Our First Christmas (11 page)

I'd like to thank my editor, John Scognamiglio, and all the staff at Kensington who work so hard on every manuscript; my agent, Evan Marshall; and all the wonderful people I met in Wilmington, North Carolina. I would especially like to thank Sara Strassle for allowing me to tour her beautiful home and “use it” for the Christmas gala.

 

To Elijah and Amelia, who keep the spirit of Christmas alive.

Danielle Bright and Nathaniel Hathaway walked hand in hand down the boardwalk. It was a picture-perfect Christmas Eve. There was a tiny nip in the air, and the skies were littered with stars. Boats along the river were decked out in Christmas lights and displays, floating their holiday cheer up and down the Cape Fear River. The horse and carriage was coming in for the night; the telltale
clip-clop
rang out even before the white beauty came into view. The driver treated the pair to a wink and a wave, and Dani and Nate smiled and waved back. The horse, a Percheron, was one of five rescued draft horses that they rotated in and out of short shifts. They were well-treated and friendly, like most folks about town.

The air had the smell of cookies just out of the oven. Dani could imagine racks of them cooling on counters up and down Front Street, awaiting icing and Santa. Dani smiled at the thought of all the children hyped up even before licking the bowl. She glanced at the skies as if trying to spot flying reindeer. The huge tourist paddleboat, the
Henrietta,
was just pulling in from its moonlight cruise. The ship honked its horn, as if winking at the young couple on the shore.

Nate's hands were clammy, which wasn't like him. She hoped he wasn't coming down with something. They were having Christmas dinner at his grandmother's house, and Danielle couldn't imagine missing the exquisite feast. She absolutely loved going to Ruth Hathaway's gorgeous historic home on Christmas. Oh, she loved spending the mornings with her parents and sister, of course, but there was no denying the special pull she had toward Ruth's festivities.

Ruth Hathaway had a passion for the holidays that could not be beat. Her home always boasted the best decorations inside and out, the food and drink were a culinary dream, and not a single detail was ever overlooked, right down to chestnuts literally roasting over a roaring fire. And this year, Dani's entire family was invited. Just thinking how special it would be infused Dani with the Christmas spirit. Beside her, Nate cleared his throat.

She would have to encourage him to take some vitamin C before bed, and if he woke up with the sniffles, he was just going to have to power through it. Just ahead towered the town Christmas tree. Dani and Nate were just a few feet from it when the scent of pine reached her nose. Dani stopped, dropped Nate's hand, and gasped. “It's live,” she said.

Nate grinned. “You got your wish this year,” he said. Normally, it was an artificial tree, something that really got to Dani. But this year. What a surprise. What a beauty she was.

“Did you know?” Dani asked Nate.

Nate nodded. “It's a regal blue spruce specially cut from the mountains in Asheville.”

“It's unbelievable. They did it. They finally did it.” The multicolored lights glittered like precious gems in the night. Just as they passed the tree, Nate stopped, swung her around, took her hands in his, and gazed into her eyes. There was a twinkle in his eye. Nate got down on one knee. The clues finally gelled. He was going to propose.

Before she could even think, her body reacted. She yanked him back up. He was off balance, and startled. She took a moment to look into his eyes. Normally a greenish-blue, next to the tree tonight they were the color of emeralds. A perfect contrast to his dark hair. He was such a handsome young man, and they had been happily going steady for three years. But she was only twenty-four. And they hadn't had the talk yet, not really, about the future. To Danielle, it seemed a sure thing, but far off. At least three years. Even five. She wasn't ready to settle down and have kids. And as much as she loved Wilmington, North Carolina, their little “Hollywood of the East,” she wanted to see other places before they started a life together. More specifically, she wanted to see New York. No, that wasn't the exact truth. She didn't just want to see New York. She wanted to be a part of New York; she wanted to
live
in New York. And Nate had stated numerous times that there was nowhere he'd rather be but right here. It was sweet, but it was also maddening. She had resolved to talk to him about it in the New Year.

“Nate,” she said. He smiled and squeezed her hands, and only then could she see how nervous he was. And how well dressed. Why hadn't she noticed before that he was wearing his blue blazer? There were a few other people roaming about, but mostly they had the boardwalk to themselves. An older couple stopped to take a picture of the tree. Music was playing nearby. Danielle couldn't tell where exactly it was coming from, but suddenly she realized what it was. Her favorite Christmas song, “It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas,” sung by the one and only Bing Crosby. Nate had planned that, too. He reached into his pocket. He was so nervous he wasn't picking up on her attempts to stop him.

