The Christmas Party Read online

  EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ®

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2016 Amabel Daniels

  ISBN: 978-1-77339-105-2

  Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

  Editor: JS Cook

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  To Peanut and Boo Boo. Our tree is still standing…

  THE CHRISTMAS PARTY

  Amabel Daniels

  Copyright © 2016

  Chapter One

  Mother Nature seemed to shake a finger and cackle with contempt as rain pummeled the backyard past the icy windowpanes of the cinnamon-scented home. Upbeat notes of Brenda Lee’s Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree filled the cramped kitchen where spiral rolls baked. Giggles and shrieks of laughter chased each other in the cozy yet cluttered living room.

  “No harassing the cat!” Madison Harper yelled over her shoulder. She flashed a goofy smile at the chubby-cheeked, grinning baby at the table.

  I want another chunky monkey of my own.

  The pangs were easier to swallow. No longer did she mope in the sadness of not having her own infant to snuggle, kiss, and raise. Technically, she did. Although Nessa was her friend Aisha’s darling baby, Maddie saw her every day as her babysitter. And if Maddie really wanted another sibling for her own two kids, she had to find a man to help make that happen.

  Ha.

  Nessa, eight months old, was the youngest of Maddie’s wards. And at the moment, by far the easiest. With Nessa strapped into the highchair, Maddie could attest to the baby’s happiness and safety. By the vibrations on the floor, Maddie’s twins, Emma and Darcy, were running around in front of the Christmas tree in the living room. Rania and Jax, Aisha’s two other children, were racing behind them.

  No, a Northern Illinois forecast of cold, stinging rain was most unappreciated ten days before Christmas.

  “How ’bout some stinkin’ snow, huh baby girl?” Maddie asked Nessa.

  She replied with a smack to her oatmeal bowl, splashing the slimy breakfast on her cocoa skin.

  Quiet mornings were rare in her house, and Maddie would not have it any other way. Except this time, beeping alerts competed with one another. With a snowman oven mitt on one hand, she pulled a cookie sheet out of the oven and silenced the timer with her other hand.

  Darcy darted toward her.

  “Ut, ut, ut. Oven. Stay back.”

  “But mama, we playing tag.”

  She nodded and shooed him away. “We are playing tag. Tag belongs in the other room. Oven’s hot, buddy.”

  Not like there’s much room for tag in the living room either.

  One child redirected, and one more sheet to remove, she focused on the countertop clutter for her phone, the other summoning device. She shoved Rania’s baby doll blankets out of the wire fruit bowl—oh sorry, impromptu baby bed—and unlocked her phone. The screen showed Aisha’s smiling face under her signature hippy ’fro.

  “Yes, ma’am?” Maddie tucked the phone between her ear and shoulder while she shut off the oven and ensured the racks cooled far from little hands potentially reaching for treats.

  “I got you a date.”

  Maddie rolled her eyes. “Didn’t know I needed one. Hmm. I wasn’t even looking for one. In fact, no, I’m not seeking one.”

  “Come on, girl. Get in the holiday spirit.”

  Maddie raised an eyebrow and took in the red-and-green construction paper streamers draped from every doorframe, the bowl of homemade cut-out cookies of Santas, stars, and snowmen—all frosted and excessively coated with sprinkles—the nativity scene on the table that, oh damn it, is Handy Manny in the frickin’ manger again? And Goofy and Alvin the Chipmunk as wise men? She snorted a laugh. In a house with children, decorations weren’t for aesthetics. They were commandeered as playthings.

  “I’m drowning in the holiday spirit here. Any adult surrounded by children under ten years of age is reinforced of the spirit in bountiful doses.”

  “But ’tis the season to be joyous and happy. Embrace thy neighbors, share a drink, give a hug. Bless each other with gifts and good will—”

  “Don’t get all choir-lady on me. It’s only nine thirty, and I’m stuck inside with over-energized toddlers on a rainy day.” Other than the music playing and Nessa babbling in the highchair, the house had gone quiet. Silence was never golden with toddlers in the mix. “Come on, spill it. What are you selling?”

