Twelve Days of Christmas (4 page)

“Why do you want to know?” he asked, as if she'd overstepped her bounds as a salesperson.

It would be easy to take offense, but she didn't. “Because,” she returned calmly, “if you were purchasing the sweater for yourself I'd suggest going up a size. You have broad shoulders. I noticed you work out. It shows.”

He didn't let on if he appreciated the compliment, not that she suspected he would.

“Flattery, Julia?”

She hadn't been sure he even knew her name. That he would say it was a nice surprise. “It's a compliment.”

He didn't let his feelings be known one way or the other. Instead, he answered her question. “The sweater isn't for me.”

She motioned toward the table where she'd been straightening out the inventory. “These are good-quality sweaters and they're on sale. We have higher-end choices as well, if you're looking for something in cashmere.”

“These will do,” he said, and then added, as if it pained him, “I appreciate your help.”

Dismissing her, Cain sorted through the sweaters, which left Julia to wait on another customer. She kept half an eye on him as he searched the pile until he found what he wanted. It wasn't until she'd finished with the other customer that she remembered that Cain had thanked her. It was almost as if the words pained him to get out. Any sort of appreciation from him was an improvement. He'd never thanked her before. In fact, when she'd delivered his newspaper the day before, she'd been obliged to prompt him.

This was a small victory, and one she savored.

It just so happened that she was at the register when Cain approached a few minutes later. Julia had trouble holding back a smile at the look that came over him when he realized it was her.

“I see you found what you wanted,” she said. “This is a good choice.”

“Thanks.” He reached into his back pocket for his wallet and paid with cash.

“Would you like a gift receipt?” she asked, as a matter of course.

“No.”

“A gift box?”

“No.” He glanced at his wrist as if to suggest he had limited time.

She handed him his purchase. “Merry Christmas, Cain.”

He held her gaze and then muttered, “Bah humbug.”

Julia couldn't help it; she laughed. “You don't like Christmas?”

“Truth is, I don't have any feelings good or bad over Christmas. It's something to be endured.”

Endured? Christmas? She held his look for an uncomfortably long moment. “I think that's one of the saddest things anyone has ever said to me.”

He shrugged, as though it was of little consequence.

“Can I do anything to make Christmas better for you?” she offered.

He shook his head. “No thanks.”

“That's twice now that you've thanked me.”

“You're keeping tabs?”

She returned with the same gesture he'd given her: a shrug. “You aren't free and easy with your appreciation.”

“I'll get right on that.”

His voice was emotionless, but Julia saw the teasing light in his eyes. She planted her hand over her heart. “Cain Maddox, you have a sense of humor. Who would've guessed?”

He did smile then. This was progress, real progress, whether Cain was willing to admit it or not.

Cain returned from visiting Bernie and was happy his grandfather liked his birthday gift. The minute he stepped off the elevator he smelled something baking. One of the last memories he had of his grandmother was of her baking him chocolate-chip cookies. Every time he smelled that aroma he felt a sense of loss. Even now, as an adult, he experienced a pang at the memory.

His life had fallen apart after the death of his grandmother. His mother had abandoned the family when he was little more than a toddler. His father hadn't been able to cope with him, and within a few short weeks he sent Cain to live with his grandparents. He remembered crying for his mother and his grandmother holding and rocking him. Whenever he was sad or had experienced a bad day, she baked him chocolate-chip cookies.

The first day of junior high he'd gotten into a fight and was sent to the principal's office. His grandfather had been disappointed and lectured him. In an effort to smooth over matters, his grandmother had baked him his favorite cookies, and since her death he'd never touched them again. It was a tribute to the only woman who'd ever loved him.

Sure enough, Cain wasn't home more than thirty minutes when Julia showed up at his door.

Schroeder barked, just in case Cain hadn't heard her distinctive knock. He'd heard it, all right, and would like nothing better than to ignore it.

“Cain,” she called out. “I know you're home.”

One would think she'd get the message, but apparently that was too much to hope.

“What is it now?” he asked, doing his best to hide his irritation as he flung open the door.

Julia blinked at his lack of manners. What did she expect? By now she should know he didn't welcome company. Instantly, he regretted his childish behavior and relaxed his shoulders. She looked adorable in a Santa hat and a cute Christmassy apron.

His appreciative glance was all she needed to proudly hold out a plate of chocolate-chip cookies. They were wrapped in green cellophane and tied up in a pretty white bow. When he didn't immediately accept her offering, she said, “I baked these for you.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.”

Immediately, the smile drained out of her eyes. “You don't like cookies?”

“No.”

“Oh.” She didn't back down. “In that case, maybe you'd like to take them into the office with you,” she suggested.

