Home for the Holidays (6 page)

“Oh, Joe,” she whispered. The last thing she wanted was for Joe to fall in love with her. Not that he wasn't handsome and sweet and wonderful. He was. He always had been. He just wasn't for her. Their personalities were poles apart. Joe was unpredictable, always doing the unexpected, whereas Cait's life ran like clockwork.

She liked Joe. She almost wished she didn't, but she couldn't help herself. However, a steady diet of his pranks would soon drive her into the nearest asylum.

Standing, Cait closed the pizza box and tucked the uneaten portion onto the top shelf of her refrigerator. She was putting the dirty plates in her dishwasher when the phone rang. She quickly washed her hands and reached for it.

“Hello.”

“Cait, it's Paul.”

Cait was so startled that the receiver slipped out of her hand. Grabbing for it, she nearly stumbled over the open dishwasher door, knocking her shin against the sharp edge. She yelped and swallowed a cry as she jerked the dangling phone cord toward her.

“Sorry, sorry,” she cried, once she'd rescued the telephone receiver. “Paul? Are you still there?”

“Yes, I'm here. Is this a bad time? I could call back later
if this is inconvenient. You don't have company, do you? I wouldn't want to interrupt a party or anything.”

“Oh, no, now is perfect. I didn't realize you had my home number…but obviously you do. After all, we've been working together for nearly a year now.” Eleven months and four days, not that she was counting or anything. “Naturally my number would be in the Human Resources file.”

He hesitated and Cait bent over to rub her shin where it had collided with the dishwasher door. She was sure to have an ugly bruise, but a bruised leg was a small price to pay. Paul had phoned her!

“The reason I'm calling…”

“Yes, Paul,” she prompted when he didn't immediately continue.

The silence lengthened before he blurted out, “I just wanted to thank you for passing on that article on the tax advantages of limited partnerships. It was thoughtful of you and I appreciate it.”

“I've read quite a lot in that area, you know. There are several recent articles on the same subject. If you'd like, I could bring them in next week.”

“Sure. That would be fine. Thanks again, Cait. Goodbye.”

The line was disconnected before Cait could say anything else and she was left holding the receiver. A smile came, slow and confident, and with a small cry of triumph, she tossed the telephone receiver into the air, caught it behind her back and replaced it with a flourish.

 

Cait was dressed and waiting for Joe early the next morning. “Joe,” she cried, throwing open her apartment door, “I could just kiss you.”

He was dressed in faded jeans and a hip-length bronze-
colored leather jacket. “Hey, I'm not stopping you,” he said, opening his arms.

Cait ignored the invitation. “Paul phoned me last night.” She didn't even try to contain her excitement; she felt like leaping and skipping and singing out loud.

“Paul did?” Joe sounded surprised.

“Yes. It was shortly after you left. He thanked me for giving him an interesting article I found in one of the business journals and—this is the good part—he asked if I was alone…as if it really mattered to him.”

“If you were alone?” Joe repeated, and frowned. “What's that got to do with anything?”

“Don't you understand?” For all his intelligence Joe could be pretty obtuse sometimes. “He wanted to know if
you
were here with me. It makes sense, doesn't it? Paul's jealous, only he doesn't realize it yet. Oh, Joe, I can't remember ever being this happy. Not in years and years and years.”

“Because Paul Jamison phoned?”

“Don't sound so skeptical. It's exactly the break I've been waiting for all these months. Paul's finally noticed me, and it's thanks to you.”

“At least you're willing to give credit where credit is due.” But he still didn't seem particularly thrilled.

“It's just so incredible,” she continued. “I don't think I slept a wink last night. There was something in his voice that I've never heard before. Something…deep and personal. I don't know how to explain it. For the first time in a whole year, Paul knows I'm alive!”

“Are we going Christmas shopping or not?” Joe demanded brusquely. “Damn it all, Cait, I never expected you to go soft over a stupid phone call.”

“But this wasn't just any call,” she reminded him. She reached for her purse and her coat in one sweeping motion. “It was was from
Paul.
”

“You sound like a silly schoolgirl.” Joe frowned, but Cait wasn't about to let his short temper destroy her mood. Paul had phoned her at home and she was sure that this was the beginning of a
real
relationship. Next he'd ask her out for lunch, and then…

They left her apartment and walked down the hall, Cait grinning all the way. Standing just outside the front doors was a huge truck with gigantic wheels. Just the type of vehicle she'd expected him to drive the night he'd taken her to Henry's.

“This is your truck?” she asked when they were outside. She couldn't keep the laughter out of her voice.

“Something wrong with it?”

“Not a single thing, but Joe, honestly, you are so predictable.”

“That's not what you said yesterday.”

She grinned again as he opened the truck door, set down a stool for her and helped her climb into the cab. The seat was cluttered, but so wide she was able to shove everything to one side. When she'd made room for herself, she fastened the seat belt, snapping it jauntily in place. She was so happy, the whole world seemed delightful this morning.

“Will you quit smiling before someone suggests you've been overdosing on vitamins?” Joe grumbled.

“My, aren't we testy this morning.”

“Where to?” he asked, starting the engine.

“Any of the big malls will do. You decide. Do you have your list all made out?”

Joe patted his heart. “It's in my shirt pocket.”

“Good.”

“Have you decided what you're going to buy for whom?”

His smile was slightly off-kilter. “Not exactly. I thought I'd follow you around and buy whatever you did. Do you know what you're getting your mother? Mine's damn difficult to buy for. Last year I ended up getting her a dozen bags of cat food. She's got five cats of her own and God only knows how many strays she's feeding.”

