The Mistletoe Promise (3 page)

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Authors: Richard Paul Evans

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BOOK: The Mistletoe Promise
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CHAPTER

Five

Bad memories can attach themselves like barnacles to the hulls of our lives. And, like barnacles, they have a disproportionately large amount of drag.

Elise Dutton’s Diary

Zoey screamed. Cathy, our company bookkeeper, and I rushed out of our offices to see a florist deliveryman standing in the middle of the office holding a massive bouquet of yellow roses. It was one of the largest bouquets I’d ever seen, the kind people were more likely to send to the dead than the living. Of course the man was drooling over Zoey.

“They’re gorgeous,” Cathy said. “Who are they from?”

“I don’t know,” Zoey said. “Probably Paul. Or Quentin. Could even be Brody. So many men, so many possibilities.”

I rolled my eyes at her theatrics.

“Where would you like them?” the man asked.

“Oh, just set them there,” Zoey said, motioning to her desk. “It practically takes up my whole desk.”

“And if I could have you sign right here.” He handed Zoey an electronic clipboard. Her expression abruptly changed. “They’re not for me.” She looked up at me. “They’re for you.”

“Elise?” Cathy said, not masking her surprise.

Just then Mark, our boss, walked into the room.

“Those are pretty . . . massive,” he said, looking at Zoey. “Who now?”

“They’re not for me,” Zoey said. “They’re for Elise.”

He looked at me. “Someone’s got a fever for you.”

I walked over to my flowers. There was a small, unsealed envelope attached to the vase. I extracted the card.

Dear Elise,

Happy Day 1. I hope the flowers brighten your day.

—Nick

“Who are they from?” Cathy asked.

I looked back up at them. “What?”

“Who gave them to you?”

“Just . . . a guy.”

“What guy?” Zoey asked.

“My
boyfriend
.” The word came out awkwardly.

They both looked at me with expressions of bewilderment.

“You have a boyfriend?” Zoey asked.

“It’s new,” I said. I lifted the heavy vase and carried it to my office.
Thank you, thank you, thank you,
I thought. I couldn’t wait to thank Nicholas.

Flowers are complicated. The last time I had received flowers from a man was a nightmare. I was in the hospital and I’d just come out of intensive care after almost dying from a burst appendix, but the pain I remember most wasn’t caused
by the operation. It was caused by my husband. But I’ll share more of that later.

I debated over whether or not I should take the flowers home, but finally decided to leave them at the office. I told myself that they were so big I doubted I could get them into my apartment without damaging them. But really I think I left them in the office in defiance of my co-workers’ incredulity. Driving home, all I could think about was that it had been the best day I’d had in a long time.

The next morning at work I was making copies of a travel itinerary for a group of high school students from Boise, Idaho, when I heard Zoey greet someone.

“I have a delivery for Elise Dutton,” a man said.

I walked out of my office. “That would be me.”

“Here you go,” the man said, handing me a box.

“What is it?” Zoey asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “It’s wrapped.” I opened the box and smiled. “Oh. Chocolate cordials.” I wondered how he knew that I loved them. There was a card.

Happy Day 2, Elise. So far so good?

—Nick

“What are cordials?” Zoey asked.

“Chocolate-covered cherries,” I said.

“Why don’t they just call them chocolate-covered cherries?”

“Because they’re cordials,” I replied. I took one out and popped it into my mouth. It was delicious. “Want one?”

“Sure.” She looked a little injured as she walked over to me. “Tell me more about this guy.”

Even though it was the first time she’d ever asked me about my personal life, I didn’t want to share. “He’s really just more of a friend,” I said.

“Guys don’t send chocolates and massive flower bouquets just to be friends. There’s always an agenda. What’s the lowdown?”

“His name is Nicholas.”

“What does he do?”

“He’s a lawyer on the seventh floor.”

“Nicholas what?”

“Derr.”

She puzzled a moment then said, “As in Derr, Nelson and McKay? You’re dating one of the partners?”

“We’re just . . .” The truth was, I didn’t know whether or not he was a partner, but Zoey’s incredulity made me angry. “Yes. Of course.”

“Oh,” she said. “Well done.”

“Don’t look so surprised,” I said.

“It’s just that you’ve never showed much interest in dating.”

“Maybe I just hadn’t met the right man,” I replied.

“Nicholas is the right man?”

“Maybe.” This was already more fun than I’d thought it would be. “I’ve decided to at least give him until Christmas.”

