’TWAS
THE SPY
BEFORE
CHRISTMAS
By Connie Keenan
For Brandon & Yesica
’TWAS THE SPY BEFORE CHRISTMAS
Connie Keenan
Copyright © 2011 by Connie Keenan
Smashwords Edition
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CHAPTER ONE
The dress was a size six. A size six that fit her like a glove. Beth Gardner would have bought it for that reason alone, if it wasn’t such a totally frivolous waste of money. She lingered in front of the mirror, giggling to herself.
“It’s probably really just a small size ten,” she announced at last.
“No, Mom, I’m telling you it’s a size six,” her daughter argued. “That’s how much weight you lost these past few months. Not only does it fit you and it’d be perfect for the party, but it’s a great price, too. Splurge a little and buy it.”
“I don’t think so. Just because something fits, doesn’t mean it’s age-appropriate, Lindsay. This is something that would look great on you. On me, it looks like I should’ve worn it a few decades ago.”
A nearby sales associate overheard Beth’s comment and laughed lightly, then quickly added, “Actually, that’s not true. You look very stunning. And with that figure, you can definitely get away with it.”
It took a moment for her to recover enough to mumble a delayed, “Thank you.” She turned again to face the full-length mirror placed right outside of the department store’s dressing room.
It wasn’t that Beth Gardner wasn’t used to compliments. She’d received enough of those about her hair and her taste in clothes, purses and such. But being complimented on her figure? That was a new one. Then again, she’d spent much of the past several years being over thirty pounds overweight.
That woman standing in the mirror was almost unrecognizable. The dress was the shortest she’d worn since before she’d become a bride at the age of twenty-one, certainly shorter than the below-the-knees, conservative dresses and long gypsy skirts in her closet. A classic little black dress, with a V neckline and back that accentuated her now more pronounced collarbones and slender shoulders. It was sleeveless, with a gathering in the front, and in actuality the hem only came about two inches above the knee. She was still showing a bit more leg than usual.
“Simple black pumps would look very sexy with that,” her eighteen-year-old daughter explained, standing right behind her. “You don’t want to wear too much. Just a pretty bracelet. Something not too chunky. You know, just the right amount of bling.”
“Hmmmm. It’s a nice thought, Linds, but I really don’t think I’m going to the party.”
Lindsay tossed her head in exasperation. “But why not? Mom, it’s a Christmas party. You have to go.”
“No, I don’t have to go.”
“But it’s Christmas!”
“Exactly. You know what that means. I have so much to do. Shopping, getting the house ready, all that stuff. I don’t have time for parties. Besides, I can’t take Chloe with me. The grownups there wouldn’t appreciate a little girl getting fussy—”
“That’s not an excuse. She’s got her Aunt Lindsay to hang out with while you go party the night away.” Her daughter drew closer and stage-whispered into her ear, “Buy the dress, Mom. Go to the party. You’re only young once. And you’re young!”
Beth sighed. “I appreciate the thought, honey. But I’m forty-six. And I’m raising my granddaughter. My days of wearing a dress like this are over.”
“Mom, for the love of—buy the dress. Or I’ll buy it for you.”
That strain in Lindsay’s voice wasn’t typical of her. She wasn’t a drama queen, though they both joked about Chloe having a dramatic side, taking after her mother in that area. To Beth’s surprise, her eyes, which were as hazel as her father’s had been, had glistened over with unshed tears.
“Why is this so important to you?” she whispered.
“Because it is, Mom. Because we lost Daddy and then we lost Heather. And, like you said, you’re raising another little kid. You’ve been through a lot these past few years and you’ve got a lot on your plate. So please do this for me. Make me happy. Buy the dress and go to the party. It’ll only be for a couple of hours anyway.”
Reluctantly, Beth glanced at the price tag again. It wasn’t that expensive, in all honestly. With the promotion discount card the store had sent in the mail, she’d even get an additional twenty percent off the total, bringing the price to a few dollars under a hundred. It was still a frivolous purchase.
But didn’t a woman have the right to be a little frivolous sometimes?
And it was a size six, after all.
“Okay, fine. I’ll get it. And I’ll go to the party,” she conceded.
“Yes!” Lindsay gave her a squeeze and a peck on the cheek. “I knew you’d see it my way! Be honest now, Mother. Am I not wise beyond my years?”
“You’re a major pain in the butt, is what you are.” In spite of herself, Beth had trouble holding back a smile. “Listen, if people start drinking too much and acting ridiculous, I’m out of there.”
