Christmas in Seattle: Christmas Letters / The Perfect Christmas
- -
- 100%
- +
“Downplay Christmas,” K.O. repeated, not sure what that meant.
“We aren’t putting up a tree.”
“No Christmas tree!” K.O. sputtered, doing a poor job of hiding her disapproval. She couldn’t imagine celebrating the holiday without decorating a tree. Her poor nieces would be deprived of a very important tradition.
“I might allow a small potted one for the kitchen table.” Zelda seemed a bit doubtful herself. She should be doubtful, since a Christmas tree had always been part of their own family celebration. The fact that their parents had moved to Arizona was difficult enough. This year they’d decided to take a cruise in the South Pacific over Christmas and New Year’s. While K.O. was happy to see her mother and father enjoying their retirement, she missed them enormously.
“Is this another of Dr. Jeffries’s ideas?” K.O. had read enough of his book—and heard more than enough about his theories—to suspect it was. Still, she could hardly fathom that even Wynn Jeffries would go this far. Outlaw Christmas? The man was a menace!
“Dr. Jeffries believes that misleading children about Santa does them lasting psychological damage.”
“The girls can’t have Santa, either?” This was cruel and unusual punishment. “Next you’ll be telling me that you’re doing away with the tooth fairy, too.”
“Why, yes, of course. It’s the same principle.”
K.O. knew better than to argue with her sister. “Getting back to Christmas…” she began.
“Yes, Christmas. Like I said, Zach and I are planning to make it a low-key affair this year. Anything that involves Santa is out of the question.”
Thankfully her sister was unable to see K.O. roll her eyes.
“In fact, Dr. Jeffries has a chapter on the subject. It’s called ‘Bury Santa Under the Sleigh.’ Chapter eight.”
“He wants to bury Santa Claus?” K.O. had heard enough. She’d personally bury Dr. Jeffries under a pile of plowed snow before she’d let him take Christmas away from Zoe and Zara. As far as she was concerned, his entire philosophy was unacceptable, but this no-Santa nonsense was too much. Here was where she drew her line in the snow—a line Wynn Jeffries had overstepped.
“Haven’t you been listening to anything I’ve said?” Zelda asked.
“Unfortunately, I have.”
Her doorbell chimed. “I need to go,” K.O. told her sister. She sighed. “I’ll see what I can do about that autograph.” “Yes, please,” Zelda said with unmistakable gratitude. “It would mean the world to me if you could get Dr. Jeffries’s autograph.”
Sighing again, K.O. replaced the receiver and opened the door to find her neighbor LaVonne standing there. Although standing wasn’t exactly the right word. LaVonne was practically leaping up and down. “I’m sorry to bother you but I just couldn’t wait.”
“Come in,” K.O. said.
“I can’t stay but a minute,” the retired CPA insisted as she stepped over the threshold, clutching Tom. “I did it!” she exclaimed. “I saw the future.” She squealed with delight and did a small jig. “I saw the future of your love life, K.O. It happened when I went to change the kitty litter.”
“The…kitty litter.” That was fitting, since it was where her love life happened to be at the moment. In some kind of toilet, anyway.
“Tom had just finished his business,” LaVonne continued, gazing lovingly at her cat, “and there it was, plain as day.”
“His business?” K.O. asked.
“No, no, the future. You know how some people with the gift can read tea leaves? Well, it came to me in the kitty-litter box. I know it sounds crazy but it’s true. It was right there in front of me,” she said. “You’re going to meet the man of your dreams.”
“Really?” K.O. hated to sound so disappointed. “I don’t suppose you happened to see anything in the kitty litter about me finding a job?”
LaVonne shook her head. “Sorry, no. Do you think I should go back and look again? It’s all in the way it’s arranged in the kitty litter,” she confided. “Just like tea leaves.”
“Probably not.” K.O. didn’t want to be responsible for her neighbor sifting through Tom’s “business” any more than necessary.
“I’ll concentrate on your job prospects next.”
“Great.” K.O. was far more interested in locating fulltime employment than falling in love. At twenty-eight she wasn’t in a rush, although it was admittedly time to start thinking about a serious relationship. Besides, working at home wasn’t conducive to meeting men. Zelda seemed to think that as a medical transcriptionist K.O. would meet any number of eligible physicians. That, however, hadn’t turned out to be the case. The only person in a white coat she’d encountered in the last six months had been her dentist, and he’d been more interested in looking at her X-rays than at her.
