Chapter Sixteen
Marcel
“No. Absolutely not, this is where I draw the line. I could break my back,” I complain as Juliet drags me toward the stand where a man and woman are renting ice skates to the public. “And I’m not wearing rental shoes.” Just the thought of it sickens me.
“I tried something for the first time with you,” she gives me a sexy evil grin.
“That was entirely different.”
Was it though?
She might have been just as frightened to have sex for the first time but she never let me know. However, Juliet does everything with bravery and grace.
“I guess you could buy a pair, they have a few for sale, maybe they have some in your size.” She walks over to the vendors and I take her hand.
“I can’t,” I confess, too afraid to try to ice skate, which looks impossible.
“But it’s fun,” she looks defeated.
“Not to me. I can watch you skate.” I give her a loving smile.
“Not without you.” She cocks her head. “Ready to check out the library, then? We have about an hour before we need to head over to Fire Lake for the Festival and Christmas market.”
“Festival?” That sounds exciting and overwhelming.
“Yes, every year they have a Christmas pageant at night on boats with only fire to light them. You watch them pass as from the docks. It’s a really fun tradition and it’s free to the community.
Around the lake is the Christmas market, modeled after ones in Europe where you can get handcrafted gifts and specialty items.”
“Sounds amazing,” I groan, because Juliet is winning this war.
I grumble under my breath as we cross the snowy street toward the library. “You realize you’ve shown me more Christmas spirit in a few hours than I’ve had in my entire life?”
Juliet flashes me a grin that could melt glaciers. “Good, because I am just getting started.”
Inside, the library is glowing with golden light.
A group of seniors in loud Christmas sweaters and Santa hats are dancing with headphones on, hips swaying to music from a DJ.
A woman with a blinking reindeer necklace spins her partner, and they both laugh like kids.
The air smells like apple cider and cinnamon.
Juliet threads her arm through mine and pulls me toward a cozy reading corner. “This,” she whispers, “is my favorite place in the library."
She walks me toward a quaint reading nook.
There are pillows piled high in the corner and three large couches also adorned with ubiquitous pillows.
A couple of big arm chairs, a loveseat, and some soft inviting spaces on the floor, round out the nook.
Juliet brings us to the loveseat. She goes to the bookshelf and lifts a worn hardcover from several tattered books and shows me: How the Grinch Stole Christmas.
I can’t help but laugh. In the front pocket just behind the first page is a stamped title “Library Book Club" and under it is a handwritten note.
Pick a book, read it, and leave your review on the card.
“It’s like talking to everyone who’s ever held it.
” Juliet whispers and tucks herself onto the loveseat, patting the spot beside her.
I sit in a space barely big enough for us both.
She opens the book, clears her throat dramatically, and begins reading softly as a mother is doing the same with her son in the corner.
Both Juliet and the mother, who wears a red and green tartan scarf, read with quiet animated voices.
The little boy has on antlers I note are from a box of festive apparel on a table that says wearing these will make you giggle.
Juliet reads using silly accents for different characters.
“Every Who down in Whoville liked Christmas a lot, but the Grinch who lived just north of Whoville did not!”
When she makes a jab into my side, I know she’s teasing me about how much like the Grinch I am and I laugh.
My laughter is rusty and reluctant at first, then I’m genuinely giggling.
She glows at the sound of my voice as she continues to read about a potbellied green monster that literally robs a sweet insignificant Who village of their Christmas and they find joy anyway.
When she finishes, I take the book from her hands and lean in, kissing her softly. “See the Who’s did just fine without Christmas," I murmur against her lips.
“Ugh, you are horrible,” she protests and lowers her voice so only I can hear her.
“You know in the Christmas-to-come version of the story, the Scrooge version, the Grinch ruins a community. He tears down its historic building and displaces all of the lower income residents.” I glare at her, playfully knowing where this is going.
“What happens in that version of events, Ma Chérie?” I am dying to see how she’ll turn the story around on me.
“He and his shriveled up heart are found frozen to death and forgotten.”
“And in the version where he saves the day and the community?” I lean back waiting to see how she’ll spin it.
“He’s a hero, and they put his name on a plaque on the wall.
And he has friends and a family. But all of that doesn’t matter because he’s just proud he did the right thing—the only thing.
And the one-night stand he initiated into the mile high club will have yet another fond memory of him.
” She positively glows as she lowers her voice to whisper these last words.
“Do you know you brighten every corner of the world, Juliet?” Yes, I veer her off topic, but I’m also struck by this notion and I lean in and kiss her, with tongues, perhaps just a little inappropriate for present company.
Her breath catches, and for a moment I feel like maybe, just maybe, there’s a heart in my chest after all. Everyone stares at us for a moment, but go back to their books and each other quickly. Juliet ends our kiss with flushed cheeks and words of caution.
“Careful, Gran is here.” Likely that sparky old woman was, she strikes me as a silent disco-er.
“Yes, well if Gran wants me to save Christmas, she’s going to have to let me kiss you.”
Juliet stands and offers me her hand, so sweet. “We better go, the show starts soon.” She and I leave the reading nook and, as earlier assumed, Gran is at the silent disco with a fella who looks like he’s about to fall over.
Juliet blows Gran a kiss which she grabs mid-air, she throws me a glare, and we walk out. I do feel a pang in my apparently too-small heart. There is nothing but love between them and if I were being truthful with myself, it’s the kind of love I’ve always wanted.
Juliet and I step back into the cold and wander toward the lake. A vendor is roasting chestnuts over an open flame and the smell is irresistible.