“You’re giving
him
until Christmas?”

“I think that’s enough time to see if I like him.”

She looked almost stunned. “Okay,” she said. She started to turn away, then said, “Oh, could you trade me lunchtimes today? I met this guy last night and he’s coming to meet me.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m meeting Nicholas.”

You have no idea how good it felt saying no. It was the first time I’d ever turned her down. It was the first time I’d had a reason to.

A little after noon I went to the food court. Nicholas wasn’t there yet, so I ordered my usual salad and sat down at my usual table. Nicholas showed up about ten minutes later.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” he said, looking stressed. “Long-winded client, antitrust stuff. Too dull to discuss.”

“It’s okay,” I said.

He sat down across from me. “How’s your day?”

“Good,” I said. “Thank you for the flowers. They’re beautiful.”

“Like you.”

I smiled a little. “And the chocolates.”

“Do you like chocolate?”

“All women like chocolate. It’s like female catnip.”

He grinned. “I hoped as much.”

“You don’t need to spend so much, you know.”

“I know,” he said simply.

“Are you going to get something to eat?”

“No, I’m sorry. I know we were going to go through our schedules today, but my morning fell apart and I have to get back to that meeting. I just didn’t want to leave you hanging down here alone.”

“It’s okay, I’m used to it.”

“You shouldn’t be,” he said. “Is tomorrow okay?”

“Same time, same place.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow. Bye, Elise.”

“Bye.”

He got up and walked away.

Maybe it was a small thing, but the fact that in spite of his busy schedule Nicholas had come down to meet me meant even more than the flowers and chocolates.

Back when I was still married, my husband, Dan, invited me to lunch, then forgot about it. I waited alone for almost an hour before calling him.

“Sorry, I forgot,” he said. “I got distracted.”

“Am I that forgettable?” I asked.

“Don’t talk to me about
forgetting
,” he said.

That shut me up. I hung up the phone, then broke down crying.

I finished my lunch and went back to work.

CHAPTER

Six

The lawyer and I made our plans for the next seven weeks. It looks like fun. Which is probably what the last Hindenburg passenger thought as he boarded the blimp.

Elise Dutton’s Diary

The next morning I was booking rooms at a New York hotel when Zoey walked in carrying a silver box from Nordstrom and set it on my desk.

“It’s from the lawyer,” she whispered. Then she just stood there, waiting for me to finish the call. As soon as I hung up she said, “Open it.” She looked even more eager to see what was inside the box than I was. I opened the card first.

Day 3. It’s been a cold winter, Elise. I thought this might help.

—Nick

“So what did Lover Boy send today?” Zoey asked, sounding incredibly jealous. I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t enjoy it.

“Let’s find out,” I said. I untied the ribbon, then lifted the lid. Inside was a piece of light tan cloth. I lifted it out.

“It’s a scarf,” I said. “It’s soft.”

Zoey touched it. “It’s cashmere.” She instinctively went for the label. “Pashmina from Bottega Veneta.” She looked up at me. “You realize that’s like six hundred dollars.”

I tried not to look impressed. “Really?”

“This guy’s made of money. What does he drive?”

“I don’t know.”

“How do you not know?”

“I haven’t been out with him yet.”

“Amazing,” she said, shaking her head as she walked out of my office.

I wore the scarf to lunch. Nicholas was waiting for me near Cafe Rio. He stood, smiling, as I approached. “I see you got it,” he said, looking at the scarf.

“What did I say about spending so much?”

“You told me I didn’t have to, which I already knew.”

“I feel uncomfortable.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then don’t worry about it. I don’t expect reciprocity, so you don’t need to worry about anything. Just enjoy it.” He looked into my eyes. “Or at least let me enjoy it, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you. It’s beautiful.”

“It’s cashmere,” he said.

“I know. Zoey told me. She’s insanely jealous.”

“Is a jealous Zoey a good or bad thing?”

“That depends on who you ask.”

“I’m asking you.”

“Definitely a good thing.”

He smiled. “What are we eating today? Cafe Rio again?”

“Of course.”

“I should have just ordered for you. Before this is over I’m going to expand your culinary horizons. Save our place
and I’ll be right back. Sweet pork salad, pinto beans, house dressing.”

“And a diet lemonade.”

“Of course.”

