Trading Christmas: When Christmas Comes / The Forgetful Bride. Debbie Macomber
“I really don’t care.”
“Well, I could call a travel agent for recommendations.”
“Don’t bother.”
A travel agent might book him into some area where he’d be surrounded by people and festivities centered on the Christmas holidays. Any contact with others was out of the question. He wanted to find a place where he’d be completely alone, with no chance of being disturbed. And if possible, he wanted to find a place where Christmas wasn’t a big deal.
He told Mrs. Lewis all this, then asked her for suggestions. He turned down Vermont, Aspen, Santa Fe and Disney World.
Disney World!
At her despairing look, he sighed again. “Never mind,” he said. “I’ll do it myself.”
She nodded and seemed relieved.
Later that day, Charles had to admit that finding an obscure location for travel on such short notice was difficult. Taking his briefcase with him, he walked to his condo, not far from the university area. But after he’d showered, heated up a microwave lasagna for his dinner and slept, he tackled the project with renewed enthusiasm. It was now shortly after 8:00 p.m.
After calling half a dozen airlines, he realized he was seeking the impossible. Not a man to accept defeat, Charles went online to do his own investigative work. It was while he was surfing the Internet that he found a site on which people traded homes for short periods.
One such notice was from a woman who’d posted a message: Desperately Seeking Home in Boston for Christmas Holidays.
Charles read the message twice, awed by his good fortune. This woman, a schoolteacher in a small town in Washington State, sought a residence in Boston for two weeks over the Christmas holidays. She could travel after December 17th and return as late as December 31st.
The dates were perfect for Charles. He started to get excited. This might actually work without costing him an arm and a leg. Since he didn’t have to register in a hotel, his mother would have no obvious means of tracking him. Oh, this was very good news indeed.
Charles answered the woman right away.
From: “Charles Brewster” <[email protected]>
To: “Emily Springer” [email protected]
Sent: December 14, 2004
Subject: Trading Places
Dear Ms. Springer,
I’m responding to the DESPERATELY SEEKING IN BOSTON advertisement shown on the Trading Homes Web site. I live in Boston and teach at Harvard. My condo is a two-bedroom, complete with all modern conveniences. You can email me with your questions at the address listed above. I eagerly await your reply.
Sincerely,
Charles Brewster
Before long Charles received a response. Naturally, she had a number of questions. He had a few of his own, but once he was assured that he’d be completely alone in a small Eastern Washington town, Charles agreed to the swap. He supplied references, and she offered her own.
A flurry of emails quickly passed between them as they figured out the necessary details. Emily seemed to think she owed him an explanation as to why she was interested in Boston. He didn’t tell her that he didn’t care about her reasons.
He certainly didn’t mention his own. He rather enjoyed the notion of spending time in a town called Leavenworth. If he remembered correctly, a big federal prison was situated in the area. As far as Charles was concerned, that was even better. The less celebrating going on, the happier he’d be. He could spend the holidays in a nice, quiet prison town without any Christmas fuss.
His remaining concern was buying a plane ticket, but once again the online travel sites came to his rescue. Charles had no objection to flying a red-eye, since half the time he didn’t know whether it was day or night.
“Everything’s been arranged,” he announced to Mrs. Lewis the following morning.
She responded with a brief nod. “So you have decided to travel.”
“I have.”
She held up her hand. “Don’t tell me any of the details.”
He stared at her. “Why not?”
“In case your mother asks, I can honestly tell her I don’t know.”
“Excellent idea.” He beamed at the brilliance of her suggestion. For once, he was going to outsmart his dear, sweet matchmaker of a mother and at the same time blot Christmas from the calendar. School was closing for winter recess and if she couldn’t reach him, she’d assume he wasn’t answering his phone, which he rarely did, anyway—even before caller ID. And suppose his mother found some way to get hold of Mrs. Lewis during the Christmas holidays? It wouldn’t matter, because Mrs. Lewis didn’t know a thing! This was more satisfactory by the minute.
For two blessed weeks in December, he was going to escape Christmas and his mother in one fell swoop.
No question about it, life didn’t get any better than this.
Three
The bell rang, dismissing Faith Kerrigan’s last junior-high literature class of the afternoon. Her students were out of the room so fast, anyone might think the building was in danger of exploding. She could understand their eagerness to leave. When classes were dismissed for winter break at the end of the week, she’d be ready—more than ready.
“Faith?” Sharon Carson stuck her head in the doorway. “You want to hit the mall this afternoon?”
Faith cringed. The crowds were going to be horrendous, and it would take a braver woman than she to venture into a mall this close to the holidays. One advantage of being single was that Faith didn’t have a lot of Christmas shopping to do. That thought, however, depressed her.
She was an aunt three times over, thanks to her younger sister. Faith loved her nephews, but she’d always dreamed of being a mother herself one day. She’d said goodbye to that dream when she divorced. At the time she hadn’t realized it; she’d blithely assumed she’d remarry, but to this point she hadn’t met anyone who even remotely interested her. She hadn’t guessed it would be that difficult to meet a decent man, but apparently she’d been wrong. Now thirty, she’d begun to feel her chances were growing bleaker by the day.
“Not tonight, Sharon, but thanks.”
Her fellow teacher and friend leaned against the door of her classroom. “You’re usually up for a trip to the mall. Is something bothering you?”
“Not really.” Other than the sorry state of her love life, the only thing on Faith’s mind was getting through the next few days of classes.
“Are you sure?” Sharon pressed.
“I’m sure.” Faith glanced over at her and smiled. She was tall, the same height as Faith at five foot eight, and ten years older. Odd that her two best friends were forty. Both Emily and Sharon were slightly overweight, while Faith kept her figure trim and athletic. Emily was an undiscovered beauty. She was also the perfect kindergarten teacher, patient and gentle. She looked far younger than her years, with short curly brown hair and dark eyes. Unlike Faith, she wasn’t interested in sports. Emily felt she got enough physical exercise racing after five-year-olds all day and had no interest in joining the gym or owning a treadmill. Come to think of it, Faith wasn’t sure Leavenworth even had a gym.
Faith ran five miles three times a week and did a seven-mile-run each weekend. She left the races to those who enjoyed collecting T-shirts. She wasn’t one of them. The running habit had started shortly after her separation, and she’d never stopped.
“You haven’t mentioned Emily lately. What’s up with her?” Sharon asked and came all the way into the room. The summer before, when Sharon and her family had