old
yellow linoleum.

She missed him.

“He’s only gone because he thinks you chose Brad,”
Clarissa insisted for what had to be the hundredth time. “Call him. I gave
you the number.”

Holly shook her head. “I can’t. What if Sam doesn’t
want me anymore? What if he hates me? I couldn’t stand it if I called him and
he hated me.”

She replaced the wrought iron fireplace poker in its holder,
then curled up on the sofa. In its corner were the pink-fringed throw pillows
she’d used to prop up Sam’s injured foot. Reminders of him were everywhere.
Holly picked up a pillow and hugged it in her lap.

“I still have my memories. At least this way I can
still dream of what might have happened.” She shuddered. “I can’t
call Sam. I was so mean to him at the end! How could he ever forgive me?”

“You’re right. He never will,” Clarissa
deadpanned. “He’s probably sticking pins in a Holly Aldridge voodoo doll
right now. He’s probably telling total strangers how lucky he was to get away
from you.”

Holly covered her face with the pillow. Clarissa was right.
She felt horrible.

“You know, I even ordered a pizza from Angelo’s last
night. And Kung Pao chicken the night before,” she confessed forlornly,
her voice muffled by the pillow. She looked up. “My throat burned like
crazy, but it wasn’t the same without Sam.”

She’d taken to sleeping in Sam’s bed in the guest bedroom,
too. Worse, she hadn’t even changed the sheets first. She imagined they smelled
vaguely, but wonderfully, like Sam. She was turning into a real basket case.

“I was
kidding!”
Clarissa shrieked. “Geez.
Get it through your head, Holly Berry. Sam. Loves. You. He’s not going to stop.
You should have seen his face when he left.”

Holly dared to lower the pillow. “Really?”

Her friend threw her hands in the air.
“Yes.
What do you think I’ve been trying to pound into that thick head of yours for
the past three days?”

“I still can’t call him. I just can’t take a chance
like that.”

“Do it.”

Holly shook her head. “I can’t.”

“You can. Do it.”

Trying to ignore Clarissa, Holly pulled a fresh tissue from
the supply she taken to keeping in her pocket. She blew her nose.

“You know, I haven’t even been in to work since last
Friday,” she admitted.

“I know. I work there too, remember?” Clarissa
gave her a sympathetic look. “Anyway, you’ve probably accrued about a
thousand sick days. You deserve it.” She got up and sat beside Holly on
the couch, then gave her a hug. “That only proves my point, hon. For you,
missing work is like breaking the law.”

Holly sniffled. Clarissa had a point. This was serious.

“This is a chance you can’t afford
not
to take,”
Clarissa said. “Isn’t true love worth it?”

Holly took a deep, quivery breath. Then she voiced her
greatest fear. “What if Sam doesn’t want me anymore?”

Clarissa looked solemnly at her. She gave her a squeeze. “There’s
only one way to find out.”

“You sure about this?” Sam’s landlord pushed the
lease agreement across the kitchen table for Sam to sign.

“Yeah.” He scanned the document, then scrawled his
name at the bottom and handed it over. It was a done deal.

Beside him sat Jiggly Jillian Hall. Her two toddlers—a boy
and a girl, both with identical curly, pale blond hair—played noisily in his
apartment living room. He could hear their toys banging, and the sound of their
babyish laughter.

Jillie gave him a worried look. “I hope they won’t
break anything.”

“Nah.” Sam grinned at his landlord. “The
furniture comes with the place, and I’m sure it’s been through worse. It would
take a jackhammer to make a dent in any of it.”

“Hey, you’re making me look bad,” his landlord
protested. “There’s nothing wrong with that stuff.” He peered
semi-suspiciously at Sam. “You sure about this deal? Maybe you’re having
second thoughts about losing a nice, cheap apartment like this.”

“I already told you. I’m not.” Sam got up and
shook hands with his landlord. “Thanks for everything. Just don’t go
raising the rent on Jillie, here. She’s got a lease, remember?”

“Yeah, okay.”

His landlord picked up the lease, took a copy for himself,
then headed for the front door. He was still muttering something about, “never
had no kids here before,” when he left. Sam didn’t think it would be a
problem. The day he’d first moved in, the landlord had gone on at length about “never
had no college students here before.”

Besides, Sam had already overhead him telling Jillie what
nice little rugrats she had. Despite his bluster, the guy was a softie at
heart.

Picking up his last moving box, Sam went in the living room
to say goodbye to the kids. Jillie followed him.

“It’s a great place,” he told her. “I hope
you’ll be happy here. With two bedrooms it was always too big for me, anyway.”

She smiled. “Oh, we will be, professor! This is the
best Christmas present anybody ever had. The kids never had their own room
before. They’ll be just tickled.”

Jillie looked pretty happy herself. Sam grinned back at her.
The movement felt strange. He hadn’t been feeling much like smiling lately.
Losing Holly made everything look gray.

He wished Jillie good luck. After they said their good-byes,
he hefted his box again and carried it outside to his truck. Sam shoved it in
place atop the rest and tied the whole mess down. He’d be on his way in no
time.

Honk! Honk!
At the sound, Sam turned, shading his
eyes to peer down the street. A little white convertible, horn blaring with as
much enthusiasm as its tiny size could muster, zoomed straight toward him.
Holly was at the wheel.

Holly was going to run him down, judging by the speed she
was traveling. Maybe three days with Brad had sent her over the edge. Sam
figured a guy like Brad could do that to a person.