This Christmas (28 page)

Maddie must have been feeling better. Either that or she had truly gone manic. Peering into the backyard, I saw that she was building a snowman. The first two huge balls of snow had been stacked together to form its torso. I was tempted to run out and join the fun, until I caught a glimpse of someone else out there with her.

So that’s where Vlad was
, I thought, grinning.

A streak of white crossed my line of vision, followed by a Maddie squeal. Then laughter. A playful snowball fight, which would probably lead to some backyard cavorting in the snow. I leaned back, wrapping the warm flannel around me more tightly.

Maddie had picked up Vlad spur of the moment and was now frolicking in the snow with him, while I was still trying to seduce Jason after a long month’s campaign.

Jason wasn’t a frolic-in-the-snow type. He would never want to do something with abandon like that. He wasn’t…

My type
. That’s what my mother had said.

I glanced over at myself in the mirror, in my frumpy dorm robe that I loved so much.
Who was I kidding?
I picked at the Oreo appliqué on my sleeve and was suddenly overwhelmed. I could have been a poster child for the “he’s just not that into you” movement.

And the weird thing was, I suddenly didn’t care.

I crawled into bed, hearing the occasional shriek of Maddie’s laughter drifting up to my window. My eyes fluttered closed, and I thought about the last time I’d had a snowball fight. It had been with Isaac the winter before, during the season’s first big snow. We had started a little snowball war right in the middle of Bergen Street, which had been blanketed in perfect white untouched snow…before we got to it.

Smiling, I fell asleep.

Christmas morning I jumped out of bed feeling oddly happy, and optimistic. Nothing had changed, of course, but it was hard to be in a negative frame of mind on Christmas morning, which I still associated with cinnamony smells and long-dreamed-of presents under the tree. And, in fact, I did smell something cinnamon-like in the air. A good omen.

I showered, dressed quickly in my jeans from last night and another more dignified sweater, and galloped down the stairs. Voices drifted to me from the kitchen, which cheered me, though I wondered that no one had bothered to plug in the Christmas tree. Maybe they didn’t want to disturb Vlad…although a quick look at the couch revealed Vlad had not slept there. Wasn’t hard to guess where he
had
slept.

That Maddie!

I skipped toward the kitchen. Maddie was at the stove, expertly twirling a spatula through her fingers. At the table sat Mom, flanked on one side by Jason. He smiled at me a little sheepishly, and no wonder. He was wearing his Santa sweater—twelve hours too late—and it looked goofier on him than I imagined it would.

Strangely, I felt like avoiding his eyes. I wasn’t sure that I had reached any solid conclusions—maybe it would be better if we waited till we got back to New York to decide anything—but I did feel like something had shifted.

“Merry Christmas!” Mom said, setting off a chime among us all, finishing with exclamations about how neat it was to have a white Christmas. “I thought we would wait till Ted came out to open presents,” Mom continued.

I tilted my head. “Has anyone heard him stirring yet?”

Mom sighed. “No, and I don’t want to wake him, poor thing. This is bound to be a tough day for him. I was thinking maybe we should try to get his cell phone away from him.”

Poor Ted.

I went over to Maddie. “What are you making?”

“Spicy pancakes,” she said.

“Edible ones,” my mother said, with a wink.

Remembering my failure of yesterday, I couldn’t help recoiling a little. Her choice of breakfast foods felt like a repudiation. But it was Christmas, and so I ignored the chuckles in the kitchen as I poured myself a cup of coffee and scooted into the seat across from Jason. “Everybody sleep okay?”

Mom said she slept just fine, and Maddie just blinked at me as if she hadn’t understood the question.

“I thought I heard a ruckus in the backyard last night,” I said.

“Oh! That was me.” Maddie’s face turned pink.

You and who else, Miss Goody Two-Shoes
, I wanted to ask. I loved it when Maddie tried to act all innocent this way. I began calculating how I could get her to reveal Vlad’s whereabouts in front of Mom.

