Merry Humbug Christmas (21 page)

“No, Jackie, I’m headed out as well. Have a wonderful Christmas

with your family.”

“Thank you. I hope you and Dr. Pendergrass do the same.”

“Here’s hoping,” he said with a grin. “My entire family is flying in, and we’re joining them at our vacation home up in Sugarloaf.

She’s meeting them all for the first time.”

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“Be careful driving,” she warned. “I heard on the news this morn-

ing that the ski lifts are fully operational at the resorts in Big Bear.

Another foot of powder last night.”

“A white Christmas,” he mused. “We haven’t had one of those for

a couple of years.”

On his way over to pick up Reese, Damian asked Siri—his best

friend in the form of a cell phone—to check driving conditions on CA 38, the winding road that would take them up the mountain to

Sugarloaf.

“State route 38 . . . to Sugarloaf Mountain,” she confirmed in her friendly but robotic voice. “Currently thirty-one degrees. . . .Wind chill nineteen degrees. . . . Snowy conditions. . . . Expected snowfall

. . . three additional inches . . . by ten p.m. . . . Road conditions . . .

could be hazardous. . . . Driving speed slowed . . . from forty-five

. . . to thirty-five . . . in some areas.”

“Thanks, Siri.”

“You are welcome. . . . Is there . . . anything else . . . I can do . . .

for you?”

“Not right now. Have a good night.”

“I am here . . . if you . . . need me.”

Damian chuckled. He recalled the big deal of buying his first cell phone back in college, a boxy thing, too heavy to lug in his pocket, incessantly dropping calls. Now he carried less than four ounces of streamlined technology that conversed with him on a daily basis and performed more dependably than at least a couple members of his

human office staff.

The garage door stood open, and two small-wheeled suitcases

sat behind the rear bumper of Reese’s car, a navy blue sweater looped through the handle of one of them. Reese stepped into view, smiling at him as he pulled up, stunning in lightly faded jeans and a pale blue blouse with glittering navy collar and cuffs. As she tossed her glossy blonde hair and began to gather her things, Damien popped

the trunk and climbed out of his Mercedes.

“Your family’s gifts are on the kitchen table,” she told him, and he paused for a moment to take in the sight of her.

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How did I ever land a girl like this?
he wondered. From the bottom of her navy suede button-up boots to the wispy bangs of her honey-blonde hair, Reese Pendergrass could still take his breath away. She looked like a print ad for something decadent and fragrant. Perhaps a new cologne or shampoo.

She’s even perfectly color coordinated, he realized. Right down to the
metallic blue Lexus LS Hybrid parked behind her.

“You look great,” he commented, and he gave her a sweet kiss

before heading into the house to pick up the gifts.

He’d expected a cardboard box or a couple of shopping bags.

Instead, two enormous red velvet stockings with white fur trim

rested against the table, fat with presents wrapped with festive paper and curled ribbon bows.

“You do everything in style,” he remarked as he carefully loaded

the stockings into the trunk. She punched the code into the keypad next to the garage door to lower it.

“Too much?” she asked him once they’d settled into the soft

leather seats.

“Not at all. I think they’ll love it. Did you bring a coat? All I saw was a sweater.”

“It’s a heavy sweater. And it has a hood.”

“Reese, honey. It’s snowing up there. You’re going to need a coat.”

She looked as if she needed to consider the suggestion. “Oh.

Okay.”

“You own a coat, right?”

She frowned at him. “Of course I own a coat. I guess. . . . Well, you’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking. Hang on and I’ll run inside and grab one.”

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On the second day of Christmas,

Murphy’s Law gave to me . . .

two mismatched gloves

and a big rockin’ Harry Winston ring.

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2

Reese emerged from the house and walked through the

garage, wearing a cute pink beanie and a long black coat

with a pink fur collar. Walking the driveway like a runway, she paused at the front of his car and struck a model-esque pose, pursing her lips at him before spinning around and returning to the garage keypad to punch in the code once more.

At the front bumper she slipped out of the coat and tossed it into the backseat. Still wearing the hat, she plopped onto the passenger seat and tugged the door shut behind her.

“You’re the cutest girl I’ve ever met,” he told her, and they leaned together for a kiss.

“You better mean that,” she warned, “because I intend to get the

full scoop on your past from your sister Reggie. We’ve been conspir-ing by phone.”

“You and Regg have been talking? When?”

“A few times now since we got engaged. I can’t wait to meet her

in person. She just seems like someone Joss and I would hang out

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with. And, of course, I’m counting on her to tell me some of the

secrets of your past.”

Damian chuckled. “Well, you’ve found the right inroad with

Regg. She’ll be more than happy to humiliate me. She was a real

mother hen to the three of us boys when we were growing up. This is the longest I’ve ever gone without seeing her. Or any of my family.”

“Three years!” she exclaimed. “As close as you all are, I can hardly believe you went this long without getting together for the holidays.”

