Chapter One
Silver Bells…Silver Bells…
“Why do people insist on playing Christmas music so early?” Alice Carlson leaned back in the chair at her office in sunny Burbank, California, and tried to ignore the song that drifted from the speakers at the Epicurean Network.
“Commercialism. Have you made your plane reservations? If not, I can have my assistant book them for you,” her fiancé Richard said over the speakerphone.
How to answer without triggering the inevitable argument? Alice dared not share her aversion to the holiday season with Richard nor offer him a reason why. Not yet. Perhaps not ever. “That’s very sweet of you but I don’t have a finalized schedule yet.”
“I don’t want to pressure you but the time is ticking and my parents would like you to come out a few days early to catch a show in town…” his voice trailed off, and he cleared his throat. “I mean, it’s our first Christmas together and I want to make it special. For you. For us.”
She winced at the hopeful tone in his voice and the tenseness in her neck increased. Her office door opened with a soft whoosh and Brooke, her half-sister and one of the network’s associate producer, entered. Her timing couldn’t be more perfect. Alice motioned to the phone and Brooke nodded.
“I promise I’ll let you know as soon as I know, Richard. I have to go. I have a conference call in less than a minute.” Alice hung up before he could comment, the lie sitting heavy on her lips. The air conditioner kicked in and cool air shot across her shoulders. She rubbed at her chilled arms. Geez, she hoped she wasn’t coming down with something more potent than her annual holiday blues.
“I found this in the side pocket. I figured you’d want it back.” Brooke reached into the designer black purse Alice had lent her, and extracted an antique handkerchief embroidered with silver bells, just like the song that continued to haunt her in the background.
Soon it will be Christmas Day.
“Yes, thank you.” Alice accepted the worn fabric, soft with age and use. This square of linen had soaked up many tears, both happy and sad, since her grandmother had bestowed it upon her. Tucking it into her pocket, she palmed the computer’s mouse and clicked on an email app.
“How is boring Richard?” Brooke plopped down into the chair opposite Alice, crossed her legs, and typed something on her ever-present phone.
Alice scanned her new emails and blew out a breath. It was after four p.m. and still nothing from studio executive Mitchell Graham on her project proposal, the most important show she’d ever pitched. “Richard isn’t boring, he’s thoughtful.”
“Then why did you lie to him? You finished the edits yesterday and you don’t have a conference call.”
“I misspoke. I have some post-production left.” Not entirely a lie, she still had to meet with the marketing team about promos for 3Square, the network’s top-rated cooking show that she created, directed, and produced. “What are you still doing here? I thought you had a date tonight.”
Brooke flipped her straight auburn hair over her shoulder. “Mom made me promise to pin you down for Christmas. She says she found a killer salted caramel cookie recipe and has her DVR set to record sappy holiday movies for our Christmas Day movie marathon.”
“I’m not sure I’m up for watching a bunch of movies where impossible dreams come true. I mean, seriously. Couples who live happily ever after despite wanting to kill each other a few scenes before? I don’t think so.” Once upon a time, she’d have loved a day doing just that. She’d always loved everything about the holiday until ten years ago when she’d been forced to make a heart-wrenching decision that changed the course of her life.
“You mean hopeful and uplifting stories intended to remind us of the true significance of Christmas? Oh cynical one, it could happen to you if you’d just believe,” Brooke said with a tongue-in-cheek grin.
“I don’t need a manufactured Hollywood idea of what romance is. In real life, a man like Richard who remembers your birthday and is courteous enough to put the toilet seat down is all the romance you can expect.”
“Boring.” Brooke slumped deeper into the chair. “Come on, admit it. Isn’t it every girl’s dream to have her Prince Charming ride up on his noble steed—or even better, a vintage Harley like your college boyfriend used to ride? Damned if he didn’t look good in those leather chaps over worn jeans. What ever happened to him?”
“I have no idea, nor do I care. As you know, things didn’t end well between us.” Just thinking about Lance made her stomach churn and not in a good way. Falling for him was a colossal mistake on her part, one she’d never make again.
“So, are you coming for Christmas or not? Mom’s blowing up my phone. Damn, why doesn’t she call you?” Brooke tapped her phone against her chin where a ragged pink scar from a car crash marred her freckled skin. She’d almost died from the loss of blood. Lucky for Brooke, Alice was a blood match. But Brooke wasn’t the only person she matched in the donor bank.
Her Instant Messaging showed two new messages. The first one was from her friend, Grace Chen, a Seattle-area talk-show host and fellow foodie, and the other was from Mitchell.
Finally.
Brooke tapped her foot against the desk, shaking the surface. “Hello, earth to Alice. You really need to work on your listening skills. Las Vegas, cookies, romance movies, Mom…yes, or no?”
“Sorry, you’ll have to suffer without me. I have plans with Richard.” Not entirely a lie. She swallowed the stab of guilt. Alice had made plans with him but she wasn’t certain if she could keep them.
“Then invite him over. Christmas is a time for family, and since you’re engaged to the guy, he’s practically my brother. My rich, boring brother.”
“We’re having Christmas with his family, sorry.” Alice’s relationship with her mother was tenuous at best and she didn’t want to spend time pretending things were fine between them. What she truly wanted was to be left alone for the upcoming hiatus from 3Square. Only hiding out in her apartment was no longer an option. She had to act, and she had to act fast: a girl’s life depended on it.
Shutting her laptop, she stood, heart hammering as she strode to the door. “Sorry Sis, Mitchell wants to see me. I have to go.”
“And that’s my cue to leave.” Brooke hopped to her feet and followed her into the hallway. “Good luck.”