“Before I forget,” LaVonne said, getting ready to leave. “I’d like you to come over tomorrow for cocktails and appetizers.”
“Sure.” It wasn’t as if her social calendar was crowded. “Thanks.”
“I’ll see you at six.” LaVonne let herself out.
“Concentrate on seeing a job for me,” K.O. reminded her, sticking her head in the hallway. “The next time you empty the litter box, I mean.”
LaVonne nodded. “I will,” she said. As she left, she was mumbling to herself, something K.O. couldn’t hear.
The following morning, K.O. set up her laptop on a window table in the French Café, determined to wait for Dr. Jeffries. Now she felt obliged to get his autograph, despite her disapproval of his methods. More importantly, she had to talk to him about Christmas. This clueless man was destroying Christmas for her nieces—and for hundreds of thousands of other kids.
She had no intention of knocking on his door. No, this had to seem unplanned. An accidental meeting. Her one hope was that Wynn Jeffries was hooked on his morning latte. Since this was Seattle, she felt fairly certain he was. Nearly everyone in the entire state of Washington seemed to be a coffee addict.
In an effort to use her time productively, K.O. started work on the Mulcahy Christmas letter, all the while reminding herself that he was paying her double. She had two ideas about how to approach the situation. The first was comical, telling the truth in an outlandish manner and letting the reader assume it was some sort of macabre humor.
Merry Christmas from the Mulcahys, K.O. wrote. She bit her lip and pushed away a strand of long blond hair that had escaped from her ponytail. Bill and I have had a challenging year. Mason sends greetings from the juvenile detention center where he’s currently incarcerated. Julie is pregnant and we pray she doesn’t marry the father. Bill, at least, is doing well, although he’s worried about paying for the mental care facility where I’m receiving outpatient therapy.
K.O. groaned. This wasn’t humorous, macabre or otherwise. It was difficult to turn the Mulcahys’ disastrous year into comedy, especially since the letter was purportedly coming from them.
She deleted the paragraph and tried her second approach.
Merry Christmas from the Mulcahys, and what an—interesting? unexpected? unusual?—year it has been for our lovely family. K.O. decided on eventful. Bill and I are so proud of our children, especially now as they approach adulthood. Where have all the years gone?
Mason had an opportunity he couldn’t turn down and is currently away at school. Our son is maturing into a fine young man and is wisely accepting guidance from authority figures. Our sweet Julie is in her second year of college. She and her boyfriend have decided to deepen their relationship. Who knows, there might be wedding bells—and perhaps even a baby—in our daughter’s future.
So intent was she on putting a positive spin on the sad details of Bill Mulcahy’s year that she nearly missed Wynn Jeffries. When she looked up, it was just in time to see Dr. Jeffries walk to the counter. K.O. leaped to her feet and nearly upset her peppermint mocha, an extravagance she couldn’t really afford. She remained standing until he’d collected his drink and then straightening, hurried toward him.
“Dr. Jeffries?” she asked, beaming a winsome smile. She’d practiced this very smile in front of the mirror before job interviews. After her recent cleaning at the dentist’s, K.O. hoped she didn’t blind him with her flashing white teeth.
“Yes?”
“You are Dr. Jeffries, Dr. Wynn Jeffries?”
“I am.” He seemed incredibly tall as he stood in front of her. She purposely blocked his way to the door.
K.O. thrust out her hand. “I’m Katherine O’Connor. We live in the same building.” He smiled and shook her hand, then glanced around her. He seemed eager to escape.
“I can’t tell you what a surprise it was when La-Vonne pointed out that the author of The Free Child lived in our building.”
“You know LaVonne Young?”
“Well, yes, she’s my neighbor. Yours, too,” K.O. added. “Would you care to join me?” She gestured toward her table and the empty chairs. This time of day, it was rare to find a free table. She didn’t volunteer the fact that she’d set up shop two hours earlier in the hope of bumping into him.
He checked his watch as if to say he really didn’t have time to spare.
“I understand The Free Child has hit every bestseller list in the country.” Flattery just might work.
Wynn hesitated. “Yes, I’ve been most fortunate.”
True, but the parents and children of America had been most unfortunate in her view. She wasn’t going to mention that, though. At least not yet. She pulled out her chair on the assumption that he wouldn’t refuse her.
