McKnight in Shining Armor (19 page)

K
ELSIE SAT ON
the floor of her living room wearing gray sweat pants and an old black sweater. She leaned back against the couch, a king-size box of tissues on one side of her, a five-pound box of assorted chocolates on the other. Her hair was a mess, and her eyes and nose were red and puffy from crying. It was Monday morning, the start of week two after her breakup with Alec. Jeff and Elizabeth were in school. As if they had sensed her need to be alone, her pets had disappeared. The drapes were closed. The radio muttered to itself in the background.

She’d never felt lower in her life. After her divorce she had been depressed, and, certainly, she had been terrified, but she had never felt like this, like fate had dropped an anvil on her head. She had lost Alec. She had lost the Van Bryant account. She was almost certainly going to lose her business.

The week after the infamous Humane Society bazaar incident had been dismal. She’d spent that week soul-searching and bursting into tears at the mere sight of a candy bar. However, it had been a productive week. She had come to some very important conclusions about herself and had resolved to get Alec back.

Alec had made a valid point about her reasons for joining all those groups she belonged to. It was true they had helped her establish her independence, but there was more to it. When her marriage had ended, she had needed involvement. Belonging to a group also had provided a measure of security. A volunteer organization couldn’t find her lacking in any way, it would never cheat on her or leave her. No matter what happened in other areas of her life, it would always be there
for her to cling to, the same way she clung to her sense of independence.

The trouble was, all the clubs and organizations in the world weren’t going to fill the emptiness Alec’s absence had left inside her. Independence was a great thing, but it couldn’t put its arms around her or laugh with her or share her joy when she watched her son score a goal playing hockey.

She had been a coward. She’d been preparing herself for the end of her relationship with Alec before she’d even been involved with him.

What a fool she’d been. Alec wasn’t Jack. Alec had charged to her rescue time and again. He had battered down her defenses and shown her how to have fun. She had almost forgotten what it was to feel like a woman—not just a mom or an agent or a chairperson, but a woman with passions and needs. Alec had shown her. He had given her his shoulder to lean on, his arms to protect her, his hand to guide her, his heart to love her. If any man deserved the title “knight in shining armor,” it was Alec.

She’d been crazy to push him out of her life. They had found something special together, and she had been too big a coward to believe it could last.

Having made those discoveries about herself, Kelsie resolved to push aside her fears, to risk her pride and her heart and her damnable independence to prove to Alec how much she loved him, and to win him back.

If things had gone according to plan, she would have presented Alec with an apology and two very special gifts after the shooting of the first of the Darwin/Van Bryant ads. But things hadn’t gone according to plan, and the letters of resignation she’d written to her groups and the blank calendar she’d hoped Alec would want to fill in with special times for the two of them to be together had been abandoned at the studio, left behind after Alec had thrown her and her client out.

She’d never seen him so angry. Of course, she reflected, he’d had every reason to be. As soon as the camera started to roll, Darwin had gone berserk on the set, attacked Eugene Van Bryant, destroyed several hundred dollars worth of props. The Van Bryant people had left shouting dire threats of lawsuits. Alec had been barely civil to Kelsie when she’d arrived, but she had seen the hurt beneath his controlled anger. After she and
Millard had finally gotten Darwin under control, the only thing she’d seen in Alec’s eyes had been pure unadulterated fury.

“Everything that could go wrong went wrong,” she said, biting into a mint. “They’re going to have to start calling it Kelsie’s Law; Murphy’s got nothing on me.”

She was going to lose the business she had worked so hard to build. Her commission on the Van Bryant account had been essential to the continuing operation of Monkey Business. Now, not only was she out the money, but she would probably be facing law suits from Van Bryant and Glendenning Advertising as well. The financial ramifications were not pleasant.

She sat staring at the Christmas tree she and the kids and Alec had put up the week after Thanksgiving. Even if it was only four days before Christmas, it looked terribly out of place, much too festive for the mood she was in. The brightly wrapped packages beneath it made her think only one thing: She had hit the limit on her credit cards. She’d had to dig through all the neatly arranged boxes to find the one from her great-aunt Lena—the
now unwrapped box of chocolates at her side. God bless Lena Lindberg, Kelsie thought, popping a bonbon into her mouth. She was nothing if not predictable.