Her big blue eyes pleaded with him, only this time he wasn't giving in. “Why don't you take them in to work yourself?” he countered.

For a long moment she remained standing just on the other side of his doorway, as if she had trouble believing he would turn down her cookies. “I suppose I could do that,” she admitted reluctantly.

“Good.” Now that it was settled, he started to close the door.

“These are some of my best cookies,” she tossed out, cocking her head to one side in order to see him as he closed the door.

He ignored her. He'd say one thing about Julia, she was persistent. In all the years he'd avoided chocolate-chip cookies, this was the first time he'd ever been tempted. And that didn't settle well with him. In fact, it completely unnerved him.

Julia posted her blog and within five minutes she had dozens of hits and twenty comments. It seemed everyone had something to say. Several were helpful and some were downright funny.

BelieverinLove: Don't be discouraged. The fact that he's fighting so hard shows you're having an effect on him.

Ain'tGonnaTakeIt: Sneak rat poison into his coffee. Oh wait, he doesn't want that, either. Find a way.

SingleMom: I met someone like him. In fact, I married him. Run, sister, run, and don't look back.

Several comments boiled down to the simple message of:
Don't give up now.

Reading the comments helped, so by the time Julia left to join the choir members Saturday morning, her annoyance with Cain had more or less dissipated. To her surprise, he was leaving his apartment at the same time she was.

He seemed equally taken aback to see her.

“You work on Saturdays?” she asked as they walked toward the elevator.

“No. You?”

“Not today.” It seemed to take the elevator an extra-long time to reach the third floor. When it did arrive, he held open the door for her to precede him. So he could be a gentleman when so inclined!

“It's going to be a great day.”

He arched his brows as if to question her. “I doubt that. Rain is forecast, the streets are clogged with traffic, people are pushing and shoving on the sidewalks, crazed with Christmas madness. If that's a good day for you, then you're a better person than I am.”

“Thank you, Mr. Glad Tidings,” she teased. “As you might have guessed, I love the holiday season.” She waited, and when he didn't comment she added, “You forgot your line.”

“My line?” He arched his brows in question as they reached the lobby and entered the foyer.

“Aren't you supposed to say ‘Bah humbug'?”

For just a moment, fleeting as it was, she thought she saw him smile. If so, he quickly disguised it behind his usual emotionless expression. He shook his head as they left the lobby, but then he waited and held the glass door open for her.

“Thank you.” That was twice now that he'd held a door for her, something he'd never done to this point. She supposed that was progress. Her readers would say these little signs should encourage her. And they did.

“You're welcome,” Cain said.

They parted ways on the sidewalk. Cain went in one direction and she in the other. She made a brief stop in Starbucks, and to her disappointment discovered Phil wasn't working. She'd catch him later and hope he'd be able to remember his conversation with Cain. She needed to know what Cain was curious to find out about her.

Julia was one of the first to arrive at Manor House, the assisted-living complex on Beacon Hill. She wanted to be sure everything was set up and ready for the choral group and that the piano was in place. She'd visited earlier with the choral director and told the staff what they would need.

Sure enough, several rows of chairs were already arranged in a large area off the dining room. Many of the elderly patrons had to be escorted from their rooms. A number of them used walkers. Julia stood in the entry and greeted each resident as he or she progressed into the room, wishing them a merry Christmas.

Nothing could have shocked her more when she saw Cain accompanying an elderly man. When he caught sight of her, his eyes narrowed with what looked like suspicion and doubt. After he got the older man settled into a chair in the second row, he walked over to where she stood.

“Could I talk to you a minute?”

“Sure.”

“Not here,” he said gruffly.

“Then where?”

He led the way down the hall and around the corner, out of sight of the residents and staff. “Did you follow me?”

Her eyes felt like they were about to bug out of her head. “Follow you? You mean here? Of course not. Why in the name of heaven would I do anything like that?”

“Then what are you doing here?”

Julia stiffened and did her utmost to remain calm and serene. “I have my reasons,” she assured him. His arrogance was beyond measure.

“Are you stalking me?”

“You think I'm stalking you?” The idea was so ludicrous she burst out laughing. If the twitch in his jaw was anything to go by, Cain wasn't amused. “I find it all too convenient that you seem to turn up everywhere I do. First it's at Starbucks, then the lobby when I'm collecting my mail. And what's the deal with you just happening to be at the elevator every morning?

“I can't even shop without running into you. I don't know how you planned all this, but I want it to stop and I want it to stop now.”

