9. Billie
CHAPTER 9
BILLIE
T o say that Billie was hesitant to work with Max again would have been an understatement.
Maybe she’d been a little hard on him. She could acknowledge that. When her volunteers made mistakes, she was always constructive and kind, which she hadn’t been with Max. Billie had expected him not to take the decorating seriously, and when she’d been faced with proof that he didn’t, she hadn’t reacted well. Maybe, if she’d been a little more understanding, he would have tried again with the tree.
But this wasn’t all on Billie. Max had been a jerk, too. Sure, he wasn’t that into Christmas, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t make an effort to help out instead of rushing so that he could get back to work. And he’d been wrong. It did matter how the tree was decorated. Billie had spent an extra hour making sure it looked perfect and, when the kids had arrived the next afternoon, they’d been awestruck and excited to see the beautiful tree.
Max cared about profit over all else, but he was wrong about that too. It mattered how you treated people and the kind of effort you gave, not just how much money you made.
Billie sighed. The decorating fiasco had happened several days ago, but she still found herself thinking about it. She’d even complained to her sister, Jamie, about how she was stuck with a rich jerk who couldn’t even decorate a Christmas tree properly, which really wasn’t that hard to do. Billie had left out the part about how they’d spent a night together beforehand, because that didn’t really have anything to do with their current situation.
Worse, it wasn’t like she could just cancel her arrangement with Max. She’d agreed to several photo shoots of Max “helping” her, and it was time to invite him to the next one. Trying to forget, or at least conceal, her annoyance, Billie got out her phone and dialed Max’s number. He picked up on the third ring.
“Billie?” He sounded surprised to hear from her.
“Hi, Max. I need to go shopping tomorrow to get some things from the kids’ wish lists.” She hesitated, trying to cultivate a polite and professional tone. “Would you like to… join me?”
“Yes, please.”
“If you’d just like to come to take a few photos, that’s fine.”
“No, I’ll really help this time. Where and when tomorrow?”
Billie gave the name of a local department store and suggested two in the afternoon.
“That sounds fine.” There was a pause on the other end. “How does the tree look?”
“Good now.”
“I’m glad to hear it. See you tomorrow, Billie.”
It wasn’t an apology, but it was the closest either of them was probably going to get. It just remained to be seen how the shopping would go the next day.
To Billie’s surprise, Max showed up at the department store the next day without Stephanie or his photographer.
“Where’s your entourage?” Billie asked, looking around the parking lot in case they were planning to jump out for some candid shots.
“It’s just me today,” Max said. “Stephanie asked that I get a few selfies of the two of us together, but she also implied that just being out in public would get enough attention.”
“Great. Attention. This should be fun.” Billie took a scrunchy off her wrist and tied her hair back into a ponytail. “Are you ready?”
“Wow, your hair is going up. This must be serious. Yes, I’m ready.”
“Great. Then grab a cart. We have a lot to buy today.”
Max obediently went to get a cart, and they headed into the store. Just like the outreach center, the store had been brightly decorated for Christmas. “Last Christmas” played over the speakers, and the first row of shelves was a display of Christmas decorations and wrapping paper. Miniature reindeer and fluffy-bearded Santa Clauses smiled at them as they passed.
“We’ll start in the baby section,” Billie told Max.
“Not in toys?”
“No, but we’ll go there next. We offer gifts to everyone from babies to teenagers, so it isn’t all toys — although it mostly is. I also try to pick up some special chocolate or gift sets for the parents if I have the budget — and this year, I do, thanks to you.”
“That’s thoughtful. To get gifts for parents, I mean.”
“They deserve it. They work so hard to make sure their kids have everything they need.”
They strolled through the baby section, where Billie picked up a few plush toys as well as several packs of onesies, a set of bottles, and a pile of diapers, crossing each item off her list as she went. Then it was on to the toy section.
“Do you see any plushie octopuses?” Billie asked, scanning the first shelf.
“Here’s one.” Max stretched up to retrieve a pale orange plush octopus with eight legs and an embroidered smile.
“Perfect. Put him in the cart.” Billie crossed the octopus off her list.
“So, these are lists from the kids at your center?”
“Mostly. I also collect wish lists from any other families who want to submit one. This octopus, for instance, is for…”— Billie cross-referenced her lists —”five-year-old Lukas from Loveland.”
“Loveland is kind of far.”
“I know. Delivering all the gifts on Christmas Eve is quite a trial. But it’s worth it.”
“What’s next?”
“We need a game of Monopoly, preferably the dog-themed one. Do you see it?”
“Over there.”
Slowly but surely, the pile of gifts in the cart increased. Board games and art kits were stacked side by side with baby dolls and train sets until Max precariously balanced a princess doll on the very top.
“I think we’re out of room.”
“We are. That means it’s time to keep this cart at the checkout desk and get another.” Billie put her hands on her hips and raised her eyebrows. “Unless you’re ready to head home?”
“Not a chance. We still need lots of gifts.”