“That’s fine. Stay at least an hour and a half. Just long enough to catch up with Uncle Trace and Aunt Alondra. Plus show off your outfit and sample some of the goodies to eat. That night I’ll be making cookies with my niece and letting her stay up later than usual.”
“Oh, Chloe’s going to love that. Let me change out of this.”
“You can change back into your things as long as you don’t also change your mind.”
Slim chance of that, Beth thought as she returned to the dressing room and closed the door behind herself. Even if she did change her mind, she knew how headstrong her younger daughter could be. There was no way Lindsay would be letting her out of the deal.
In a way, she was grateful for that. Carefully, because she didn’t often handle party dresses and she fretted over pulling a thread or damaging the zipper somehow, she slipped back out of the dress and replaced it onto its hanger. Waiting for her on a single chair propped into one corner of the dressing room was her long, wine-colored cable-knit sweater, jeans and black ankle boots.
A size six. How ironic was that? For the past few years she’d tried so hard to lose weight, and yet as soon as she’d lost three or four pounds, the weekend would come and the numbers on the scale would zip right back up again. It seemed so much easier to diet during the week. Once Friday, Saturday and Sunday hit, so did the urge for chips, desserts and other tempting treats. Even with diligently devoting her time to outdoor walking and the treadmill, the weight had stubbornly clung to her petite frame.
This time, however, without even trying, her weight had steadily dropped—and all because she’d been busy chasing after an active toddler in between working a full-time job. That, and the fact that she was eating more healthfully as a result of wanting to feed Chloe healthier meals. For good measure she’d kept up with exercising on her treadmill, which always waited by her bedroom window, so she could hear the little one if she stirred in the next room.
It’s too early for party-going. She drew in a breath, noting that it felt like she was bleeding internally. Heather, her firstborn, had died two years earlier. For the sake of her younger daughter and granddaughter she’d continued with all the festivities, all those things related to the major holidays. But her heart hadn’t been into it at all.
Now this was a party. An affair thrown by her former brother- and sister-in-law, no less. That meant it would be a real party, not some demure, tea-and-scones get-together. She’d already earned the title of “Lady Scrooge” for turning down the invitation the year before.
So maybe it was time to resume life. As strange as it would seem attending the event without Dale at her side, at least she’d make a splash with her new figure in her new dress.
“Now onto the shoe department,” Lindsay announced with a bright smile, “to get you those hoochie heels!”
“Okay, have your fun!” Beth found herself appreciating her daughter’s playful tease. “Just remember this hoochie needs to pick up your niece at the daycare.”
“Okay, but on the way home can we pick up our tree? This is about the time we always used to get it when Dad was alive.”
She turned to see her Lindsay smiling bravely, even as she swallowed hard. Saying those words were still difficult for her.
“Sure we can, honey.” She wrapped an arm around her daughter’s shoulders.
Maybe it was wearing a gorgeous dress that had made her feel young again; maybe it was just the spirit of the season. Whatever it was, she felt stronger than she had in a long time.
“And you know what?” she went on. “We’re going all-out this year.”
“We are?”
“Yep. Let’s do that for Chloe. For you…” The store’s decorations had most likely gone up right before Thanksgiving, but the glittery silver and gold tinsel and rose-red, huge bows set strategically throughout the room caught her eye. “…and for me.”
****
“Did you hear from Dad yet, Donnie? He should’ve been here by now. I’m worried about him.”
When her older brother didn’t answer right away, Cara O’Neal peeked at him over her shoulder.
“Donnie?”
“Yeah, I heard you. He’s a big boy. He should make it here okay.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
The last thing she needed was to deal with her brother’s attitude. Cara watched him saunter into the kitchen, which hadn’t seemed so small and cramped when she’d first agreed to rent the place. Three roommates later, one of whom was Donny himself, that room now felt shrunken and less efficient than ever.
“Sorry. I’m just not excited as you are about him coming here,” he mumbled.
“Well, yeah, I sensed your lack of enthusiasm. But Daddy is coming and I’d like you to be nice to him. If you can’t be nice, it’s going to get real uncomfortable in this house, real fast.”
“Look, I know that already. I don’t need my kid sister fussing at me on top of everything.” One of the boxes he’s gotten down from the hallway closet tumbled out of his arms, followed by the sound of something inside it shattering. Donnie winced and swore under his breath. “Ah, Christmas. Bah, humbug.”
Cara held her tongue, praying silently, Please don’t let that be something from when we were little that broke. She sighed with relief when she reached for the box. Those glass ornaments in fact were from early on, probably not long after their parents’ divorce, but they were nothing that couldn’t be replaced.