Not wanting to get food on my scarf, I folded it up and stowed it in my purse. Nicholas returned a few minutes later carrying a tray. “One salad with lots of sugar, and a lemonade sans sugar.”

“Thank you.”

He sat down.

“What did you get?” I asked, examining his meal.

“I thought I’d try the chiles rellenos with some of this rice.” He took a bite, then asked, “Who is this Zoey person?”

“She’s just someone I work with.” A peculiar feeling swept through me. I didn’t want him to know who Zoey was. I didn’t want him to meet her. I didn’t want her to take him. “She’s, like, beautiful.”

“Like you,” he said.

“No, she’s
really
beautiful.”

His expression immediately changed. He almost looked angry. “As opposed to what?”

“As opposed to me.”

He leaned back for a moment, then said, “How long have you been this way?”

“What way?”

“Self-deprecating.”

Suddenly, to my surprise, tears began to well up in my eyes. I didn’t answer. I was too embarrassed.

He didn’t back off. “What makes you think you’re not beautiful?”

“I’m not blind,” I said. “I can look in a mirror.”

“You have a flawed mirror,” he replied. His voice softened. “Elise, anyone can open a book. Not everyone can appreciate the beauty of the writing. I want you to stop berating yourself.”

“It’s just . . .” I wiped my eyes with a napkin. “Around my office I’m not the one who gets the flowers.”

“Funny,” he said. “I could have sworn you told me that you just got some.”

What was this man doing to me?
“Can we just eat?”

“I want to add something to our contract. For the length of our agreement you will believe that you are beautiful.”

“You can’t just change a belief.”

“People do it all the time,” he said. “Besides, it’s contractual. You don’t have a choice. You’d be amazed at what people accomplish under contract.”

“I don’t know if I can do that.”

“Then at least believe that I believe you’re beautiful.”

I sat there fighting back tears. “Can we please change the subject?”

“Will you agree to do this one thing for me?”

Finally I nodded.

“All right. Now we can eat.”

We ate for a few minutes until he said, “I’m going to run out of time, so we’d better start planning our season.” He reached into his briefcase and brought out some papers.
“I had my secretary print out copies of my calendar for the next two months. We can use it to plan.”

He handed me two pages, and I quickly looked through the calendar. Not surprisingly, he had a lot more going on than I did. I didn’t need a secretary to schedule my life. I didn’t even need a notebook.

“You have two work parties,” I noted.

“Yes, I’m sorry if that’s excessive. There’s an office party for the entire firm, then there’s the partners’ party.”

“Gee, I wonder which one is nicer,” I said.

“Actually, they’re both nice,” he said. “The company party is at La Caille.”

“Really?” La Caille was an expensive French restaurant in the foothills of the Wasatch Mountains. “That’s nice.”

“You’ve been there?”

“It’s been a few years. Actually, I was there for a wedding. It’s a bit above my pay grade. Where’s the partners’ party, the Grand America?”

“The partners’ party is at one of our founders’ homes.”

I went back to the beginning of the calendar. The first event Nicholas had marked was the evening of November ninth. Tomorrow night.

“What’s this Hale Centre event?” I asked.

“That’s the Hale Centre Theatre’s production of
A Christmas Carol
. I’ve heard it’s great, I’ve just never wanted to go alone.” He looked at me. “I know it’s sudden. If you have other plans . . .”

“No, it’s okay,” I said. “I’m not busy.”

He looked pleased.

I moved down the calendar. “What about the following weekend? You marked an event on the sixteenth.”

“There’s nothing scheduled, but is there something you would like to do? We could go to the symphony, ballet, Walmart . . .”

“Let me think about it,” I said. I moved my finger to the next week on the calendar. “The next week is Thanksgiving.”

“Thanksgiving is early this year. Do you have plans?”

“I usually spend it with Dan’s family.”

“Who’s Dan?”

“My ex.”

He looked at me quizzically. “Really?”

“I know, it’s weird. But I’m still close to his parents. The way they see it, their son divorced me but they didn’t. I think they like me more than they like him.”

“How does your ex feel about it?”

“He’s strangely good with it. In a twisted way I think it makes him feel like he has a harem.”

“That’s creepy.”

“That would describe him.”

“You don’t have a better alternative? Family?”

“There’s no one close. My parents have both passed away. I have a sister in Minneapolis. She invites me to her house every year, but it’s too expensive to fly there for a day.”