“Look at the snowman she built!” Mom said proudly, in the same voice she used to point out construction paper creations on her refrigerator when we were kids. “It’s a work of art.”

Naturally. Maddie would not allow herself to build just any old ordinary snowman.

I pushed my chair back and peered out the patio doors. The first shock I received was that the snowman
was
ordinary. Perfect, but perfectly traditional. Three big orbs of snow, increasing in size from the head down. Its middle had stones for buttons. An old pipe of Dad’s stuck out where its mouth would be, and a fat stubby carrot stood in place of its nose. Its eyes were buttons and an old Donegal cap from the front hall closet crowned its head. About the most outstanding feature of the snowman—what really made my eyes pop—was the scarf around its neck. It was a long, flowing red-and-blue-striped wool scarf.

The scarf I had given Jason.

The one he hadn’t remembered he’d wanted.

On
Maddie’s
snowman. Seeing it there felt like a knife twisting in my gut. Especially since seeing it there, and remembering last night, I now realized that it wasn’t Vlad she had been canoodling with.

Something hitched in my throat, and I stumbled to my feet as if to refill the coffee cup I hadn’t yet taken a sip of.

Jason and Maddie. While I had been attempting—and failing—to dress for seduction, Maddie had been frolicking in the snow with him. Thank God I hadn’t taken my silk-and-chenille-clad bod down the hall and insinuated myself into his empty bed.

No wonder he’d looked sheepish!

Of course, a few hours earlier I had been rolling around in the snow with Isaac, so I didn’t have room to throw stones.
But still
. Right under my bedroom window! I tried to clear my throat nonchalantly. “What happened to Vlad?”

Maddie flipped a perfectly golden hotcake. “He just disappeared last night.” Her nose scrunched adorably in thought. “You know, I’m inclined to think you were right about him, Holly. He
was
a little odd. My New Year’s resolution is to be more discerning romantically.”

Sure, let me vet them for you, sis
. I downed a gulp of coffee, feeling the Christmasy urge to strangle one of my nearest and dearest. Never before had I brought a guy home, and the one time I did—the first and only time in twenty-eight years—she
stole
him. It was incredible. Stole him right out from under my nose!

I looked at Jason. Heartbreakingly handsome Jason. I looked at Maddie. Perky, perfect Maddie.

God, this was so screwed up. Yes, she had stolen him. But I had tossed her a high lob—the man of her dreams more than mine, made to order for her. People looking at them would think they were the perfect couple. They were. When she had first seen him she had asked if he was my Christmas present to the family. To
her
, she’d apparently meant. And I guess that’s what he was.

I remembered something and reached into my jeans for my magic Christmas napkin. Shaking a little, I unfolded it and found Isaac’s cramped science-and-math geek scrawl all over it in ballpoint pen.

I read it once. Then again.

I folded it up, half listening to everyone trying to guess how much snow we’d had. Three inches. No, maybe five. I opened my magic napkin and read it again.

“Holly?” My mom’s forehead was wrinkled with worry. “What’s the matter?”

I shook my head, not trusting myself to speak for a moment. You know that song, “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas”? There’s a line that tells the listener to let your heart be light. Well, at that moment, my heart was floating. I looked at Jason and Maddie and I was suddenly happy. Thrilled.

I felt like Jimmy Stewart after he’d discovered angels exist. Or little Natalie Wood when she’d been driven by her dream house. Or the Grinch after he’d heard the Whos singing on Christmas morning. I felt like whooping. Maybe it was inadvertent, but I had done a good deed. I wanted to do more.

I thought about my parents. They were beyond my matchmaking abilities right now, I was afraid. But they had shepherded me through plenty of crises in my life. Maybe that’s all I could give them now in return—a little understanding. And a lot of phone time in the months ahead.

I went to the fridge and got out the $150 champagne I was saving for Jason’s and my big romantic event that wasn’t. “This is for you,” I told Mom. “A housewarming gift for your new apartment. Maybe you could take us over there this afternoon?”