  Aisha chuckled. “Just a date, Mad. Please?”

  “Matchmaking? You dare to invoke that trouble again?” Maddie could count on two hands how many failed—and slightly humorous, if they hadn’t been at her expense—dates her best friend had arranged for her.

  “Maybe the holiday spirit and all that crap can balance out my bad luck of setting you up again.”

  “See! Even you know it won’t amount to anything. Blind dates always suck.”

  “Mad, it doesn’t have to build up to anything. Just trying to get you out of the house. Have a little living and loving for the night. Where’s the optimist I know? Something don’t suck unless you let it suck.”

  Maddie rolled her eyes and leaned toward the door to see the kids. Darcy and Rania ran with pillows from the twins’ bedroom.

  At least if they crash, they’re buffered.

  “I’ve got enough living and loving to last me. I appreciate the thought, but I’m fine.”

  If fine meant having everything she could wish for and still be a little lonely for companionship, then she was just dandy.

  “You’re never gonna find someone if you stay to yourself at home, all alone.”

  “Thought I was doing quite well on my own. And I’m not without company. I hardly have two seconds to myself to sit and pee in peace and quiet.”

  Aisha groaned. “A man, Mad, a man. A woman needs a man in her life.” She paused. “I just set us woman back a hundred years there. You don’t need a man, but I know you want one. You want a daddy for Emma and Darcy. I know you can’t wait to have another baby. You miss non-PG kisses.”

  Rubbing the back of her neck, Maddie bristled at the truth. “I’m only twenty-four, Aisha. I’ve got time.”

  “Time don’t matter if you never take the first step to get out of your house and meet people. I ain’t asking you to marry the man. Just go to the party with him.”

  She made it sound like it was nothing. Oh, simply get all gussied up, meet a complete stranger, and pretend to have a good time while skirting the fact they’ll never bother to see each other again. Such fuss for false fun.

  Emma and Darcy’s father had been Maddie’s first everything. As he was the boy next door, Maddie had grown up next to him, went to school—Pre-K to high school graduation— with him, accepted his proposal, enrolled at the same college with him, and moved in with him. He was her first in many things, and also the last. The last and final man she would ever believe or trust with her heart. Once he’d realized that they were expecting, he’d bolted, ran right into the arms of another woman.

  Maddie wasn’t scared to admit her jaded and cynical approach to love might need a second look someday. She realized she’d need to analyze her distrust in men and, well, get over it. Maybe on New Year’s Eve when she toasted the big ball on the TV by herself with a glass of cheap wine when the kids were in bed. But not before. This was Chri
stmas time. Fun time. Lighthearted, happy, make the kids smile time. Much as she wanted to defend her policy of no men, no dates, she saw little harm in appeasing Aisha and going along with it. God knew her friend wouldn’t take no for an answer. And after all, she had a point. It would only be one night. It would be kind of nice to get out for once.

  “What’s wrong with him that he has to have a blind date?”

  Aisha laughed. The full belly laugh that reminded Maddie of why they were such great friends. Her lips couldn’t help but tip into a smile.

  “Nothing is wrong with him. Mad, he’s…” Aisha sighed. “I never thought to ask you to be his date because you’re so similar. Both a you, so damn stubborn. But he’s a fine man. Like a big hunk of chocolate you want to sink your teeth in.”

  “He’s big?”

  “No. Tall. Muscular. Big like he can pick you up and whisk you away.”

  “He’s black?”

  “No. He’s as white as you. Dammit, girl, you take everything so literally.”

  Maddie took Nessa’s upturned bowl away. “Gee, Aisha, given I’m an editor, it shouldn’t be shocking.”

  “He’s big, like strong and tall, and chocolatey, like you want to take a bite out of him. He’s a tall, strong hunk of white chocolate? I’m trying to tell you he’s gorgeous, all right?”

  Maddie returned to Nessa to wipe her face. Her chubby fists flailed in protest.