Julia closed her eyes before her temper blew, because if it did, he'd regret his accusations. When she'd composed herself enough to respond, she held up her index finger. “One, I was collecting my mail first. You intruded on me. Two.” She held up a second finger. “You can rest assured I will take pains to avoid catching the elevator the same time as you from this point forward. I would rather miss my bus than ride with you ever again. And three.” A third finger snapped up. “I'm clever, but not clever enough to arrange to be working at the exact place and time you decide to shop. And four.” She breathlessly had four fingers up now. “I have every right to be in Starbucks. If you don't like it, then I suggest you get your coffee elsewhere.”

Dragging in a calming breath, she added, “Now, if you'll excuse me, there's a reason I'm here and it has nothing to do with you.” She started to walk away and then whirled back around to confront him nose to nose. “For the record, you're the most arrogant, unpleasant man I've ever known.”

The experiment was over. She couldn't do it any longer. Stepping into the restroom, Julia locked the door and leaned against it. She took a few minutes to compose herself, holding her hands up to her face. Her cheeks were hot with barely restrained anger. It took several moments for her breathing to return to normal.

Knowing she'd be required to play for the singing group, Julia wetted a paper towel and pressed it to her face. When she felt like she could smile again, she came out of the restroom. The choral group had arrived and Julia slid onto the piano bench.

Mrs. Bounds, the choir director, stood before the audience and introduced herself.

“We are pleased to be here this morning to share a few of our choir's Christmas selections for your enjoyment. Julia Padden will accompany us on the piano.”

Julia didn't dare look into the audience. For all she knew Cain had left, which was what she hoped he'd done. The man was insufferable. Until fifteen minutes ago, she'd thought she'd made progress. It really was one step forward and ten steps back when it came to this jerk.

Mrs. Bounds faced the choral group, raised her arms, and then looked to Julia, whose fingers were poised over the piano keys. At Mrs. Bounds's signal, she started playing.

As always seemed to happen, she soon got immersed in the music and the tension evaporated from between her shoulder blades. Unable to resist, she looked to where she'd first seen Cain. He sat next to the same man she'd seen him with earlier. Their eyes locked, and for one intense moment the room faded away and it was just the two of them. The blank, emotionless expression that was his trademark had been replaced with a look of regret. Before she could read anything more, her attention was drawn back to the choir and Mrs. Bounds. Regretful or not, Julia was finished with him, with the experiment, with everything—even if it meant she would lose the chance at this job. Her stomach was in knots. She desperately wanted this job, but not at the expense of her sanity.

When the performance was over, Julia stepped outside and called Cammie, who happened to be grocery shopping. It took her best friend all of two seconds to figure out she was upset.

“Julia, what's wrong?”

She blurted out the entire story and finished with “I'm giving up the blog.”

“You can't,” Cammie cried. “Have you looked at the numbers on the post you put up yesterday? You've got over a thousand hits, with two hundred shares. Do you have any idea how big that is?”

“I just can't do it any longer,” Julia insisted.

“You can,” Cammie encouraged. “Think about it. Don't overreact. Yes, Cain is difficult and you have every right to be upset, but there's a reason he's the way he is. It's your job to find out what makes him tick.”

“He's arrogant and—”

“Wasn't he all that before you started the blog?”

Her friend had a point, and as much as Julia wanted to argue with her, she couldn't. “Yes, I guess…”

“Then nothing has really changed, has it?”

Julia straightened. As much as she hated to admit it, Cammie was right.

“A thousand hits,” her bestie repeated. That was way beyond the interest Julia had been able to generate before.

“People are loving your blog and this project. When you get a chance, read the comments posted in the last couple hours.”

“I will, for sure.” Julia tapped her foot while she considered this news.

“You say Cain accused you of following him?”

“Yes, the man is delusional.” His accusation continued to enflame her.

“You could have claimed that he followed you, you know? Cain was there for a reason.”

As always, Cammie had said exactly what Julia needed to hear. Cain hadn't shown up at the Manor House out of the blue because he was in the mood for a bit of Christmas cheer. She suspected he had a friend or a relative at the complex or was there out of some obligation.

“Thanks, Cammie. I'll check in with you later.”

“Do that, and keep your cool.”

“I will.”

With a plan in place, she returned to the building and stepped up to the receptionist's desk.

“Do you have a resident here with the surname of Maddox?” she asked, doing her best to give the impression of goodwill toward all men.

The woman behind the counter smiled. “Yes, that would be Bernie. Nicest man you'd ever want to meet—charming and sweet.”

Charming and sweet?
Clearly he was no relation to Cain. She would have liked to seek out Bernie right then, but she feared Cain might still be in the building. She'd return at a later date and introduce herself and find out what she could about Cain, if indeed they were related. The more she knew about him, the better prepared she'd be to show him kindness, even if she had to do it with gritted teeth.

Before she was finished, Cain Maddox would rue the day he'd met her.