He joined her, with obvious reluctance. “I think I’ve seen you around,” he said, and sipped his latte.
It astonished her that he knew who she was, while she’d been oblivious to his presence. “My sister is a very big fan of yours. She was thrilled when she heard I might be able to get your autograph.”
“She’s very kind.”
“Her life has certainly changed since she read your book,” K.O. commented, reaching for her mocha.
He shrugged with an air of modesty. “I’ve heard that quite a few times.”
“Changed for the worse,” K.O. muttered.
He blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
She couldn’t contain herself any longer. “You want to take Santa away from my nieces! Santa Claus. Where’s your heart? Do you know there are children all over America being deprived of Christmas because of you?” Her voice grew loud with the strength of her convictions.
Wynn glanced nervously about the room.
K.O. hadn’t realized how animated she’d become until she noticed that everyone in the entire café had stopped talking and was staring in their direction.
Wynn hurriedly stood and turned toward the door, probably attempting to flee before she could embarrass him further.
“You’re no better than…than Jim Carrey,” K.O. wailed. She meant to say the Grinch who stole Christmas but it was the actor’s name that popped out. He’d played the character in a movie a few years ago.
“Jim Carrey?” He turned back to face her.
“Worse. You’re a…a regular Charles Dickens.” She meant Scrooge, darn it. But it didn’t matter if, in the heat of her anger, she couldn’t remember the names. She just wanted to embarrass him. “That man,” she said, stabbing an accusatory finger at Wynn, “wants to bury Santa Claus under the sleigh.”
Not bothering to look back, Wynn tore open the café door and rushed into the street. “Good riddance!” K.O. cried and sank down at the table, only to discover that everyone in the room was staring at her.
“He doesn’t believe in Christmas,” she explained and then calmly returned to the Mulcahys’ letter.
Chapter 3
The confrontation with Wynn Jeffries didn’t go well, K.O. admitted as she changed out of her jeans and sweater later that same afternoon. When LaVonne invited her over for appetizers and drinks, K.O. hadn’t asked if this was a formal party or if it would be just the two of them. Unwilling to show up in casual attire if her neighbor intended a more formal event, K.O. chose tailored black slacks, a white silk blouse and a red velvet blazer with a Christmas tree pin she’d inherited from her grandmother. The blouse was her very best. Generally she wore her hair tied back, but this evening she kept it down, loosely sweeping up one side and securing it with a rhinestone barrette. A little lip gloss and mascara, and she was ready to go.
A few minutes after six, she crossed the hall and rang LaVonne’s doorbell. As if she’d been standing there waiting, LaVonne opened her door instantly.
K.O. was relieved she’d taken the time to change. Her neighbor looked lovely in a long skirt and black jacket with any number of gold chains dangling around her neck and at least a dozen gold bangles on her wrists.
“Katherine!” she cried, sounding as though it’d been weeks since they’d last spoken. “Do come in and meet Dr. Wynn Jeffries.” She stepped back and held open the door and, with a flourish, gestured her inside.
Wynn Jeffries stood in the center of the room. He held a cracker raised halfway to his mouth, his eyes darting to and fro. He seemed to be gauging how fast he could make his exit.
Oh, dear. K.O. felt guilty about the scene she’d caused that morning.
“I believe we’ve met,” Wynn said stiffly. He set the cracker down on his napkin and eyed the door.
Darn the man. He looked positively gorgeous, just the way he did on the book’s dust jacket. This was exceedingly unfair. She didn’t want to like him and she certainly didn’t want to be attracted to him, which, unfortunately she was. Not that it mattered. She wasn’t interested and after their confrontation that morning, he wouldn’t be, either.
“Dr. Jeffries,” K.O. murmured uneasily as she walked into the room, hands clasped together.
He nodded in her direction, then slowly inched closer to the door.
Apparently oblivious to the tension between them, LaVonne glided to the sideboard, where she had wine and liquor bottles set on a silver platter. Sparkling wineglasses and crystal goblets awaited their decision. “What can I pour for you?” she asked.
“I wouldn’t mind a glass of merlot, if you have it,” K.O. said, all the while wondering how best to handle this awkward situation.
“I do.” LaVonne turned to Wynn. “And you, Dr. Jeffries?”
He looked away from K.O. and moved to stand behind the sofa. “Whiskey on the rocks.”
“Coming right up.”
“Can I help?” K.O. asked, welcoming any distraction.
