A Christmas Arrangement (3 page)

And then there were the holidays spent in the company of The Ex and his family.  Of course, this year would be different.  I was looking forward to spending the holidays with Alex as much as possible.  My life had taken some very drastic turns in the last few months and I was grateful for all of them.   

“Well, at the very least, you should hang some mistletoe in that little house of yours,” K.C. said while climbing down.  “Not that you need it to inspire anything.  You’re already getting plenty of
kissing
these days.”

I immediately felt the effects of my horrible, overactive blushing affliction. 

“Oh really?” Daphne looked at me wide-eyed and then grinned at K.C.  “What exactly do you mean by that?”

“Oh kisses are only the beginning for this girl.”

I cleared my throat.  “K.C.,” I said quietly, with a warning voice.

“She’s been doing the old cowboy pokey…”

“K.C.—” My forehead and scalp were as warm as my cheeks.

“Stuffing the turkey, butterin’ the biscuits…” she grabbed a hobby horse that was part of the children’s corner display and put it between her knees.  “Someone’s been riding the pony…”

“Karma Clackerton!”  I looked in horror at Daphne, who was laughing hysterically, tears running down her cheeks.

K.C. began galloping in a circle around the front display room.  “Yodeling in the valley…”

The front door of the shop flung open and my mother walked in.

“
Yodelayheehoo,
” K.C. sung at the top of her lungs.

“It sure is fun in here,” Mom said, her wide-eyed gaze flickering expectantly from person to person.  “What are you girls doing?”

I flung a searing look at K.C. and shook my head in warning.  I had not discussed the extent of my physical activities with Alex with my mother, nor would I ever. 

“We were just talking about something.”  I was never good at bluffing.  And my Mormon mother was not what one would call open-minded when it came to her children’s relationships.  Sex was for after marriage, and I didn’t get a pass because I had been married before.  Actually, I was still married, wasn’t I?  Just not to the guy I was having sex with.  I was pretty sure she wouldn’t be approving of my situation either way.  Especially if she knew I was still married.  Which she didn’t and couldn’t.  Ever. 

K.C. just stood there with the hobby horse between her knees, holding on to the reigns with both hands.  My greatest fear at the moment was that she would speak.  K.C. suffered with a serious affliction of her own, called
lack of filter
. 

“Oh hi, Mrs. McKay,” Daphne said.  “K.C. was just telling us about her cowgirl days, how she used to ride um—horses.  Isn’t that right, K.C.?”  Daphne, bless her, had just earned herself a raise.

“Is that so?” Mom said.  “My father used to be in the Sheriff’s posse.  He and my mother rode together, in fact.  Did you know that, Quincy?”  She turned to look at me and gasped.

“Are you alright, dear?”  She rushed over and held the back of her hand to my forehead.  “You’re burning up.  You must have a fever.”  She put her fingers under either side of my jaw, probing for swollen glands. 

“Ouch.  Mom, stop, please.  I don’t have a fever.  I was just—laughing—at something K.C. said.”  I shot the look of death at K.C. who stood there grinning behind my mother’s back.

“You need to take better care of yourself, Quincy McKay,” Mom said.  “Anyway, I came here for a reason.  I wanted to know what you’re going to make for the Christmas dinner party.  I was thinking you and Alex could bring stuffing for the turkey.

Hysterical laughter erupted from K.C. like lava from Vesuvius, splashing off the high ceilings of our shop.  K.C. wheezed between bouts of giggling and knee slapping.  Daphne, the traitor, let her giggles escape from around her hands, which covered her mouth. 

My mother glanced from my face, which was now probably green, to the other two women. 

"
What
is so funny?" Mom said. 

"Nothing.  Absolutely nothing."  I said.

The front doorbell chimed and Alex walked in.  My knees weakened, whether from embarrassment or just the sight of him, I wasn’t sure.

"Hey everyone."  He surveyed the room with his beautiful brown eyes, walked past K.C. and Daphne, then looked at me with a "what's going on" expression.  "Hi, Mrs. McKay."

"Call me Annette," Mom said.

He came over and put his arm around my shoulders.  "What's so funny?"

"I don't know.  I was just wondering the same thing,” Mom said.  “Well, anyway I was just asking Quincy if you two would like to bring stuffing to our family Christmas party."