No matter how hard she tried, it seemed her life was endlessly fouled up in one way or another. How did things go so wrong, she asked herself yet again. More important, what was she going to do about it? Step one was simple, she told herself as she pulled a section of the
Sunday Tribune
off the couch. She had to find a job. She paged through the classifieds, not really reading any of the ads.

She kept thinking that things wouldn’t seem so bad if she hadn’t lost Alec. If Alec were there to smile at her and put his arms around her, she could have found a lighter side to her bad luck. But Alec wasn’t going to rescue her this time. She had never gotten the chance to apologize to him or tell him what he meant to her. Judging from the way he’d treated her on the set, it probably wouldn’t have made any difference. He’d made it abundantly clear he was finished with her and her loony life style.

She wondered for the hundredth time if he had
gotten in trouble over the Darwin disaster. Did vice-presidents lose their jobs over things like that, or only people like Steve Randall? Kelsie had tried all weekend to call Steve, but had spoken only to his answering machine.

“You’ve got to pull yourself together, Kelsie,” she said aloud but with no conviction as she lifted another chocolate to her mouth.

She would pull herself together. She would dig herself out of this hole because she was a strong person, because she knew her children depended on her. First, however, she would allow herself the luxury of feeling miserable, of grieving for things lost and things that could never be, because she was human.

The fifth piece of chocolate—Kelsie had high hopes it was a caramel—was halfway to her mouth when the doorbell rang. At first she thought there was no one there. She looked from left to right. A jingling sound drew her gaze down. A brown spider monkey in a Santa suit stared up at her, offering her a small package wrapped in red and green plaid paper.

“Now, I know you didn’t ring the bell, little
monkey,” Kelsie said. “How’d you get here. Where’s your accomplice?”

She looked up and down the street but didn’t see a soul. The monkey chattered at her and jingled the bells on his suit, his long tail twitching in either nervousness or annoyance. When she took the package from him, he doffed his hat and gave her a toothy grin. Then a shrill whistle sounded and the monkey bounded off the steps, dashing to a brown sedan parked across the street. The car was gone before Kelsie could get a good look at the driver.

Closing the door, she looked down at the solid rectangular package. Who would be sending her a Christmas gift via a spider monkey? The tag gave no clue as to the identity of the gift giver, but instructed her to open it immediately. How strange, she thought, giving the thing a wary look. Slowly she lifted it to her ear and held her breath, listening.

“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” she grumbled. “You’ve really gone off the deep end if you think someone would actually have a monkey hand-deliver a bomb to you, Kelsie.”

She dropped down on the couch and removed the wrapping from the package.

It was a videotape. There was no label explaining what was on the tape or why it had been given to her. There was no hint as to who had sent it. She popped it into her machine and turned the TV on, speculating all the while.

“Hello, I’m Eugene Van Bryant, president of Van Bryant Department Stores.”

Kelsie’s eyes nearly doubled in size. It was the beginning of the ill-fated ad they’d shot on Friday. Darwin raised his arms over his head, looked directly into the camera, and let loose a hair-curling shriek. Before he bounded out of Van Bryant’s arms, he attacked the man’s neatly combed white hair and set his glasses askew, then he went crazy. Kelsie watched the whole incredible scene unfold again, the camera focusing on the chimp’s antics as he flung merchandise in every direction, swung from clothing racks, and dove headfirst into a bin of throw pillows.

Darwin exuberantly trashed what appeared to be a Van Bryant store to the tune of “Wipe Out.” It was hysterically funny to her now that she was sitting in her living room watching it happen instead of on the set trying to catch the little monster. What
was even funnier after having lived through the disaster was that it looked as if the whole thing had been planned. The occasional cutaway from the chimp to Mr. Van Bryant looking like the “nutty professor” was sheer genius. Kelsie was laughing so hard by the time the mini music video finished, she almost missed hearing the voice-over at the end—“Go ape at Van Bryant’s.”

