Chapter 6
Six
December, Five Years Ago
CJ
I’m wheezing under the weight of an overstuffed cardboard box and a bulging tote bag as I make my way to my designated spot on the lawn of Beaucoeur City Hall.
Peeking around the fluffy garland and massive pink balls spilling out of the top of the box, I glimpse the naked evergreen I’m aiming for and stagger over to it.
“Oh good,” says the woman who steps out from behind the tree. “You made it. I was worried I’d be doing this alone.”
“Hi!” I gasp out, hoping she won’t notice I’m a damp, panting mess who just rolled up late to the city’s tree-decorating event and had to park three blocks away.
Even though it’s the first weekend of December, I’m sweating under my coat, sweater, jeans, boots, hat, and mittens.
“Looks like we’re the ones prettying up tree number eighteen, huh? ”
The woman’s angular face pinches like she hates the very idea of a live Christmas tree, and my hackles go up. Who hates the smell of pine?
“I guess so.” She tucks her hands in the pockets of her pristine black overcoat and frowns at the profusion of branches in front of us. “My boyfriend was supposed to be here too, but apparently he’s stuck at work.”
“Oh, bummer.” Truthfully, I’m glad it’s just the two of us so I can avoid being the fifth wheel, but she’s taking his Saturday afternoon work commitment personally. I set the box on the ground, then groan in relief when I ease the tote bag off my arm. “Well. Hi. I’m CJ Parrish.”
“Hmm?” The blond looks up from where she’s been frowning at her phone. “Oh. Hi, Cece. I’m Reese McKay.”
I open my mouth to correct her, but her face is buried in her phone again.
I give a can you believe this glance around, but nobody else is nearby to catch my amused annoyance.
When I registered for this tree-decorating event, I was hoping to make a new friend or at least a friendly new work connection in my still-pretty-new-to-me town, but it’s already clear that Reese and I aren’t likely to be a love match (platonic besties edition).
Still, I’m determined to make today’s event fun—for me, at least. I’m a joiner; it’s what I do.
“Okay! So!” I speak in exclamation marks, as if it’ll make my assigned tree-decorating partner marginally more enthused, but if anything, the loud holiday cheer sharpens her tight features even more. “I brought a bunch of stuff!”
I gesture like a game show host at the supplies sitting on the ground between us, wincing inwardly at the weird choices I’m making.
I don’t do well in the face of icy disdain.
Then again, I didn’t spend the past two years starting a life in Beaucoeur and hustling to build a consulting firm from the ground up just to let one lemon-faced joy-hater throw me off course.
“I hope you’re okay with nutcrackers, because that’s what I went with.” I gesture grandly at them, although my mittens hide my nervous jazz hands.
Reese’s chilly blue eyes flick to my waving seal flippers, then down to my chaotic supplies, then up to my face.
My dismay at her shitty attitude must show because her pursed lips relax into a hint of a smile.
“I wouldn’t have gone pink, but I guess that’s the point of today.
I brought”—she gestures behind her—“red and green.”
Instead of asking her “Red and green what?” I clap my mittens together and chirp, “Fabulous! Let’s do it.”
The city’s idea for this year’s Festival of Trees is to pair people at random and not let them coordinate who’d bring what to see what kind of tree we create.
It’s supposed to promote cohesion and unity and peace on earth or something, but it all seems way less fun now that I’m paired with this… . Reese.
“So your boyfriend had a work emergency?” I ask as I pull packages of ornaments out of my tote. Maybe not the smartest conversation starter, but that annoyance is the only thing I’ve seen animate her so far.
“I wish. He’s such a workaholic.” Despite her earlier anger, there’s affection in her tone. Apparently, she’s not one of those women who actually hate their partners, which is nice.
“Same,” I say, yanking off my mittens to work on a tangle in the strand of snowflake-shaped lights I pulled from the bag.
This is what I get for unpacking them last night to check all the bulbs.
Only a sorceress could get them neatly packed up again.
“I wouldn’t want to be with someone who didn’t take work as seriously as I do. ”
“That makes two of us,” she says. “I just wish he cared a little less about work and a little more about...”
The me is unspoken, and I wince sympathetically. “Sorry about that.”
“Meh. I’m annoyed with him, not you.” Then she shocks me by unbuttoning her beautiful wool coat so she can crouch to start untangling one of the strands I tossed on the ground. “Thankfully, he’s a great partner most of the time.”