  Tall, short, black, white. Those things were arbitrary. Other than the fact that Aisha probably missed breakfast and was hungry enough to make food analogies, Maddie didn’t have enough info to go on. It didn’t matter what ethnicity he was or what height he measured to. Did he smile easily? Was he a jerk? Did he recycle? Did he want to cry every time Mufasa dies in the Lion King? Did he know how to correctly use apostrophes? “Okay, I can assume he’s hot then.”

  “Ha. Ha. Ha.” Aisha’s laughs were singular, low, and knowing. “Girl, he ain’t hot. This is a spectacular specimen of mankind. Puts shame to half the men you read in those naughty books you edit at night.”

  They weren’t naughty books. Some might have been erotica, but it wasn’t porn for God’s sake. “Does he have a sense of humor?”

  “Kinda.”

  “Kind of?”

  “He’s witty. Like you.”

  Maddie craned her neck to check the activity in the living room again. Jax and Emma carried Maddie’s comforter. Another fort-making day? “Is he full of himself?” she asked Aisha.

  “No. He’s…”

  Nessa fussed to get up. “Come on, Aisha, you know the kids are going to plot against me if I stay on the phone any longer. He’s what?”

  “Aloof? He likes to keep to himself. You know how hard you are to crack? You don’t let anyone get close and keep a privacy fence around your heart? Well, he’s got the Wall of China around his.”

  Great. A gorgeous, witty introvert. Maddie could only wonder what Aisha was actually trying to say without revealing the truth. But her friend’s assessment wouldn’t matter. Maddie was one to form her own opinions. No two people read a book the same way, or appreciated art in the same vein. If Maddie wanted to know about Aisha’s mystery man, she’d have to meet him herself. And if she found him to be lacking, what did it matter? It was just one night, simply one more blind date to humor herself though.

  “You know, I saw a documentary on the Discovery Channel.” Maddie hoisted Nessa from the highchair. “The Wall of China is actually coming down. They think people are—”

  “Mad! It’s a saying.”

  Rania and Emma ran and skidded to a stop in front of her. “Mama, mama, I want my orange ’ippy cup,” Emma said.

  “Hang on, Aisha.” Maddie turned to her daughter. “What do you say when you want something?”

  “Pretty please?”

  “You had the yellow one earlier. Orange is in the dishwasher.”

  “I want orange.” Her lower lip jutted out.

  “Well, good luck with that. It’s in the dishwasher right now. Yellow will have to be okay ’til the cycle is done.” Maddie bounced Nessa on her hip and returned to her phone call. “What’s his name?” She made googly eyes until Nessa smiled.

  Another throaty chuckle on the other end of the phone. “Liam. His name is Liam. And oh, Mad? He’s British.”

  British? Oh hell. Aisha knew how to fight dirty. If naming her children after the famous characters didn’t show it, Maddie was a diehard fan of Jane Austen. Of English, rugged men. Wasn’t anything more intriguing than a distinguished British accent to make a man more interesting, exotic, out of reach like daredevil princes, ripped men at sea, forbidden trysts in mansions…

  “Mama, I want orange!”

  Throes of a threeanger would yank any woman from fantasizing about men. “Sorry. You can’t have orange. It’s in the dishwasher. Besides, little princesses can’t have orange cups on Thursdays. It’s an old pirate law.”

  “Pirate law?” Rania asked, ever at Emma’s side.

  “Yes, it’s against pirate law. No little princesses shall have orange sippy cups on Thursdays. Sorry.”

  “What’s a pirate, Maddie?” Rania peered up at her.

  “A man on a ship who says ‘Arrr’.” She chased after the girls with her best one-eyed snarl.

  “You silly,” Rania said.

  “Thought I was Maddie.” And stupid enough to agree to a blind date for your mama.

  “You silly. Silly Maddie,” Rania said with a smile. The girls followed her out the kitchen.