"I've got a great recipe for stuffing with sausage and chestnuts," Alex said.

"You should show it to my daughter," Mom said.  “She could learn a thing or two."

K.C. snorted, Daphne doubled over and then K.C.’s laughter morphed into something that might come out of a braying donkey and she dropped to her knees. 

"I don't think I know what's going on," Mom said. 

Alex rushed over to K.C.  "Are you okay?"

“Oh honey, the best I’ve been in years, thanks to you.” 

He helped her stand then glanced over at Daphne who covered her mouth with her fingertips again.  “I don’t want to know the joke, do I?” he asked.

“Mmm maybe, but your girlfriend definitely doesn’t want you to know,” Daphne said through laughter.  “I think she might be looking for a new delivery driver right now.”

He grinned and winked at me.  It had been that wink that stole my heart in the beginning.  It helped to soothe the mortification just a bit.

"So...Annette," Alex continued.  "I'm glad we're talking about your party.  I have a surprise.  And something to ask.”  His eyes twinkled with excitement.  “Since Quincy can't leave work to go meet my parents over the holiday, I decided to ask them to come here.”

He looked at me expectantly, gauging my reaction.  I tried to get my eyes involved when I smiled at him, hoping it would mask the true feelings of terror that suddenly rumbled inside. 

“And they’re totally excited to come,” he said.  “So, I was hoping your invitation to dinner could include them too."

His parents.  Here.  Not just in the vicinity of, but actually
with
my family for the holiday.  What could go wrong?  The list of possible scenarios scrolled through my mind on pace with the national debt ticker.

“What do you think, babe?”

“Yay,” I said weakly.
Smiley eyes, smiley eyes
.

"That's a wonderful idea!” Mom said as she clasped her hands together.  “We would be happy to have you and your parents at our party."  She looped her purse over her shoulder.  “Well, I’ve got to get going.  Alex, I’m so excited to meet your parents.  And Angus will be thrilled.  Do they have a place to stay when they get here?”

Please say yes, please say yes.

“I won’t have them staying in a hotel,” Mom continued.  “Our home is open to them.  We’ve got plenty of room.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I’ve got an extra bedroom at my house.  My mom wants to decorate my place while she’s here.” 

“She sounds wonderful.  Quincy won’t let me decorate her house.  I don’t see why, I helped my mother-in-law decorate it when she lived there.”

“Now, Mother,” I said.  “You know it isn’t true that I won’t let you help.  It just doesn’t need re-decorating.  You already did it for Grandma.”  And I didn’t want my house to become a shrine to the church-craft-night project of the month.

“Well in any case, I’ve got to go.  Your father is going to play Santa for the ward Christmas party and they’ve changed the date for some reason.  I’ve got to work on his costume.”  She turned to leave.

“Wait,” I said.  “Mom, when is the ward party?”

“Why?  Did you want to come?”

Ugh.  Not the time for that discussion.  “I just wondered about the date.  If you’re going to have the costume done in time for the open house, too.”

She pulled a little calendar out of her purse.  “December eighteenth.  When is your open house again?”

I sighed.  “December eighteenth.” 

“Oh no.  Are you sure?”

I’d been planning and going to meetings about this event since the one the year before.  Yes I was sure.  Dad had agreed to fill in as Santa after our regular, “Santa Sal” found out he had to have back surgery.  Dad must have forgotten to tell my mom about it.  “Don’t worry.  I’ll find someone else to do it.”

“Okay, dear.  We’ll talk later.  I’ve got to go.”

Santa Sal was famous for being the best Santa around.  My dad would’ve been a great fill-in, but now I didn’t know what to do.  Each year, Santa would arrive from the North Pole in a helicopter and then kids were invited to come sit with him and get their photo taken.  We’d offset the cost of the holiday celebration by charging parents for a copy of the photo.

I was responsible for making sure this holiday celebration was a success and now I didn’t have a Santa.  I couldn’t let Aunt Rosie or my shop down.  I didn’t want to be known as the one who ruined Rosie’s reputation.

Alex kissed my cheek.  “Are you okay?”

"I'm a little nauseous."

“Maybe you should go home.  I bet K.C. and Daphne wouldn’t mind staying.  Would you?”  He looked at them with his amazing eyes and that strong chin.  How could they say no to that?