“No, no, you two are my guests.” And then as if to clear up any misconception, she added, “My only guests.”
“Oh,” K.O. whispered. A sick feeling attacked the pit of her stomach. She didn’t glance at Wynn but suspected he was no more pleased at the prospect than she was.
A moment later, LaVonne brought their drinks and indicated that they should both sit down.
K.O. accepted the wine and Wynn took his drink.
With her own goblet in hand, LaVonne claimed the overstuffed chair, which left the sofa vacant. Evidently Dr. Jeffries was not eager to sit; neither was K.O. Finally she chose one end of the davenport and Wynn sat as far from her as humanly possible. Each faced away from the other.
“Wynn, I see you tried the crab dip,” LaVonne commented, referring to the appetizers on the coffee table in front of them.
“It’s the best I’ve ever tasted,” he said, reaching for another cracker.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it. The recipe came from Katherine.”
He set the cracker down and brushed the crumbs from his fingers, apparently afraid he was about to be poisoned.
K.O. sipped her wine in an effort to relax. She had a feeling that even if she downed the entire bottle, it wasn’t going to help.
“I imagine you’re wondering why I invited you here this evening,” LaVonne said. Phillip, her white Persian, strolled regally into the room, his tail raised, and with one powerful thrust of his hind legs, leaped into her lap. La-Vonne ran her hand down the length of his body, stroking his long, white fur. “It happened again,” she announced, slowly enunciating the words.
“What happened?” Wynn asked, then gulped his drink.
Dramatically, LaVonne closed her eyes. “The sight.”
Obviously not understanding, Wynn glanced at K.O.,
his forehead wrinkled.
“LaVonne took a class this week on unleashing your psychic abilities,” K.O. explained under her breath.
Wynn thanked her for the explanation with a weak smile.
LaVonne’s shoulders rose.“I have been gifted with the sight,” she said in hushed tones.
“Congratulations,” Wynn offered tentatively.
“She can read cat litter,” K.O. told him.
“That’s not all,” LaVonne said, raising one hand. “As I said, it happened again. This morning.”
“Not with the litter box?” K.O. asked.
“No.” A distant look came over LaVonne as she fixed her gaze on some point across the room.
Peering over her shoulder, K.O. tried to figure out what her neighbor was staring at. She couldn’t tell—unless it was the small decorated Christmas tree.
“I was eating my Raisin Bran and then, all of a sudden, I knew.” She turned slightly to meet K.O.’s eyes. “The bran flakes separated, and that was when two raisins bobbed to the surface.”
“You saw…the future?” K.O. asked.
“What she saw,” Wynn muttered, “was two raisins in the milk.”
LaVonne raised her hand once more, silencing them. “I saw the future. It was written in the Raisin Bran even more clearly than it’d been in the cat litter.” She pointed a finger at K.O. “Katherine, it involved you.”
“Me.” She swallowed, not sure whether to laugh or simply shake her head.
“And you.” LaVonne’s finger swerved toward Wynn. Her voice was low and intent.
“Did it tell you Katherine would do her utmost to make a fool of me at the French Café?” Wynn asked. He scooped up a handful of mixed nuts.
As far as K.O. was concerned, nuts was an appropriate response to her neighbor’s fortune-telling.
LaVonne dropped her hand. “No.” She turned to K.O. with a reproachful frown. “Katherine, what did you do?”
“I…” Flustered she looked away. “Did…did you know Dr. Jeffries doesn’t believe in Santa Claus?” There, it was in the open now.
“My dear girl,” LaVonne said with a light laugh. “I hate to be the one to disillusion you, but there actually isn’t a Santa.”
“There is if you’re five years old,” she countered, glaring at the man on the other end of the sofa. “Dr. Jeffries is ruining Christmas for children everywhere.” The man deserved to be publicly ridiculed. Reconsidering, she revised the thought. “He should be censured by his peers for even suggesting that Santa be buried under the sleigh.”
“It appears you two have a minor difference of opinion,” LaVonne said, understating the obvious.
“I sincerely doubt Katherine has read my entire book.”
“I don’t need to,” she said. “My sister quotes you chapter and verse in nearly every conversation we have.”
“This is the sister who asked for my autograph?”
“Yes,” K.O. admitted. Like most men, she concluded, Dr. Jeffries wasn’t immune to flattery.
“She’s the one with the children?”
K.O. nodded.
