A Holiday to Remember. Lynnette Kent
Still, Mr. Fletcher was a nice guy.
At the last minute, he said, “I almost forgot—I bought that girl a candy bar. A Snickers. Add that in.”
He left feeling more like Galahad than that Quisling guy they’d talked about in school.
Once out on the sidewalk, he looked around and saw her slouched on a bench just up the street, slowly eating the candy bar. Chase went to sit beside her, opened his chips and took a swig of his drink. But he didn’t say anything.
Finally, she said, “You bought it, didn’t you?”
He just nodded, pretending to finish chewing a chip.
“Wuss,” she told him.
From the floor in front of the fireplace, the seven Hawkridge girls groaned.
Chris grinned. “You can’t win when it comes to girls.”
Monique snorted. “Get on with the story.” She glanced at the headmistress’s disapproving face. “Please.”
“Right. So then…”
She gave a sideways glance. “What do you do around here for fun, anyway?”
“Besides shoplifting?”
Juliet jabbed him in the side with her elbow.
“There’s plenty to do in the snow.” He glanced up at the sky—it had been a warm winter and they were only wearing sweaters. “Not much if there’s no snow.”
She sighed and raised her arms in the air. “Why am I here? What possible point is there to Christmas in this hick town?”
He finished his chips, balled the bag and tossed it toward the trash can, praying for a basket. But the bag bounced off the rim and fell on the sidewalk. Feeling his ears heat up, he retrieved the trash and dropped it in the container.
As he sat down again, though, he managed to casually turn his body toward her and prop his elbow on the back of the seat. In a few minutes he would stretch out his arm behind her shoulders. If he was really lucky, some of that shiny red-brown hair would brush his hand.
“I’m Chase,” he told her.
“Juliet.” She crushed the candy wrapper and pitched it at the trash can, where it landed without a sound.
“Are you from around here?” he asked, to distract from his hot, red cheeks.
“No way. I live in New York.” She tossed her hair back over her shoulder. If he’d had his arm stretched out, he could have caught some across his palm. “Manhattan, where there’s shopping and music, plays and people and a hundred things to do.”
“So why’d you come to the mountains?”
“My grandmother. She’s sick and she said she wanted to see me before she dies.” Juliet rolled her eyes. “She never wanted to see me before. I barely know the old bat, but I’m forced to spend a whole week trapped in the middle of nowhere.” Head bowed, the girl sat and sulked.
Chase took the chance to lay his arm across the back of the bench. “I’m here for the whole winter break. Got here on the twentieth and I’m stuck for three weeks.”
Finally, she seemed a little curious. “You’re not from here? Where do you live?”
“Philadelphia.”
“So you’re a prisoner, too.”
Chase shook his head. “Nah. In Philly I’m the prisoner. I get free when I come to visit my granddad.”
“Parental marriage issues?”
“Big time. At least here nobody’s fighting World War III. My granddad’s a pretty cool old guy.”
She tossed that hair again, but it missed his hand. “My parents basically live on different planets. My granddads both died before I was born and this is the first time I’ve met the grandmother here. The one in New York, my dad’s mother, is a first-class bitch.”
“You should meet my granddad. You’d like him.”
Juliet bounced off the bench to her feet. “Okay, let’s go.”
Chase stood up more slowly. “You want to go see him? Now?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“I…” He couldn’t think of why not, except…“I only have one bike.”
“Cool,” she said. “‘You can ride me on the handlebars.”
And that’s what they did. Juliet sat in front of him and Chase pedaled for all he was worth. Going up the hills nearly killed him and he nearly killed her as they flew down the slopes. Good thing his granddad lived only three miles outside of town. Chase didn’t know if his heart would last any farther.
When he stopped at the end of the long dirt driveway, Juliet dropped off the front of the bike and looked around at his granddad’s place. “Beverly Hillbillies, anyone?”
He surveyed the junk-cluttered yard with a smile. “Yeah, Granddad likes to tinker with engines, and he’s not much on mowing grass or pulling weeds.” Chase stomped up the rickety steps to the front porch. “Inside’s better, ’cause he has a lady come clean every week. Except for his workshop, which is a danger zone all by itself.”
He held back the screen door and pushed the front door open. “Come on in.”
“Don’t mind if I do.” She stepped past him, brushing her shoulder against his chest and her hip against his legs.
Chase felt every cell in his body go on alert. He was a goner from that moment on.
Chris doubted any of the girls heard that last part. All of them appeared to have fallen asleep, which was exactly what he’d intended.
Jayne Thomas stirred in her chair. “That was quite an opening chapter.” He could barely see her in the near-dark, and her voice sounded calm. Had he not stirred a single memory? “Do you include ‘novelist’ on your résumé? ‘Storyteller,’ perhaps?”
“No. I get paid to tell the truth.”
She didn’t respond, and he knew he’d failed. At the same time, he realized how exhausted he was. “Anywhere in particular you want me to sleep?” He winced as he stood up. His muscles had petrified while he sat. “As far away from this room as possible, I assume.”
“Well…” Her hesitation told him she approved that suggestion. “This is the only working fireplace. The rest of the building will be very, very cold.”
Chris shrugged a shoulder—the wrong one, but he swallowed the groan. “Doesn’t matter. I’ve slept in colder places.” He looked at the fire, now reduced to glowing red embers. “I’ll put a couple of logs on and bring more in. But you’ll have to keep it stoked overnight, or you’ll all be freezing in the morning along with me.”
She still didn’t move. “Yes.”
When he brought the wood in from outside, Juliet—Jayne—was standing near the fireplace, in case he tried something with one of the girls, Chris guessed. After stacking the logs carefully on the hearth, he straightened up. “I’ll grab some blankets from the infirmary, if that’s okay. In fact, maybe I’ll just sack out on a bed in there.” He sent her a grin. “At this point, a mattress might be a better deal than mere heat.”
He thought he saw her smile. “That could be true.”
As he went to the door, the beam of her flashlight came up beside him, then went ahead of him out into the hallway. “The infirmary is on the second floor,” she said. “On the right.”
“I remember, more or less.” He started toward