“Oh, they owe me big time now,” I said.  “But, I haven’t quite decided when paybacks will come around.”  I narrowed my eyes at K.C. who stuck her tongue out at me.  “I can’t leave, anyway.  I’ve got to finish un-packing a thousand Christmas tree ornaments and figure out why the pre-lit tree over there isn’t lit up.  Not to mention all the phone invitations to our VIP guests.”  And not to mention his parents coming to visit, which was the actual cause of my malaise.

“Could you use some help?” he asked.

“My knight to the rescue.”

CHAPTER THREE

I pulled into my driveway after work, so preoccupied with worry, I’d actually forgotten all about stopping at Bulgy Burger for dinner.  I’d driven right past the restaurant on the way home.  Unthinkable.

There are three main areas of life for me—I’ve gotta keep things simple.  They are in no particular order:  Family, Work and Social.  Two out of the three principles of my life trifecta had major issues.  First, ninety percent of the glass keepsake ornaments I had opened earlier in the day were broken.  And second, Alex’s parents were coming to town. 

The ornaments were collectibles that came out every year.  They were part of a series which were only available one time and the company only sold the line to a limited number of vendors in the country.  Rosie had been with the gift company for years and they’d let me take over her preferred vendor status.  People would come from all over Utah on the day of the open house, many just for the collectible ornament.  Some customers came in from Wyoming and Idaho to carry on their Christmas traditions which were started by my aunt Rosie. 

Now they were coming with their grandchildren, who had received an ornament for their first Christmas, and those grandchildren were now coming to collect them for their own children.  I’d contacted the supplier earlier in the day, who said they were going to “let me know” what they found out about getting replacements to me.  Whether it would be in time for the open house or not was “Something they’d have to research.”  Code for not very likely. 

And then there was Alex’s news.  Yes, I was worried about the ornaments and everything else involved with the open house, but those concerns paled in comparison to the ominous visit from Alex’s parents.  Not only was he going to bring his parents into my little corner of Crazy Town, but our first face to face meeting would also be with my family at the annual McKay Christmas party. 

This was where crazy was invented. 

Once my great aunt Sadie shared a glimpse of the scar from her extra toe, after she’d described her latest mole removal procedure, Alex’s parents would turn to me and wonder what part of the gene pool I had inherited.

And then my mother, in an attempt to sound congenial and accepting, would ask something along the lines of whether they drank wine or not and then she would say something judgmental.  All the time being well-meaning, of course.  It’s always well-meaning.  And that would only be within the first five minutes after their arrival. 

We didn’t have the annual party during the years where my parents were separated, but this year the old tradition would be renewed.  Distant relatives would be there along with their food specialties.  This was the occasion where ghost recipes of Family “Favorites” Past, which should have been left to rest in their sweet marshmallow hereafter, would be resurrected for all to pretend to enjoy.

Despite my lack of enthusiasm for Christmas decorating and lack of overall holiday cheer, there were certain aspects of Christmastime that I truly looked forward to.  As soon as I’d turned the corner onto my street, I’d taken a moment from my worry over ruining everyone’s Christmas and showing the Coopers how unworthy I was of their son, to think about what might be awaiting me at home.

Usually, once I pulled into my driveway, I would enter through the gate leading to the backyard.  But not at this time of year.  This time, I went to my front gate instead.  Because on my front porch would be my favorite Christmas tradition, homemade treats from Santa’s Elves.  I lived in a neighborhood infested with Christmas Elves who handmade and delivered all manner of delights to the palate, always in complete anonymity.  Of course, I always ended up knowing who had sent what, because everybody had their specialties.  And occasionally I would accidently see one of the elves or their assistants leaving the gifts on my porch. 

My next-door neighbor, Sarah made the best fudge.  Before my grandmother died and I inherited her house, she’d shared her fudge recipe with Sarah.  Elves also brought divinity, white chocolate covered pretzels, nasty squares made with candied fruits, caramels, toffee and oh, the peanut brittle.  It didn’t stop with candy.  There were baked goods, like whole wheat bread, cinnamon rolls, brownies (mint brownies that were rumored to be from the top secret recipe of the BYU bakery), chocolate chip cookies and sugar cookies decorated with great panache and an artful hand.  The gifts started sometimes before December even commenced, clear until New Year’s Eve.