They parked the cart near the checkout, asking a friendly cashier to keep an eye on it, and went back for a second cart. This time, they swung through the clothing section and stopped by school supplies on the way back to the toy aisle.
“What’s next?” Max asked.
“We need a remote-controlled airplane,” Billie said.
“Oh, cool.” Max led them to the mechanical-toys section, where remote-controlled vehicles of all types stood in rows. “I would have loved one of these when I was a kid. I always made paper airplanes and tried to fly them as far as possible. When I got older, I even made them out of balsa wood, but I never had a remote-controlled plane like this.”
“Why not?” Billie asked. Then she quickly covered her mouth. “Sorry, that was rude. I just meant… your family seems to have plenty of money for nice Christmas gifts. Didn’t your parents know you wanted a plane?”
“No, they did. But my father didn’t really believe in presents. He still doesn’t. He believes that you can only really enjoy something that you buy with money you earned yourself. And he thinks that gifts create expectations and obligations.”
“Oh.” Billie bit her lip as she took the remote-controlled plane Max held out to her. “That’s sad.”
“It’s all right.” Max gave her a sideways look. “Which of these gifts would you have loved as a child?”
“Probably one of the dolls,” Billie admitted. “I was always one of those girls who carried around a baby doll and pretended I was a mother.”
Max picked up a small baby doll and handed it to Billie. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” She cradled the doll in her arms. “Does little Goom Goom look like me?”
“Goom Goom?” Max began to laugh. “Did you just name your baby Goom Goom?”
“I couldn’t think of anything!” Billie giggled. “It was the first name that came into my mind.”
“Okay, fine — except that Goom Goom isn’t a name. It’s a sound, maybe, but it’s definitely not a name.”
“Oh, sure, because you’re such an expert. What would you name this baby?”
“She looks like a Tabitha,” Max said.
“Tabitha?” Billie began to laugh again. “That’s a good name, but where in the world did it come from?”
“It just came to me. I happen to be excellent at naming things.”
“Is that so?”
“Sure. I named Bluebell Diner.”
“I don’t think I believe that. You said you were just a kid when your parents opened their first restaurant.”
“I was, but I still named it. And not after the flower, like you might think. When I was little, I went to stay with my aunt and uncle on their farm for a few weeks and they had a cow with a blue bell around her neck. She was my favorite cow, and when I got home, I missed her so much that I persuaded my parents to name the diner after her.”
“This is so much new information.” Billie gently set the baby doll back on the shelf. “You stayed on a farm?”
“Sure. My parents were putting their finishing touches on the diner, which they wanted to call Homestyle Diner, by the way.”
“Terrible.” Billie rolled her eyes in jest, but Max nodded seriously, then undermined himself with a wink.
“So, they packed me off to the countryside to get a taste of farm life. I was probably five or so.”
“Do you remember any farm skills?”
“Not at all.” Max chuckled. “I don’t think I could milk a cow if it hit me in the face.”
“Let’s see.” Billie grabbed a stuffed cow from the shelf behind her. “Think fast!” She tossed the cow at Max, who expertly caught it out of the air.
“I feel like catching a cow is a bit different from milking one, but I like where your head was.” Max tossed the cow back to her. “We can call her Mrs. Cowper.”
Billie looked down at the cow’s embroidered face, including a happy smile and thoughtful eyes. “She does look like a Mrs. Cowper. Okay, I’ll admit that you’re good at naming things.”
“But now that we’ve named her, I feel bad leaving Mrs. Cowper here. Do you think one of the kids will want her?”
Billie scanned her list of toys. “Let’s see. Eloise, aged eleven, says that she loves animals and wants us to donate money to a charity that helps them. Maybe we can give her Mrs. Cowper as well as a donation.”
“Really?” Max circled the cart to look at the list with Billie. “I have trouble believing that an eleven-year-old would rather donate money than get a Christmas present.”
“Right here.” Billie pointed to the entry in question. “And I believe it. I know Eloise, at least a little. She comes to our afterschool program. She’s always helping younger kids with their homework and sharing her snacks with them. And I once saw her spend twenty minutes befriending a ladybug.”
“She sounds like a special kid.”
“She is. And I think she’ll love Mrs. Cowper, as long as we make a donation in Eloise’s name, too.”
“Excellent. We can make a name tag for Mrs. Cowper,” Max suggested. His blue eyes were lit in a way Billie hadn’t seen before. “And maybe we can write a little story about how Mrs. Cowper needs a family to take care of her.”
“Max Grayson.” Billie put her hands on her hips. “Do you care ?”
“Maybe just a little.” Max took the plush cow from Billie’s hands and put her into the cart. “What’s next?”
Over the next hour, Billie and Max were able to cross almost everything off the list. They found matchbox cars and chemistry sets, miniature telescopes and princess costumes, hairstyle dolls and turtle bath toys. Billie also added a stack of chocolate boxes and a few self-care gift baskets for the parents to the cart.
“Is that it?” Max asked.