“You don’t get frequent-flier miles with the travel agency?” he asked. Then he answered his own question. “I guess you couldn’t use them on Thanksgiving anyway. It’s a blackout period.”

“I don’t get them. I don’t travel with the groups. We have
people who do that. I just do the logistics, like booking hotels and admissions at some of the venues.”

He nodded as he took this all in. “So, back to Thanksgiving at your ex’s family. I assume Dan and company wouldn’t like me joining them. Disrupt the harem and all that.”

“No, that might be awkward.”

“Then would you be willing to join me?”

“With your family?”

“No, in that department we’re in the same boat. I celebrate Thanksgiving with the family of one of the attorneys I work with.”

“What’s their name?”

“The Hitesmans,” he said. “Scott Hitesman. Real nice family.”

I wrote the name down on the calendar.

“Scott joined the firm about the same time I did. We were working over a Thanksgiving weekend on a big case, and he invited me to join them. I’ve been with them ever since.”

“Will they be okay if I come?”

Nicholas laughed. “No, they’ll be
ecstatic
. Sharon is always trying to get me to invite someone.”

“Then it’s a date. Will I need to bring anything?”

“I usually just pick up some pies from Marie Callender’s.”

“I can make pie,” I said. “I like baking. I make a pumpkin pie that’s to die for. And a pecan pie that’s a least worth getting sick for.”

He grimaced.

“That didn’t come out right,” I said.

“I love pecan pie. You’ve got a deal.”

“How many people will there be?”

“About seven, including us.”

“How many pies?”

“I usually bring four. An apple, cherry, pumpkin, and mincemeat.”

“Does anyone still eat mincemeat?”

“Grandma Hitesman does. She’s ninety-six. When she dies, the industry will crumble.”

I laughed. “Maybe you could pick that one up.”

“I could do that.”

We both looked back down at the calendar.

“The next week is our firm’s Christmas party,” Nicholas said. “Saturday, December first.”

“The one at La Caille?” I asked.

He nodded.

“That’s the week of my work party too,” I said. “It’s that Wednesday.”

“Can you do both?”

“Absolutely. But I should warn you, it’s not going to be La Caille. It’s not even going to be Burger King, for that matter.”

“I don’t care,” he said.

“You have no idea how nice it will be to go with someone this year. Ever since I divorced, I’ve been the odd one out.”

“I think I have an idea,” he said. “That’s why we’re doing this.”

The next week there were two days marked on the calendar. December sixth and seventh. “What are these?”

His expression fell. “It’s nothing,” he said in a way that made me sure that it was. “It’s just . . . something I do.” He
quickly moved on. “The next week, on the fourteenth, is the partners’ party. Then the week after that I have to fly to New York City to meet with one of our clients, so we won’t get together that week.” He looked up at me. “Unless you come to New York with me.”

I couldn’t tell if he was serious. “I’m afraid that would be out of my budget.”

“Travel expenses are in the contract.”

I looked at him. “You’re serious.” To tell the truth, the idea of going to New York at Christmas thrilled me. “Let’s see how things go.”

“That’s wise,” he replied.

“Then there’s nothing until Christmas Eve?”

“What are your plans for Christmas Eve?” he asked.

I was embarrassed to tell him that I hadn’t anything planned. “Nothing. Yet.”

“How about we have dinner?”

“That would be nice. Where?”

“I don’t know, we can decide that later. We have seven weeks.”

“And then we’re done,” I said.

He slowly nodded. “Exactly. The agreement is fulfilled, the contract is terminated.” He slid his calendar into his briefcase, then stood. “I better get back. I’ll see you tomorrow at lunch, then tomorrow evening for the play.”

“Thank you for lunch,” I said. I held up the calendar. “And for all this.”

“It’s my pleasure. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me too.”

He looked into my eyes and said, “Elise.”

“Yes?”

“No more complaints about gifts. It’s been a long time since I’ve had anyone to give to, and I’m having a lot of fun. Don’t ruin it for me. Okay?”

I nodded and smiled. “If you insist.”

His serious expression gave way to a smile. “I insist. Have a good day.”

As he started to go I said, “Nicholas.”

He turned back. “Yes?”

“What kind of car do you drive?”

He looked puzzled. “Why?”

“Zoey wanted to know.”

He grinned mischievously. “Tell her it’s a very expensive one.” He blew me a kiss and walked off. As he disappeared from sight, I took out my scarf and put it around my neck. It had been a long time since I had felt that warm.

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