“Are all of the sweet Christmas characters in Eaton actors in a Hallmark Christmas movie?” I ask because everything seems too perfect.
“No, these are just people being people.” Her soft sweet grin has me wanting to kiss her again.
I buy a bag of chestnuts, and we share them as we walk, our gloves brushing.
People are strolling with picnic baskets, blankets, and chairs and I realize this is yet another community event that will be disrupted by the mega luxury housing project.
Billionaires with weekend getaway townhouses will not be schlepping down to the lake to see some fire.
This lake is actually more of a pond, nothing to write home about, but the community has made it a special place.
There are vendors in European styled kiosks selling mulled wine, holiday themed trinkets, and handmade items, all surrounding the lake. It feels like another world.
On Fire Lake, the festival is alive. Boats glide across the water with dancers performing The Nutcracker.
More boats carrying the orchestra float past with music blasting over the event from several large speakers.
It’s fascinating how beautifully choreographed the ballet on water is.
When the show ends, a parade of boats follows: sleek speedboats and humble fishing vessels alike pass by, each draped in twinkling lights and tinsel.
A woman hands us steaming mugs of cider, and I accept, letting the warmth seep through my hands.
Juliet’s eyes are wide, reflecting the lights on the lake. I don’t want the night to end, but my stomach growls. “This was lovely, Juliet. I can feel the warmth of Christmas even through the cold and as much as I love gingerbread and chestnuts,” I admit, “I’m starving for something substantial.”
“I’ve had fun today,” Juliet admits with a sad little smile. “I can walk back to the library and take the bus home with Gran.” Her voice dips with disappointment.
She sees the woman with the apple cider and waves at her. The woman waves back and makes a scooping motion with her hands.
“Here,” a man next to her says with a flirty grin. “She wants you to pass them down.”
“Oh,” Juliet says. She hands him our mugs and he nods at her as the lady smiles. And again I’m hit with that lovely warmth that a caring community offers. A gated residence that keeps itself locked away from the world certainly doesn’t have this kind of charm.
“I’ll call my driver to take you home when the time comes, but I thought you might join me for dinner?” I am really sinking my whole heart into this terrible idea, but it hits me hard. I want to stay with her and show her a little of my world.
“Sure, I just need to let Gran know. Where are you thinking?” She looks relieved that our evening will continue.
“Can you tell Gran that I’ve got you for the night?” I am literally shaking at this point, asking Juliet to spend another night with me.
“Where?” She comes back suspicious, as she should be, of my intentions.
“It’s going to be a surprise.” I bite my lip and fight back nausea because I’ve never done this with a woman before.
With Clara, everything had been planned. She didn’t like surprises so I never popped anything on her. I never bothered to do anything but pick up the tab for dinner or drinks. This is a big step for a womanizing Grinch like me.
“Well, here’s the risky part. I’m not going to tell you where.” I smiled and fought my own nerves.
“Are you kidnapping me?” She giggles and that puts me more at ease.
“Sort of, yes.” Oh boy, am I ready for this? I ask myself because this is a big step.
“Sure.” She looks at me suspiciously as she takes out her phone and calls her Gran.
I ring my driver and the airport where I charter a last minute flight.
Luckily we’re only going to New York, and the Chester Street Society has several planes on standby at all times.
By the time we reach the airport our plane will be waiting for us.
It’s an hour flight to Rhode Island, so we had about an hour and a half to get to the airport and check in.
Within the hour we are on our way after Gran insisted I tell her what was happening.
So, with Gran in my confidence and Juliet packing a small overnight bag, we head to the airport.
“No,” Juliet laughs. “Not the airport. Now, I’m never going to be able to fly on a plane and not think of you. Very Grinchy, Mr. Grinch,” she huffs.
“You don’t own all the memories of an airport, you know. I’ll likely never fly without thinking of your soft, sweet—”
“Don’t.” With a vicious glare to put me in my place.
“Smile,” I finish with a smarmy grin.
We check in, and we’re directed to the private part of the airport.
“What kind of plane are you taking me on?” she asks, breathless.
“I know you’re not a fan of money, but it can buy a few nice things, like a private jet.” I wave my arm to the tarmac where the CSS charter awaits.
The bill will go to my estate. I can order a jet anytime I want, either one we own or one we can rent through our business partnerships. It's like having my own plane, without having to hire staff and maintain it.
“A private jet?” Juliet nearly squeaks.
“I made sure they have vegan hot chocolate onboard,” I tease her as we make our way up the stairs to the small, but comfortable cabin.
“It’s just an hour flight,” I say as a means to tell her we really don’t have the time to renew our membership in the mile high club. “All we’ll have time to do I’m afraid is have a few appetizers; the staff won’t be letting us out of our seats.”
She gives me a sexy grin. “Oh, that’s too bad.”
God, this woman is doing my head in. She’s pretty much in awe for the entire journey. The attendant brings us caviar, creme fraiche, and crackers, but since Juliet is a vegan there is a similar dish made with capers and cashew cream.
“This is amazing,” she says, taking a bite.
I eat escargot, but she gets button mushrooms in the same garlicky sauce.
We have baguettes, and several cheeses, three of which are artisanal vegan versions of mine.
“It’s actually quite fun to have you eat vegan items that are inspired by foods I love,” I say to her, enjoying the faces she makes when she tastes something new.
“You might be way too innocent, sweet, Christmas-obsessed, and eat weirdly, but you’re a pleasure to be around.” What a shitty compliment, but I’m dangerously close to falling in love with her.