“Wait,” Dani said. The couple who had stopped to take the picture were openly staring in anticipation. Smiling. Holding the camera up, just waiting to get a snapshot of his face when she said, “Yes. I will. I will marry you.” Dani leaned down. “Pretend you're tying your shoe,” she said.

“What?” Dani pointed to his shoe. He stared at it, then stared at her, and raised an eyebrow.

The words were out of her mouth before she could censor them, soften them. She clasped her hands as if she was the one proposing. She dropped to one knee, too, so that they were nose-to-nose. Anyone who saw them would probably think they were putting on some sort of strange nativity performance. Dani could have used the guidance of a wise man tonight, preferably all three. Or even a shining star to guide her. But all she had was herself. And the burning feeling in her gut that if he asked her now, there would never, ever be a later. “Please don't ask me,” she said. “Please, not here. Not now.”

Nate's eyes bore into hers for a few seconds, before he glanced behind her. At first, she was annoyed. He couldn't be that upset if he was so easily distracted, if he didn't even want to hear why she was stopping the proposal.
Delaying the proposal.
Of course she would marry Nate. Just later than sooner. They had all the time in the world. She turned around to see what had captured his attention. What a fright!

The boardwalk behind them was now teeming with people ready to celebrate. So many of them. Piling off the
Henrietta
's moonlight cruise. All their friends and family, come to witness this romantic moment. Nate had timed everything perfectly. Passing the tree, stopping to gawk. The boat pulling in. The captain playing her favorite Christmas song. So that by the time she said yes, they would turn around to a thunderous cheer, and the popping of champagne. The horse and carriage was indeed waiting take one more spin that night, this time just for the luckiest couple in the world.

Slowly, it dawned on her. “You had the tree flown in,” she said.

“Just for you,” he replied.

Oh yes. Nate Hathaway had seen to every tiny detail. Every detail, but one. He had never counted on Danielle Bright saying anything other than a resounding “Yes.”

“Just what is a Southern Christmas?” Adel asked the question and everyone at the conference table looked as if they were pondering it, except Dani, who slid a few inches down into her chair, hoping it wouldn't happen, but inevitably Adel's eyes landed on her and remained. Soon, the entire room was looking at her. Could she really be the only employee here from the South? “Well?” Adel said in a tone that suggested she did not have time for Dani to slip all the way under the table and crawl to the exit on her hands and knees.

“There are three things you need to know about a Southern Christmas,” Dani said. Lately she'd noticed that Adel responded to lists of three. She nodded at Dani to continue and took her seat. “One,” Dani said, holding up her index finger and stalling for time.

“There will be food. Two—”

“We all have food,” Adel answered. She sounded suspicious now.

“Do you have cheesy biscuits, and grits, and country ham?”

“No, we do not,” Adel said, feverishly tapping on her iPad. She was back on board now. “Wait. You have that for breakfast? On Christmas morning?”

“Well—my family would often have that breakfast as the main meal on Christmas Day.”

“Oh my God.”

“But that's just us. Others go all-out. Southern meals at Christmastime, are you kidding me? Beef tenderloin with homemade mustard dip, sweet potato biscuits, glazed ham and sage-crusted pork with pear chutney, standing rib roasts with red wine mushroom, and turkey with figgy port wine sauce—”

“Figgy port wine sauce,” Adel echoed.

“—Montgomery punch, cheese dreams—”

“Cheese dreams,” Adel repeated as if she was in a dream.

“Mini corn cakes with smoked salmon and dill crème fraiche, cheesy grits soufflé, pecan bourbon balls—”

“Stop or I'm going to wet my pants!” Adel looked as if Dani had been to an exotic new land. “Two?” she asked grasping her pen like a torch she was about to pass.

Two was easy. Two was one of the things Dani missed the most about Christmas in the South. “Two, there will always be a gala.” Instantly, she was in Ruth's gorgeous home. Violinists playing Christmas carols along with the pianist. The table elaborately set with the finest china, and ribbons falling from the chandelier, and skyscraper candles resting in mini-wreaths, and always a showstopper centerpiece. Dani's favorite was the year Ruth had a gorgeous white swan pulling a red sleigh.

And, oh, the smells. Ham, and turkey, and corn bread stuffing, and so many delicate little appetizers that Dani often fasted for days before the dinner just so she could taste as many as possible. Christmas cocktails and champagne on ice. Mountains of delectable desserts, but Dani's favorite was always Ruth's red velvet white chocolate cheese cake. There should be a book made in its honor.
The one cheesecake to try before you die
. And the people were adorned just as beautifully as the food and decorations. Women in beautiful gowns and glittering jewels, and men in tuxes. A roaring fire, and every inch of space tastefully decorated for the holidays. She'd been dancing with Nate at Christmas galas since she was sixteen. He'd been so nervous that first time, his hands so clammy. She'd wanted him to kiss her so bad. It didn't happen until the second year, and that was only because Dani cornered him on the upper deck with mistletoe. Not that he resisted—

“A gala,” Adel repeated. “I love it.” Heads nodded up and down the table. They loved it, too. All but one.