What she wanted to keep forever, maybe pass on to her own kids someday, were those precious things before their parents had split up. The wonderful ornaments that had been collected over the years, either bought in shops at the mall or those whimsical, handmade things they’d made in art class or some that Mom and Dad had purchased in their travels.
Donnie pretended not to care about them, but it was clear by the way he held the ornaments and gazed at them with a doleful grin that he wanted his share of them. Cara knew those things weren’t only special to her, that they meant something to her brother as well, even if he kept that part of him under wraps.
“You know, you shouldn’t get your hopes up,” Donny advised as he placed the remaining boxes on the table. “He might’ve changed his mind about coming.”
“He’s not going to do that. He’s on the way.”
“I know. That’s what he said. Wouldn’t be the first time he disappoints you.”
“You mean it wouldn’t be the first time he disappoints you.”
“Yeah. That, too.” Donnie set his jaw, obviously agitated. “My point is—”
“My point is you’ve always blamed Dad. And I think it takes two people to divorce.”
“I’m not going to let Mom take any of the blame.”
Even though she’s not exactly blameless in all this, either? Cara decided it was best to instead point out, “Donnie, it’s Christmas. Or it will be in a couple of weeks. Let’s not ruin the spirit of the holiday with bad feelings over the past. That means I’d like you to treat Daddy like a welcomed guest in this house. Do that for me. Please.”
Her brother made a grumbling sound but said nothing. Finally, he acquiesced with a reluctant nod.
“Good,” Cara said. “Tell you what. You put on that radio station that’s playing all the Christmas music and I’ll get dinner started.”
Her cell phone rang. She had to dig through the clutter of mail, a potpourri of groceries that had yet to be stocked away, and other items on the table to find it. At first, she fretted that it was Dad, calling to tell her that Donnie was right, that he’d decided not to make the trip from Norfolk down to Tennessee. Seeing her mother’s number on the screen calmed those fears.
“Hey, Cara! Your dad get there yet?” Mom asked right off the bat.
“Not yet. He called earlier and said he was on the way, so I don’t think he’ll be that long.”
“I don’t think so, either. But just keep in mind that he’s never been down here before. Knowing your dad, he might be stopping off here and there to take pictures.” She heard her mother sigh on the other line. “I take it you’re fixing him a dinner fit for a king.”
“Trying to. Sadly, I’m not you in the kitchen, that’s for sure.” Cara hesitated. “You sure you don’t want to come for dinner, Mom?”
“Hmmm, no. Not tonight. Maybe some other time, honey.”
Not a good idea with your new husband. Cara kept those words to herself. Gently, she assured her, “There’ll be plenty in case you change your mind.”
“Thank you, sweetie. There’ll be another time. As for tonight, I know your dinner will be fabulous!”
“Ha! I don’t know about that.”
“Even if it’s not, your father will love whatever you put in front of him. Let me know when he gets there, okay? Just want to make sure he gets there safely.”
“I will. Love you, Mom.”
“Love you, too. ’Bye.”
Julianne O’Neal—actually, her mother was Julianne Brittain now—was still in love with her ex-husband. Cara knew that; she suspected Donny knew it, too. Heck, everybody who knew her mom probably knew it.
And that included her stepfather, Dennis Brittain. Hence her mother’s unspoken decision, out of respect to her second husband, not to get too close to Dan O’Neal, her first husband and the father of her children.
Nothing would ever come of it. Cara was in college now, not a little kid anymore. Mom and Dad still called her and Donnie “the kids,” but they were both in their early twenties. She’d given up on her parents ever getting back together again. She did, however, want to see them happy.
Mostly, too, she wanted to make up for lost time. When it came to her relationship with her father, she was determined to make things better than ever. She wanted the same for her brother, despite his lingering anger toward their father.
Donnie reappeared in the doorway. “He’s here.”
“He is? How do you know?”
“Just saw him drive up through the window. Unless that’s somebody else’s SUV. What’s Dad driving?”
“Well…” Was she supposed to have asked that?
Cara followed her brother out onto the porch. That winter chill in the air that had been getting stronger since November carried with it that wonderfully fresh, crisp air from the Great Smokey Mountains. She smiled when she saw her father, amused by how well Mom knew him. Hanging from his shoulders was a strap attached to an expensive camera. So that was his delay in getting there.