“At least your idea was practical.”

“Well, there's that, and the fact that by the time I started my Christmas shopping the only store open was a supermarket.”

Cait laughed. “Honestly, Joe!”

“Hey, I was desperate and before you get all righteous on me, Mom thought the cat food and the two rib roasts were great gifts.”

“I'm sure she did,” Cait returned, grinning. She found herself doing a lot of that when she was with Joe. Imagine buying his mother rib roasts for Christmas!

“Give me some ideas, would you? Mom's a hard case.”

“To be honest, I'm not all that imaginative myself. I buy my mother the same thing every year.”

“What is it?”

“Long-distance phone cards. That way she can phone her sister in Dubuque and her high-school friend in Kansas. Of course she calls me every now and then, too.”

“Okay, that takes care of Mom. What about Martin? What are you buying him?”

“A bronze eagle.” She'd decided on that gift last summer when she'd attended Sunday services at Martin's
church. In the opening part of his sermon, Martin had used eagles to illustrate a point of faith.

“An eagle,” Joe repeated. “Any special reason?”

“Y-yes,” she said, not wanting to explain. “It's a long story, but I happen to be partial to eagles myself.”

“Any other hints you'd care to pass on?”

“Buy wrapping paper in the after-Christmas sales. It's about half the price and it stores easily under the bed.”

“Great idea. I'll have to remember that for next year.”

Joe chose Northgate, the shopping mall closest to Cait's apartment. The parking lot was already beginning to fill up and it was only a few minutes after eight.

Joe managed to park fairly close to the entrance and came around to help Cait out of the truck. This time he didn't bother with the step stool, but clasped her around the waist to lift her down. “What did you mean when you said I was so predictable?” he asked, giving her a reproachful look.

With her hands resting on his shoulders and her feet dangling in midair, she felt vulnerable and small. “Nothing. It was just that I assumed you drove one of these Sherman-tank trucks, and I was right. I just hadn't seen it before.”

“The kind of truck I drive bothers you?” His brow furrowed in a scowl.

“Not at all. What's the matter with you today, Joe? You're so touchy.”

“I am not touchy,” he snapped.

“Fine. Would you mind putting me down then?” His large hands were squeezing her waist almost painfully, though she doubted he was aware of it. She couldn't imagine what had angered him. Unless it was the fact that
Paul had called her—which didn't make sense. Maybe, like most men, he just hated shopping.

He lowered her slowly to the asphalt and released her with seeming reluctance. “I need a coffee break,” he announced grimly.

“But we just arrived.”

Joe forcefully expelled his breath. “It doesn't matter. I need something to calm my nerves.”

If he needed a caffeine fix so early in the day, Cait wondered how he'd manage during the next few hours. The stores quickly became crowded this time of year, especially on a Saturday. By ten it would be nearly impossible to get from one aisle to the next.

By twelve, she knew: Joe disliked Christmas shopping every bit as much as she'd expected.

“I've had it,” Joe complained after making three separate trips back to the truck to deposit their spoils.

“Me, too,” Cait agreed laughingly. “This place is turning into a madhouse.”

“How about some lunch?” Joe suggested. “Someplace far away from here. Like Tibet.”

Cait laughed again and tucked her arm in his. “That sounds like a great idea.”

Outside, they noticed several cars circling the lot looking for a parking space and three of them rushed to fill the one Joe vacated. Two cars nearly collided in their eagerness. One man leapt out of his and shook an angry fist at the other driver.

“So much for peace and goodwill,” Joe commented. “I swear Christmas brings out the worst in everyone.”

“And the best,” Cait reminded him.

“To be honest, I don't know what crammed shopping
malls and fighting the crowds and all this commercialism have to do with Christmas in the first place,” he grumbled. A car cut in front of him, and Joe blared his horn.

“Quite a lot when you think about it,” Cait said softly. “Imagine the streets of Bethlehem, the crowds and the noise…” The Christmas before, fresh from a shopping expedition, Cait had asked herself the same question. Christmas seemed so commercial. The crowds had been unbearable. First at Northgate, where she did most of her shopping and then at the airport. Sea-Tac had been filled with activity and noise, everyone in a hurry to get someplace else. There seemed to be little peace or good cheer and a whole lot of selfish concern and rudeness. Then, in the tranquility of church on Christmas Eve, everything had come into perspective for Cait. There had been crowds and rudeness that first Christmas, too, she reasoned. Yet in the midst of that confusion had come joy and peace and love. For most people, it was still the same. Christmas gifts and decorations and dinners were, after all, expressions of the love you felt for your family and friends. And if the preparations sometimes got a bit chaotic, well, that no longer bothered Cait.

“Where should we go to eat?” Joe asked, breaking into her thoughts. They were barely moving, stuck in heavy traffic.

She looked over at him and smiled serenely. “Any place will do. There're several excellent restaurants close by. You choose, only let it be my treat this time.”

“We'll talk about who pays later. Right now, I'm more concerned with getting out of this traffic sometime within my life span.”

Still smiling, Cait said, “I don't think it'll take much longer.”

He returned her smile. “I don't, either.” His eyes held hers for what seemed an eternity—until someone behind them honked irritably. Joe glanced up and saw that traffic ahead of them had started to move. He immediately stepped on the gas.

Cait didn't know what Joe had found so fascinating about her unless it was her unruly hair. She hadn't combed it since leaving the house; it was probably a mass of tight, disorderly curls. She'd been so concerned with finding the right gift for her nephews and niece that she hadn't given it a thought.