“A gala?” Sawyer said. He drew the word out in his Texan drawl like he was a ten-year-old, and she was in pigtails, and they were at recess.

“Yes, Sawyer, a gala,” Dani said. “It's a formal affair. Nothing you'd ever be invited to.” Danielle knew she was taking the bait, but she couldn't help it. She'd been taking his sarcasm for six months now. Recently she'd stopped ignoring it and started firing back. His grin, however, made her think twice. He was loving the verbal Ping-Pong.

“Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn,” Sawyer said.

“You can read,” Dani said. “What a surprise.”

“There was a book?” Sawyer said. “I was quoting the movie.” He winked. Dani scowled. He winked again and Dani bit her lip before he noticed her involuntary smile. Too late. He sat back and grinned as if they'd just shared a dirty secret.

“Southern women would just eat you up, cowboy,” Adel said to Sawyer, treating him to a wink of her own. Dani clenched her fists under the table. They probably would. How irritating. Adel turned back to Dani. “Has your family ever hosted a gala?”

“Oh God, no,” Dani said. Adel raised an eyebrow. “We lived by the beach. We were comfortable, but not one of Wilmington's elite.”

“Ahhh,” Adel said, nodding as if she suspected it all along.

“So it sounds like you weren't invited to this gala, either,” Sawyer said.

“Of course I was,” Dani said. “I was Nate Hathaway's girlfriend.” Sawyer raised his eyebrow. Oh, she shouldn't let him get to her, she just shouldn't, but he did, and she couldn't help but take the bait. He drove her insane! Why did everybody else think his cowboy act was so cute? Couldn't they see how arrogant he was? “Nate's from one of the most prominent families in town.” The moment the words were out of her mouth she regretted it. It made him sound stuffy and boring. Nate might have been from a prominent family, but he was just as down to earth as she was. God, she missed him. What did she have to do to get him to speak to her again?

“And yet here you are,” Sawyer said with a slow smile.

“What?” Dani said. Could he read her mind?

“Slumming it with us,” Sawyer said. He pinned her with his eyes. Dani stared back, openmouthed. She had half a mind to throw something at him. Perhaps water in the face. And smack him. She would really love to smack him across the face. How did he do that? Zero in on her as if there was no one else in the room? Pin her with his eyes. He was trying to seduce her in plain sight, and she was letting him get his hooks into her. The nerve to be so brazen in front of everyone. It made her feel a little flushed, and then angry.

“It's settled, then,” Adel said. “You'll do a feature on a typical Southern Christmas—”

“No!” Oh no. Did she say that out loud? But she couldn't show her face back home. Not until she worked out her plan to get Nate to forgive her. Two years and he still hadn't spoken to her since that horrific Christmas Eve. Dani backpedaled. “I really don't think we qualify as a typical Southern Christmas. I mean, we're more of a little beach town, you know? Wilmywood? The Hollywood of the East?” She was treated to stares all around. Apparently they didn't keep up with the shows that were filmed in Wilmington. “
Under the Dome
?
Sleepy Hollow
?
Revolution
?
Iron Man 3
?”

“You watch a lot of TV,” Sawyer said. “See? We do have something in common.”

Dani went to respond, but instead of words, a growl escaped her lips. An actual growl. She was mortified. The others laughed as if she was trying to be funny. If they only knew that something about Sawyer turned on all her primal instincts to defend and attack.

“Easy, tiger,” Sawyer said. He knew, she thought. He knew exactly the effect he was having on her.

“Maybe you could throw in a picture of a celebrity,” Adel says. “Or the film crew. But mostly I just want a Southern Christmas theme. I like where Sawyer was going. Give us
Gone with the Wind,
the Christmas edition.”

What?
“You know that was Atlanta, right?” If they only knew. She'd already burned down the town by burning Nate. Still, Dani hoped she didn't sound too sarcastic. Two years on staff, and Dani was still treated as if she were an intern. Adel ran her magazine the opposite of a ship's captain. She was onboard until things started to sink, and then she was the first to jump. Adel loved this idea now, but if Dani didn't write it to her liking, she would make sure that Dani was the one treading water without a lifeboat. Was this why she had come to New York? To be teased by transplanted cowboys and treated like she had no creative ideas of her own? Had she made the biggest mistake of her life turning down Nate and running off to New York? She had to get Adel off this Southern idea and then pitch something she really wanted to write. Christmas in the City—New York—where she was invisible but not hated. “I don't really think of Wilmington as Southern, Southern—we're kind of Northern, Southern. You know what I mean?”
What are you doing, Dani? She wants to give you a Christmas feature. You're going to shoot yourself in the foot
.
No wonder she still treats you like an intern.
“Why don't I cover Christmas here in the city?” Dani said. “Maybe something a little more substantial?” She treaded lightly.