Damian turned the key in the ignition and backed down the

driveway incline. “Matt and Courtney have been crazy busy with all of the holiday activities that come with four kids, so they opted to have Mom and Dad come to them. And Eli and his family moved to

Puerto Rico three years ago and have only been home once since

then. But this year we have the perfect storm where we can all get together. You’re going to love the cabin. It’s my favorite place on the planet. . . . Hey, I thought we’d drive for a while and then stop for dinner.”

“Sounds good to me. How long until we get there?

“If we stop at the base of the mountain, it will be another hour, hour and a half, depending on the weather. We may hit snow about

halfway up.”

They stopped for a pleasant, leisurely dinner at a little café about fifteen minutes from the base of the mountain.

“Okay,” Reese exclaimed as they merged back onto Interstate 10.

“I’ve been studying. Quiz me.”

“Hang on,” he replied with a grin. “First, I have a soundtrack.”

Reese looked on as he cued up the first of the CDs he’d carefully and strategically chosen for the second leg of their trip. A tender pinch of guilt mixed with amusement pressed in as he recalled centering his search around music that did
not
contain any variation of Reese’s favorite carol, “O Holy Night.”

They’d only just met after Thanksgiving the previous year, so

their first Christmas together peered around the corner of the still-getting-to-know-you phase of their relationship. Because she had

traditionally spent Christmas with her friend Joss, Damian knew

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she wouldn’t attend the Christmas Eve service with him, so he had invited her to church the Sunday beforehand. He would never forget that moment when Reese leaned toward him as the choir began to

sing and declared in a whisper, “This is my favorite Christmas carol ever!”

As church members were encouraged to join the choir in song,

Reese’s passionate enthusiasm for that particular song came out in near screeches, and heads turned toward them from every direction, including the podium and the choir loft behind the pastor. At first he’d thought it to be a sort of tasteless and inappropriate joke on her part . . . until he really looked at her. With her eyes closed and her head turned upward, Reese wore an immaculate and reverent

expression on her face.

He’d taken a lot of private ribbing from fellow church members

in the months that followed. Despite the fact that he vowed to do all he could to avoid any repeat performances of that ear-splitting and somewhat horrifying enthusiasm for Reese’s favorite carol, Damian also knew he couldn’t bear the thought of ever spending another

Christmas season without her.

He’d breathed a heavy sigh of relief when she agreed to spend the holiday with his family in Sugarloaf where he wouldn’t need to worry about a church choir’s song choices. On their way to dinner one night the week before, he’d quickly caught the first notes of Chris Tomlin’s version of “O Holy Night” and changed the radio station before she recognized it. And now for their drive up the mountain, he’d orchestrated an “O Holy Night”-less soundtrack to accompany them.

“We’re starting with
Christmas with the Rat Pack
!” he declared.

And on the first notes of Dean Martin’s “Let it Snow, Let it Snow,”

Reese giggled.

“You really do love your Christmas, don’t you, Damie?”

“I told you. I’m not like Joss,” he answered. “In fact, I’m the

opposite of Joss. I put up my tree and hang the outside lights on Thanksgiving weekend, and none of it comes down again until after the New Year.”

“Look who you’re telling,” she teased.

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“And yet you agreed to marry me,” he said.

“I know. It’s a mystery, isn’t it?”

Reese slipped her arm around his and kissed his cheek.

“You think I’m bad?” he asked. “Wait until you get a load of my

family. All of them in one place too. I just hope it doesn’t scare you straight off the mountain and back into Joss’s Christmas-hating arms.”

“I’ll work hard to restrain myself.”

He didn’t really want her to sense how serious he actually was,

but the sentiment slipped out with just one word. “Promise?”

“Yes, Damian. I promise.”

The happy giggle that followed let him know she didn’t have a

clue of what awaited her in just a little over an hour. His growing-up years had been somewhat idyllic; at least, that’s what he’d come to learn in the span of time since he left Vermont and his family home behind. In comparison to the vegan-hippie lifestyle with which

Reese had been raised—and then the Christmas-hating years with

her friend Joss—she might be in for a bit of a shock. He hoped it turned out to be a good one, of course, but it would certainly be a shock at first.

“Okay! Let’s start with Reggie because she’s easiest,” Reese

suggested, returning her attention to preparing for the big family meeting. “Forty-six years old, no kids, still lives in Burke where you all grew up, husband Kenneth died in ’06, and she’s never married again. That’s so sad. I’ll bet she misses him so much.”

“Kenny and Reggie were the perfect couple,” he said. “They

started dating in high school and married right after graduation. She found out she had ovarian cancer when they were trying to figure out why she couldn’t get pregnant. Kenny stood by her through surger-ies and treatment, and she eventually had a hysterectomy. About the time they started adoption proceedings for this little baby boy from Kenya, Ken had a massive heart attack at forty-three years of age.”