Mom seemed almost teary as she looked at the bottle. “Of course—that would be nice.”

Well, it would be if we managed to avoid your new neighbors
. I decided Mom could wait to hear about last night’s hijinks at her place.

I turned. There was one more thing I could do here. I marched to my brother’s room and pounded on the door. It took him a few moments, but he stumbled to the door, bleary-eyed. He was looking really scruffy—serial killer lite, would probably best describe it. I took his arm and started tugging him toward the bathroom, where I turned on the shower and then proceeded to slather shaving cream on his face.

“What the hell?” Some of it got on his mouth and he came fully awake, spitting in the sink between words. “What are you doing?”

“I’m sending you on a mission,” I said.

“What?”

“It’s Christmas morning, and you’re going to take all of our presents for Schuyler and Amanda over to your in-laws’ house,” I said, in a voice reserved for giving careful directions. “While you are there, you are going to be on your best behavior. And at some point, you are going to seek out a private moment with Melinda, and—get this—you’re going to say that you’re sorry.”

He stiffened. “But I’m not sorry.”

“Yes, Ted, you are. You’ve been sorry for days, but you’re just too belligerent to admit it. Stop letting your ego get in the way of your happiness.
Don’t let her get away.”

He glowered at me.

Then, slowly, as steam billowed around us, he began to shave.

I watched him for a moment, making sure he wasn’t just faking me out. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to take the presents over to my in-laws’,” he mumbled.

“And?”

“And be nice,” he recited dutifully. “And I’m going to seek out a private moment with Melinda.”

“And?”
This was the most important part.

“I’m going to say I’m sorry.”

“Good for you!” I said, clapping him on the back. “Merry Christmas!”

Shutting the bathroom door, I turned and veered off to the living room and picked up the package I needed. Then I headed back to the kitchen.

“Can I borrow your car keys, Mom?” I asked as I passed through, already pulling them off the peg by the kitchen phone.

Mom, looking startled, stared at the package under my arm. “Where are you going?”

“To pay a visit to St. Nicholas.”

Though there was a large banner outside proclaiming the store to be “Your Headquarters for Christmas,” the inside of Valu-Rite drugstore was practically empty. I saw one shopper in the antacid aisle before catching sight of Isaac in one-hour Santaland. He was slumped in a big chair, next to a tree that looked suspiciously like Mom’s, which had some obviously fake wrapped packages beneath it, and some unwrapped gift ideas, as well. There was a boom box, an off-brand Barbie named Krista, and some kind of plastic kiddie car that already had one wheel askew.

He saw me, straightened, and rang some kind of jingle-bell contraption. As I approached, he smiled uncertainly and then put on a gruff ho-ho voice. “Well Me-e-e-e-rrrie Christmas, little girlie!”

“Merry Christmas yourself, Santa.” I pointed to a stool next to him. “What’s that?”

“That’s my elf helper chair,” he said, still in character.

I looked around the store. The fluorescent lighting made everything look flat and sterile, and the Muzak rendition of “Winter Wonderland” being piped in didn’t enliven the atmosphere. Still, I felt so hopped up it didn’t matter. “Where’s the elf?”

He shrugged and suddenly dropped the Santa act. “He called in sick.”

I sank down on the stool. Isaac was looking at me anxiously. Half of me wanted to jump in his lap and throw my arms around him. The other half of me wanted to strangle him. “What if I had forgotten the napkin and sent my jeans through the laundry?” I barked at him. “Did you ever once consider that?”

His forehead tensed. “You read it, then?”

“Yes.”

“And…?”

“And you got your wish—halfway. My sister stole my boyfriend. But I’m not heartbroken.”

His eyes widened and I could detect a hint of a smile. “You’re not?”

I shook my head.

He looked like he might collapse in relief. It was hard to know what to do next. We both sat there, grinning like fools.

“I brought you a present.” I handed him the package.

“For me?” he asked, delighted. He picked up the big box and shook it.