2. Happy Christmas
HAPPY CHRISTMAS
ROSALIND
O f all holidays, Christmas is my favourite. A notable merry-maker, I take after my father and grandmother before me. I loved setting up trees and perfecting the lights. I lived for the cheer, my mother’s cocoa, and Christmas carols. I’d be back in the UK in little over a week, celebrating Christmas with my mother’s best friend—Queen Natalie—and her extended family in Norfolk. While that was fun, I’d miss setting up the Christmas display at our Scotland home. The Castle boasted lovely candlelit tours throughout December. I strove to make it spectacular.
Well, m ost years , that was. This year, I could leave that to other family members all autumn. I arrived in the States to look at broodmares for my family’s racing program and stayed with my boyfriend. He planned to sail all the Caribbean and American races. I was always supposed to be in Miami just before Christmas, but I’d expected to be on his rig rather than spending my spare time on my brother and father’s beloved schooner in port.
We broke up a month ago. I said goodbye to Callan when I found him texting a woman right before me—a woman who also dated his best mate at the time. Bad choices were made, and I wanted nothing to do with them. I could meet my family as planned or spend weeks alone. I chose to stay in the States to meet up. The problem was my parents’ yacht was packed with guests. So, here I was, on our schooner.
I did everything I planned to do as a sailing WAG, only now I was a fifth wheel for my brothers and their wives. It was annoying as fuck. My sisters were busy in the UK with their own families, and I felt all alone. Thankfully, I had family friends about.
“Oh my God! Darling, you made it!” Betty threw her arms around me.
Princess Betty was slightly younger but always sweet. We’d been friends practically since her birth.
“I did. Ish. And I’m avoiding someone. Remember?”
“Oh, fuckface? Yeah, he’s about. We can keep tabs on the wanker. Promise you won’t be alone with him.”
I wished that were true, but given his frequent grovelling messages and her flirtatious nature, I expected her to ditch me at some point in the evening. I’d not hold it against her. I understood and would have done the same if I were in the mood.
“Let’s find you a palate cleanser!” Betty declared. “Oh, yes! Let’s find you someone absolutely delicious.”
I rolled my eyes, “Betty, I do not want to get involved.”
“But… you do. Let’s find you someone to make him green with envy. He can be daft but must be fit as hell.”
I looked around, determining who might be worth the risk of a very public walk of shame down the dock. Word would get back to London. My older brother Niall would tease me mercilessly. Then, Tatler would run a blind item to suggest I was back on the horse. Was it worth it?
“He’d have to be both hot and clever to make it worth my time. And anyway, I don’t think it will stop Callan from trying.”
“Callan doesn’t deserve you. The best revenge is living well, love.”
We grabbed drinks at the pool bar. I thought about what I could say to take the focus off my singlehood. As I debated how to do that, a man in a cerulean jacket holding a microphone stood near the bar, commanding attention as the DJ’s mix of Pitbull songs ended. For that, I was grateful.
“Hello, everyone! Who is excited to attend the eighty-fourth running of the Palador International?”
“Danny Rodrigo, the president,” Betty whispered.
I nodded in acknowledgement.
A cheer went out.
“We’d like to thank our sponsor for the glorious spirits flowing and our members and many international participants for attending.”
Another cheer followed by two drunk men shouting, “Fuck yeah!”
It was too early for that.
“Okay, so we have many events planned. This is a reminder that tomorrow, we will give a walkthrough of our various courses as our youth competitors prepare for their races. Youth races follow. Then, the Melges class, followed by some dancing and drinks. I encourage you all to take part in our boat parade on Monday! The winner gets a wonderful barrel of rum. All boats are welcome! Take the first laps near the glorious, renovated and restored Miami Marine Stadium.”
“Boat parade?”
“Christmas decorations. They’re the floats,” Betty whispered.
I perked. “Now, that is a brilliant idea!”
“Then, of course, the Rum Runner. We have thirty-seven entries of all sizes—with two classes. There is something for everyone in this race. We look forward to a week of fun. Now, drink up and get in the Christmas spirit.”
There was one last cheer. I didn’t care about races or dances. I was focused solely on decorating my boat to the fullest. It was time to think up something brilliant. I would win the damn barrel of rum. Was I a fan of rum? No. Was I obsessed with Yuletide cheer? Yes. This was my moment.