  Jax and Darcy stood from their construction. Every pillow, blanket, sheet, cushion, and throw was piled into a heap. In the empty fireplace. It had never worked since Maddie began renting the house, and it was normally a barren, if dusty, stone niche in the wall.

  “What’s this?” Besides an additional load of laundry to squeeze in. And remaking all the beds. And… She bit back a groan.

  “Santa’s gonna come down there.” Darcy pointed to the fireplace. “We don’t want him to hurt his bum bum falling down.”

  A Brit for Christmas? Maddie sighed into the phone. “All right, Aisha. I’ll go. You do know you’ll owe me.”

  “Oh, I will. Have fun protecting Santa’s bum bum. Laters, girl.”

  Chapter Two

  From the twentieth floor of the high-rise that housed the headquarters of his uncle’s business—establishment— Liam Waterston surveyed the hustle and bustle of downtown Chicago traffic. Cherry brake lights flashed in the traffic build up, and tiny, colored hats atop pedestrians’ heads bobbed like teeny push pins, everyone seeming to rush to stores for last-minute Christmas gifts.

  Leaning his forehead to the expansive glass window that stretched from floor to ceiling, he let himself get lost in his absentminded observation of holiday preparers. His own gifts to give were not presents, only items, meaningless materialistic assets. Specially purchased and packaged desires his secretary, Pamela, decided his few family members wanted—or the things she deemed would be coveted by wealthy people who already had everything money could buy. His younger brother Nick was the only individual he endeavored to buy a gift for personally. He added the task to his mental to-do list.

  For the peaceful moment of quiet after lunch, he let the cold contact of the window chill his skin. Rain pattered on the outside and he couldn’t help but compare his mood to the weather. Miserable.

  “There you are.” Nick’s cheerful voice broke his reverie.

  In the reflection, Liam watched his younger brother, the CFO of Waterson Inc. enter his private office. Without turning his face from the window, Liam sighed. His ivy-green eyes stared back at him, the loneliness drowning him in the depth of his pupils. In a tower of hundreds of offices, in a city of many, as the CEO of a multi-million dollar financial consulting firm, as a son, cousin, nephew, brother, and uncle of a large family, he was alone. And it appeared fate wasn’t going to deal him any other cards. Instead of analyzing his ever-constant melancholy, he inhaled deeply, and spun to face Nick, preferring to
focus on work instead of his pathetic life or the fact the happiness of the holiday season served only to remind him of how much he yearned to belong to another.

  “Got the Rendell file?”

  Nick was holding a file in his hand, but he didn’t offer it over, crossing his arms with a curious stance. “You okay?” He pointed a finger at Liam’s forehead.

  Numb and probably red from leaning on the window. He rubbed at the spot and gave him a small smile. “Of course.” After he walked over to Nick, he took the requested papers and sat in one of the leather chairs facing his desk. Nick sat in the other.

  “Wouldn’t want you catching anything now. Not with the party tomorrow night.”

  That bloody party. Liam sat up, the papers temporarily forgotten. “Look, Nick. I told you, I’m not in the mood for any sort of—”

  With a hand held in the air, Nick shook his head. “Too late. You’ve got a date. You’ve got to come now.”

  A date?

  His brother and secretary had been tag-teaming with pesky nags to get him to attend the annual holiday party. Since Halloween, they’d been consistently sneaking hints that he’d be expected. He hadn’t needed their continuous reminders. The owner and president of the company, Oscar, his uncle, made it clear his nephew’s presence would be required. Whatever Oscar wanted, Oscar received.

  Heaven forbid a Waterson disobey. Liam had begrudgingly surrendered to planning to make an appearance. Show up after the appropriate mingling session was already over, take a few bites of food, shake a few of the managers’ hands, nod Merry Christmas to employees he actually recognized, and leave early.

  But a date?

  “Pardon?”

  Nick grinned. “Yes. A date. For you.”

  “A woman?”

  “I hadn’t known you switched teams.”

  Liam scowled at him. Popping in for a quick moment was his goal for the company’s holiday festivity. Meeting and showing up with a date, for the entire evening? Hell no.