And, even now that she wasn’t a little girl anymore, seeing her father again still had that same effect on her. Her heart burst with excitement and she gave a little squeal as her sneakers crunched over a carpet of week-old snow to reach him. She also noticed her throat tighten with emotion, because almost four years had passed since she’d last seen him and she missed him. She’d missed him so, so much, as fiercely as when she was a child.
Dan O’Neal hugged her tightly and lifted her off her feet for a moment. He could still do that, so maybe he wasn’t doing too badly for an old guy of forty-nine. Of course, Cara had always been a little thing. She couldn’t have weighed more than a hundred and ten or so. In that regard, she took at her mom; Donnie was tall and muscular, taking after his dad.
In more than one way, he thought ruefully.
“Mom said you’d be taking pictures all the way here,” Cara teased.
“Oh, now, see how rumors get started? I wasn’t taking pictures all the way here. Just…most of the way here.” Dan smirked. “With these mountains around, I guess I should keep my camera’s battery charged up.”
He gave her an affectionate squeeze, content in having made his daughter laugh. One glance at her brother told him he hadn’t been as successful with Donnie.
“Hey, son,” he greeted him.
“Hey, Dad.” Donnie came forward, his stance rigid. He offered his hand to shake. “Glad to have you.”
“Thanks. And I’m glad to be here. I promise to be a good roommate, not to play my music too loud or have too many rowdy parties.”
Again, Cara laughed, adding, “Daddy, you’re still crazy!” To his surprise, he caught Donnie reluctantly crack a smile. It had disappointed him that his son’s son greeting hadn’t been as sincere, with a warm embrace.
But in fairness, Dan O’Neal knew he had disappointed both Donnie and Cara enough times throughout their childhood. Still, Donnie was respectful enough to take his father’s suitcase out of his hand and carry it into the house for him.
“This is a nice place you guys got here,” he remarked in the foyer.
“It’s a good price, too,” Cara said. “I think you’ll be like it here, Daddy. Later, if you’re up to it, we’ll go explore your new home. Take a ride to see Pigeon Forge and Gatlinburg.”
“Cool! And before I left Norfolk, I read something online about a place called Charlie’s Bunion?”
Cara was at the counter, preparing to chop up some vegetables for a salad. “That’s an eight-mile hike. You up to that?”
“Up to it? Let’s see if you kids can keep up with me when it comes to hiking,” he issued the challenge playfully.
The smile she flashed him was worth the long drive there. But what was that someone had told him once? Your daughter will always be your daughter. Her unspoken love, conveyed through that smile, let him know that he was pardoned for the fact that he’d never gone hiking with her before.
“I would really like that, Dad,” she told him. “I have to work this weekend. Besides which, we should probably wait till the spring, when it’s warmer up there in the mountains.”
“I’m with you on that. And I’m here to stay, so you give the word, come spring and I’ll have my hiking boots on. Donnie, you’ll be coming with us, right?”
He walked into the living room to find his son appearing frustrated, holding a tangled string of Christmas tree lights in his hands. The living room was in disarray with the pleasant clutter of the holiday: boxes of ornaments on every inch of couch and loveseat…holiday CDs spread out on the coffee table…a tree blanket crumbled up near the TV set, which was turned off. The kids had selected a beauty of a Douglas fir, standing bare and waiting for its decorations in the corner beside the glass doors that led out to the deck and backyard.
“I’m really great at this stringing-up-the-lights business,” Donnie muttered.
“Don’t do that right now,” Cara called from the kitchen. “Show Dad to his room.”
“That’s a good idea,” Dan agreed. “And you should wait for me. I’ll give you a hand with that. We’ll go insane together. It’ll be like old times.”
That time, Donnie couldn’t hold back a chuckle. He was only too happy to surrender the task, needing no further prompting to drop the lights and head back to the foyer for his father’s suitcase. Dan followed him up the steps.
“This is cleaned up now, thank God,” Donnie said as he pushed the bedroom door open. “Cara was sharing the place with two other roommates, but she made the mistake of finding them on the Internet. You know how that goes.”
“That could be dangerous, too.”
“Yeah, but in this case the danger was avoided. One girl left after a month and went back to her psycho boyfriend, the other girl was a psycho. I moved in because I was in between jobs and couldn’t hold onto my apartment. I got another job now.” Donnie folded his arms across his chest. “What do you think? Not bad, right?”
Bad? The previous occupants may have been a girl who was a nut and another one who had a nut for a boyfriend, but one thing was certain: They were both girly-girls. The walls were thankfully white, but much of the décor, including the bedspread, which on top of everything had a Hello Kitty pattern, was pink. But if it meant mending his relationship with his kids….