That started another fit of laughter as she dragged herself off the couch to rewind the tape. She had to wipe the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand before she could see well enough to push the right button on the machine. An image of the disheveled Mr. Van Bryant came to mind, and she doubled over laughing, knocking her head on the edge of the television.

“Ouch! Oh! Go ape at Van Bryant’s!” she said, gasping, her whole body jiggling like a gelatin mold run amok.

The doorbell rang before Kelsie had a chance to wonder what effect this piece of film might have on her life. Holding her stomach, she made her way across the living room. “Get a grip, Kelsie,”
she ordered herself, taking a deep breath before swinging the door open.

Alec stood on her front step wearing a Santa suit without the beard. Seeing him sobered Kelsie more quickly than a cold shower would have. A chill ran through her that had nothing to do with the frigid air pouring into the house from outside. Her heart began to hammer in her chest.

“Alec,” she gasped.

“Merry Christmas,” he said softly. His smile held the familiar, symmetrical tilt of his lips, hinting he knew all the most delicious secrets in the world—but there was something else there too. For the first time since she’d met him, Kelsie saw uncertainty in his smile, in the depths of his blue eyes. “Can I come in? I’m freezing my jingle bells off out here.”

“Yes. Of course. Come in.” She stepped back from the door, nerves forcing her to run a hand over her tangled hair. Her gaze swept the living room in a hasty reconnaissance. It looked like vandals had thrown a party, but there was nothing she could do about it now.

Alec closed the door behind him and looked
Kelsie straight in the eye. “Well? What do you think?”

What did she think about what, she wondered wildly. How he looked in a Santa suit? Wonderful, of course. She would have thought he looked wonderful in a clown suit.

“The Darwin video,” he clarified, pulling off his Santa hat. Several strands of red-tinted dark hair fell across his forehead. “Did you like it?”

She’d been so stunned to see him, she completely forgot about the videotape. “Oh! Yes! You sent it? Where did you get the spider monkey?”

“Neillson’s Petting Zoo. He’s a client of yours.” He didn’t tell her he’d sent the monkey, because he thought she might have slammed the door in his face. He wouldn’t have blamed her if she had, after the way he’d treated her.

“Nice touch,” she said.

“Thanks.” He could see she’d been crying and automatically blamed himself. Her hair needed combing; his fingers itched to touch it. Lord, how he’d missed her! Even when he’d been furious with her he had ached to hold her.

“The video was hysterical. Is it for real? I mean, are you really going to use it?”

“You bet. Steve Randall and I, and a very disgruntled film editor, worked all weekend on that baby. It took some doing to get Mr. Van Bryant to look at it, but once he did, he loved it. He laughed so hard, I thought we were going to have to give him oxygen. He’s talking about putting the long version in movie theaters to run before the previews.”

“That’s wonderful.” Kelsie smiled as she felt the financial noose loosen around her neck. “Millard will be relieved too.”

“Millard will be rich,” Alec corrected her. “Van Bryant is talking about doubling the amount of advertising he wants to do with this new campaign. He’s even talking about using it as a springboard to launch new stores nationwide. Darwin is going to be a star, and that little beauty of a commercial is going to win Glendenning a Clio. See if it doesn’t.”

“You saved the day again,” Kelsie said softly, thinking of how many times he had rushed to her rescue, her McKnight in shining armor.

A self-deprecating smile twisted his mouth. “I
saved my fanny from getting kicked onto the unemployment line too.”

“I’m glad,” Kelsie said with an uncertain smile. She wanted to believe that hadn’t been his only reason for working around the clock on the new idea but was afraid to put too much stock in her hopes. She gave a little shrug. “I thought you’d scrap the idea. I thought you hated it, and then after what happened Friday—”

“I was wrong,” he said simply, seriously. He came forward and reached out a hand, running it over her hair. His heart was in his throat. She had every reason to toss him out, even if he had brought good news. “I was wrong about a lot of things, Kelsie. I acted like a world-class jerk on Friday. And at the inn I said some pretty rotten things—”

“Some pretty true things too,” she interrupted quietly, looking down at his shiny black boots.