Adel frowned. “Like what?”

“Like—an exposé on the men behind the store Santas?”

“Why?” Adel asked.

“Because we let children sit on their laps! Who are these men? Alcoholics, drug addicts—perverts? I mean, wouldn't you like to know how many Santas are on crack?” Adel looked around the table. It was impressive how still the others kept their faces, waiting to see what she thought before they reacted. At least Adel wasn't screaming no. Dani pressed on. “I could do all five boroughs.”

“Lucky boroughs,” Sawyer said. For once Dani ignored him.

Unfortunately, so did Adel. She was completely focused on Dani. “Do you even read this magazine?”

“Of course.” Full of fluff. And more fluff. And recipes for fluff. And now she wanted holiday fluff. “I just thought we might like to branch out a little.”

“You want to go dark, is that it? Why don't we just cover Christmas suicides?”

“I could do that.”

Adel pounded her fist on the table. “I was joking! Are all Southerners this gloomy around Christmas?”

“I'm not gloomy. I just think—”

“Don't! Let me do the thinking. Maybe there's something here. We could expose the South as Confederate Grinches. How does that sound?”

“Horrible. It sounds horrible,” Dani said. And true. Kind of true.

“I can see Dani's point,” Sawyer said. Heads snapped his way.

“Christmas can be stressful. We could give our readers an ultimate sense of relief by acknowledging that,” he said.

Adel smiled at Sawyer. If he had suggested Santas on crack, Adel would probably be sitting in his lap by now. She turned on Dani again. “
Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil
. Is your town anything like that?” Adel was really excited now. If you gave her a mirror and mistletoe, she'd be kissing herself.

“No. Nothing like that.”

“Oh. Is there anyone here from Georgia, or Alabama, or anywhere
really
Southern, not fake Southern where Dani is from?” Adel asked. Heads shook all around the table.

“Okay, so Dani obviously doesn't want a feature for Christmas,” Adel said. “Does anyone else want a feature?”

The other writers' hands shot into the air.

“Wait,” Dani said. “I do want a feature.”

“On what? A ‘Not-so Southern Christmas'?” Adel said. “Yawn.”

“I'd like to do something on ‘The War on Christmas,'” Beth Green said. Beth was always trying to outdo Dani. They both longed to be taken seriously as writers. And here was Beth suggesting something Dani would like to do herself.

“As long as Christmas wins the war,” Adel said. “Then I like it.”

“No,” Dani said. “I said I'll do it.”

“And I said you've bored me already,” Adel said. “Beth, you and Sawyer need to get as many Christmas-haters photographed as possible. Maybe start with Dani here—our Southern Scrooge. Then hit the streets. If you see anyone kicking a reindeer—shoot it—”

Dani shot out of her chair. “You're right. I am a Southern Scrooge. But I didn't used to be. I used to love Christmas.”

“And I care, why?” Adel asked.

“Because I think it would make a great story.”

“Not feeling it,” Adel said.

“Two years ago my fiancé, Nate Hathaway, proposed to me on Christmas Eve.” All eyes were on her again. Especially Sawyer. But she couldn't think about that now. “He had involved the entire town. Flew a real Christmas tree in from across the state. Had a flash mob waiting to congratulate us. Hired out the horse and carriage for the night. And I said no. Because I wanted to move here to be a famous writer. Nate hasn't spoken to me in two years. And all I want for Christmas is Nate. I want to go to Wilmington and win him back. I'll write about it every step of the way, and Sawyer can come with me and shoot anyone he wants.”

“I'm starting to feel like an assassin,” Sawyer quipped.

“If he takes me back, it will be a Christmas miracle. If he doesn't—you'll get your Southern Christmas.”

“Hmmm,” Adel said.

“Nate Hathaway,” Dani said. “He's like royalty in Wilmington. A true prince.”

“You turned down the town prince?” Sawyer said. “They must want your head on a platter.” He put his hand over his heart.

“Along with the Christmas goose!” Dani said. “Southerners eat goose, too. And my goose is cooked!” She didn't know why she was going on like that except Adel seemed to come to life whenever Dani put herself down.

“Somebody Google Nate Hathaway,” Adel said.