“Well that’s good,” I say, pumping my fist when I successfully unsnarl the last knot. “And it can be so hard to find balance. I have clients in all kinds of time zones, so my work hours are nuts. Makes it easy to end up scheduling things when the rest of the world is sleeping or playing.”
I glance up and shoot her a smile, and miracle of miracles, she offers me a small one back.
“What do you do?” she asks as she pulls a carton of star-shaped red and green ornaments out of her shopping bag.
“I’m an independent workplace consultant specializing in companies that embrace sustainable, equitable, and community-focused practices,” I tell her with a glow of pride at Parrish Consulting’s mission statement.
Then I twist my mouth into a rueful smile.
“Unfortunately, that’s not always the primary goal of the companies I work with.
I have bills to pay, so there’s a fair amount of run-of-the-mill organizational efficiency audits in there as well. ”
Now Reese is the one wincing.
“As someone whose company recently went through an audit, I’m here to say that you guys can be total assholes.” Before my outrage can fully spin up, she adds drily, “Then again, I imagine your clients can be total assholes right back.”
A startled laugh escapes me, and she laughs too.
It breaks more of the ice, and she picks up our newly orderly lights and indicates for me to help her start winding them around the tree.
After that, she starts to place her boring—okay, fine, traditional—ornaments at precise intervals around the tree, strictly alternating the red with the green.
To offset her structured design aesthetic, I take more of a free-flowing approach.
I fling my pink spheres onto whichever branch catches my fancy, then start unpacking the army of madly grinning nutcrackers I picked out last week.
They range in size from eight inches to four feet, and they all look demented enough to cause nightmares if they came to life. I love each and every one of them.
Reese gives the nutcracker closest to her a wary glance before returning to her favorite subject.
“I shouldn’t be venting.” She repositions one of my pink ornaments that apparently ended up too close to one of her red ones.
“He’s a really thoughtful guy. He’s always trying to figure out what I might want so he can surprise me with it.
I’m talking concert tickets, new restaurants to try, movies, jewelry… ”
I strangle my tiny spurt of jealousy. “That sounds amazing.”
“It would be if he actually knew what I liked.” She frowns the tiniest, woe-is-me frown. “Sometimes, he nails it. But other times, it’s like he has no idea who I am.”
“Yeah?” I peek around the tree to study her.
She looks expensive and pulled together, with stick-straight blonde hair and minimally elegant makeup.
Her dark brown boots have a pristine, glossy finish, and the pearls in her ears scream I’m classier than you can ever hope to be.
“I’d say you’re a professional woman who likes quality things, values her time, and doesn’t like to waste it. ”
“Exactly,” she says in exasperation. “Thank you. So tell me why he wants us to go on a New Year’s trip to Napa.”
I blink in surprise. “You don’t like the idea?”
“I mean, it’s a slow time of year for our division—we work for the same company,” she says. “So I guess it makes sense to take a trip that week. But why there?”
“Um, because wine? Spas? Sunshine? Fine dining?” I say. “That sounds like an incredible way to start the year.”
“Yeah. I suppose most women would be excited.”
“That’s me. Hi. I’m most women.”
She laughs and grabs some garland to wind around the tree. “I’ll tell him to take you instead. While you’re keeping him company, I’ll be off meeting with some of our peer companies in California to talk best practices.”
I shudder theatrically, then try to picture the kind of man Reese would end up with.
She’s already said he’s a workaholic, but is he as brisk and businesslike as she is?
Probably not; otherwise, he’d be using their vacation time to meet those competitors with her.
As for his looks… she’s beautiful, so he’s probably beautiful too.
But she’s the angular kind of beauty that’s the complete opposite of my fertility goddess curves, as my mom always refers to them.
So I’m guessing her boyfriend’s similar: lean, compact, precise.
Okay, my imagination’s straight-up galloping away now. I refocus and ask, “How long have you two been seeing each other?”
“We’re celebrating our two-year anniversary next month. Hence, Napa.”
“Hence,” I say. So she was being swept off her feet while I was still licking my wounds over losing my dream man and my dream job. God really does have favorites. “You said you met at work?”
She nods absently, picking up the little nutcracker nearest to her.
“It was past time. We’d been flirting forever, and he was clearly into me, but he didn’t make a move until I came up with a plan to push back on that terrible audit I mentioned.”