“For now. I usually get another batch of wish lists in mid-December, so I’ll probably have one more trip, but we should be okay for now. Except…” Billie ran her finger down the list. “We didn’t find the Sunshine Sparkle Alpaca.”
“What exactly is a Sunshine Sparkle Alpaca?”
“It’s the dearest wish of Josefina, aged six. Apparently, it’s one of those really exciting toys that all the kids want this year. I’m surprised we only have one on the list.”
“And this store doesn’t have a Sunshine Sparkle Alpaca?”
“No.” Billie bit her lip thoughtfully. “But I should be able to get one on another shopping trip.”
“No way. What if all the stores have sold out by then? Let’s try somewhere else.”
“Don’t you need to get back to work?”
Max glanced at his watch. “It’s fine. It’s a Sunday afternoon and I don’t have that much to do.”
“All right, then. Let’s pay for all this and keep looking for the Sunshine Sparkle Alpaca.”
They paid for the gifts and loaded them into the car outside.
“Is this your car?” Max asked as he set a bulging bag on the back seat.
“No, it’s the official Sweetest Surprise car. I borrow it occasionally for personal use, but mostly I take public transit. Are you ready for the next store?” Billie put in the last bag and closed the trunk.
“You know it.”
“Actually, let’s drop these gifts at the outreach center first. It isn’t far.”
Back at the center, Max and Billie unloaded armfuls of gifts and stored them in Billie’s office. By the time they were finished, it looked like Santa’s workshop had been transferred to Denver. Stacks of toy boxes took up most of the floor space and a parade of dolls and plush animals lined Billie’s bookshelves.
“Are you ready for another store, or have you changed your mind after carrying one thousand bags?” Billie asked.
“I’m ready,” Max said. “Let’s find this Sunshine Sparkle Alpaca. At this point, I’m very curious about what it looks like.”
“Me too, actually. Let’s go.”
They piled back into the car, where Billie tuned the radio to a station playing Christmas songs and turned the volume up. She sang along to “White Christmas” and “Santa Baby” , then looked over at Max. He wasn’t singing.
“Sorry.” Billie turned the radio down. “I forgot that you’re not a fan of Christmas.”
“I’m not, but I don’t mind you singing.” Max turned the volume back up. “Just pretend I’m not here.”
Halfway through “Here We Come A-Wassailing” , they arrived at the next department store. Billie turned to Max with a serious expression.
“Remember, we’re here for one thing, and one thing only.” She locked eyes with him. “The Sunshine Sparkle Alpaca.”
“Yes ma’am!” Max saluted. “Let’s roll out.”
They headed into the store, but there were no Sunshine Sparkle Alpacas here, either. The next store was sold out, too. Finally, in the fourth store, Billie spotted a final box on the shelf and hurriedly grabbed it.
“Victory!” She held it up and hurried back to Max, who’d been looking in another aisle.
“Nice work. Okay, let’s see what’s so special about this toy.”
Billie turned the box so they could both read it. The alpaca inside, visible through a sheet of clear plastic, was white and sparkly with a picture of the sun on her flank. Her mane was rainbow-colored, and she wore a friendly smile.
“Well, we know that she can say sixteen unique phrases,” Max read off the box. “A talking alpaca. That makes sense.”
“She can walk, prance, lie down, and eat,” Billie added. “What do you think she eats?”
“Sunshine, of course. And she has a unique backstory in the included booklet.”
“Just like your Mrs. Cowper idea.” Billie and Max exchanged a smile. “Well, I’m very glad we found her. Little Josefina is going to be overjoyed.” She paused. “Thank you for coming with me.”
“It was my pleasure.” Max glanced at his watch again. “But I should be going now. I do have a few things to do this evening.”
“Of course. Wait!” Billie held up a hand. “What about your selfies?”
“Right. Do you mind taking one now?”
“Sure.”
Max got out his phone and held it up. Billie squeezed into the frame, her shoulder brushing Max’s, and, at the last moment, held up the alpaca. Max snapped the photo.
“Thanks, Billie.”
“No, thank you . I’ll see you for the next photo opportunity.”
“I’ll look forward to it.” Max grinned and headed out. Billie took the chance to pick up a few things she needed for her apartment, then bought the alpaca and her supplies and made her way home. She stopped at the outreach center first to drop off the Sunshine Sparkle Alpaca with the rest of the gifts, and, as she did, she smiled down at it. The alpaca was proof that, despite his prickly exterior and general dislike of all things holiday-related, Max actually cared. Maybe there was more to him than the wealthy jerk who’d refused to do a good job on the Christmas tree.
Despite her misgivings, Billie had enjoyed her afternoon with Max. It had been fun goofing around with him in the toy aisle and hunting down the elusive alpaca. Maybe the rest of the photo opportunities she’d agreed to wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Billie went home with a smile on her lips and a happy holiday warmth in her heart. She had the funding she needed, and Max was less of a jerk than she’d thought. Better still, she had the Christmas presents the kids had asked for. Things were looking up.