“Do you have children?”
LaVonne answered for her. “Katherine is single, the same as you, Wynn.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” he returned.
K.O. thought she might have detected a smirk in his reply. “It doesn’t surprise me that you’re single, either,” she said, elevating her chin. “No woman in her right mind—”
“My dears,” LaVonne murmured. “You’re being silly.”
K.O. didn’t respond, and neither did Wynn. “Don’t you want to hear what I saw in my cereal?”
Phillip purred contentedly as LaVonne continued to stroke his fluffy white fur.
“The future came to me and I saw—” she paused for
effect “—I saw the two of you. Together.”
“Arguing?” Wynn asked.
“No, no, you were in love. Deeply, deeply in love.”
K.O. placed her hand over her heart and gasped, and then almost immediately that remark struck her as the most comical thing she’d ever heard. The fact that La-Vonne was reading her future, first in cat litter and now Raisin Bran, was ridiculous enough, but to match K.O. up with Wynn—It was too much. She broke into peals of laughter. Pressing her hand over her mouth, she made an effort to restrain her giggles.
Wynn looked at her curiously.
LaVonne frowned. “I’m serious, Katherine.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude. LaVonne, you’re my friend and my neighbor, but I’m sorry, it’ll never happen. Never in a million years.”
Wynn straightened. “While Katherine and I clearly don’t see eye to eye on any number of issues, I tend to agree with her on this.”
LaVonne sighed expressively. “Our instructor, Madam Ozma, warned us this would happen,” she said with an air of sadness. “Unbelievers.”
“It isn’t that I don’t believe you,” K.O. rushed to add. She didn’t want to offend LaVonne, whose friendship she treasured, but at the same time she found it difficult to play along with this latest idea of hers. Still, the possibility of a romance with just about anyone else would have suited her nicely.
“Wynn?” LaVonne said. “May I ask how you feel about Katherine?”
“Well, I didn’t officially meet her until this morning.”
“I might’ve given him the wrong impression,” K.O. began. “But—”
“No,” he said swiftly. “I think I got the right impression. You don’t agree with me and I had the feeling that for some reason you don’t like me.”
“True…well, not exactly. I don’t know you well enough to like or dislike you.”
LaVonne clapped her hands. “Perfect! This is just perfect.”
Both K.O. and Wynn turned to her. “You don’t really know each other, isn’t that correct?” she asked.
“Correct,” Wynn replied. “I’ve seen Katherine around the building and on Blossom Street occasionally, but we’ve never spoken—until the unfortunate incident this morning.”
K.O. felt a little flustered. “We didn’t start off on the right foot.” Then she said in a conciliatory voice, “I’m generally not as confrontational as I was earlier today. I might’ve gotten a bit…carried away. I apologize.” She did feel guilty for having embarrassed him and, in the process, herself.
Wynn’s dark eyebrows arched, as if to say he was pleasantly surprised by her admission of fault.
“We all, at one time or another, say things we later regret,” LaVonne said, smiling down on Phillip. She raised her eyes to K.O. “Isn’t that right, Katherine?”
“Yes, I suppose so.”
“And some of us,” she went on, looking at Wynn, “make hasty judgments.”
He hesitated. “Yes. However in this case—”
“That’s why,” LaVonne said, interrupting him, “I took the liberty of making a dinner reservation for the two of you. Tonight—at seven-thirty. An hour from now.”
“A dinner reservation,” K.O. repeated. Much as she liked and respected her neighbor, there was a limit to what she was willing to do.
“It’s out of the question,” Wynn insisted.
“I appreciate what you’re doing, but…” K.O. turned to Wynn for assistance.
“I do, as well,” he chimed in. “It’s a lovely gesture on your part. Unfortunately, I have other plans for this evening.”
“So do I.” All right, K.O.’s plans included eating in front of the television and watching Jeopardy, and while those activities might not be anything out of the ordinary, they did happen to be her plans.
“Oh, dear.” LaVonne exhaled loudly. “Chef Jerome Ray will be so disappointed not to meet my friends.”
If Wynn didn’t recognize the name, K.O. certainly did. “You know Chef Jerome Ray?”
“Of Chez Jerome?” Wynn inserted.
“Oh, yes. I did his taxes for years and years. What most people don’t realize is that Jerome is no flash in the pan, if you’ll excuse the pun. In fact, it took him twenty years to become an overnight success.”