SERIOUSLY SERENDIPITY
Kelley Hunter
Published by Some Fluffy Books at Smashwords
Copyright 2011 Kelley Hunter
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Also by Kelley Hunter:
For adults-
SIMPLY SERENDIPITY: THE SWEET BEGINNINGS
SO SERENDIPITY: THE SHORT STORY
FAITH, HOPE & CHOCOLATE CHIP CANNOLI: THE CHRISTMAS BLOG STORIES
For tweens and teens and lil terrors-
TIPPING THE SCALE OF SUCKOCITY
TROLL-A-RAMA
Coming Soon-
SO SERENDIPITY
SORT OF SERENDIPITY
EVERYTHING SHE DIDN’T KNOW: A MEMOIR
What reviewers and readers are saying about Kelley Hunter’s books:
“Hilarious!”
“There's lots of slapstick, lots of snark, and lots of funny.”
“It made me laugh.”
“I caught myself giggling quite a few times.”
“Quite an enjoyable read…
“…it's really funny. Like, REALLY funny. And the further in you get...hilarious. But what was unexpected was how sweet it was, especially when it comes to the other characters, and how it's really all about family.”
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Dear Reader,
If you’ve purchased this book, I thank you. All proceeds my books earn are donated to charity, and now you’ve helped me make a difference for some wonderful organizations. So I truly appreciate your support.
If you’ve borrowed this book, I thank you for reading as well. A story is nothing but sorry little words on a page unless it’s allowed to come to life by being shared and read. I love that you’ve let mine come to life.
I’ve included a small, and sweet, taste of the SO SERENDIPITY novel about Siri and Nick that will be available in 2012. You’ll be able to check it out in full then. So make sure to keep scrolling.
And please, if you do enjoy this book, or any book, it’s so wonderful to let others know. Spread the word, leave reviews, drop that author a note. Books. Writers. We are nothing without you, the reader. So I do. I thank you.
My best,
Kelley Hunter
A special thank you to my agent, who believed in this book until even I thought he was insane, and my long-suffering editor. Natalie, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you. Xoxo
For my husband,
I love you for being everything I could ever want and all I could ever need, all wrapped up in one beautiful person…
SERIOUSLY SERENDIPITY
Kelley Hunter
CHAPTER ONE
Camille makes an imperative wish and a most solemn vow, but not before contemplating kicking some elf’s butt.
December 13th
The elf got lippy and nearly ruined everything, which wasn’t the plan at all. Camille’s plan had been so simple, too. Sneak into the mall, plead her case to Santa, and haul it to Ella’s party—that’s all the Universe had to let her do. But of course, per her usual luck, it chose to mess with her and all hell broke loose instead.
No sooner had Camille stepped out of the taxi then the cabbie refused to give back her last ten dollars in change. (She didn’t care what he said. It wasn’t her. She didn’t sharpie “I’m an old fart who smells like cheese” on the back of his seat, even though she could completely sympathize with someone who would.)
She then stepped into the mall only to find a line jam-packed with shoppers who wouldn’t know what a bottle of deodorant was if it smacked them upside the head, repeatedly, and that she’d have to endure waiting in this line listening to bad Muzak interpretations of Christmas carols for oh, forever. And if all that wasn’t bad enough, there was the mortification of some child mistaking her for Kleenex and coughing the most disgusting mucousy stuff all over her coat.
Her new coat.
Her only coat.
Still, a plan was a plan, and Camille had stuck to her plan since leaving her apartment that morning. But then the Universe had gotten really nasty and sent the elf to mess up her plan.
“Piss off,” the elf said, just because she wouldn’t get out of the line leading to the North Pole. So Camille discreetly flipped her off under her jacket and just prayed none of the kids saw, which definitely wasn’t the plan either but certainly seemed appropriate at the time.
The bottle blonde elf in too tight spandex glared at her in return. Granted, it fell sort of flat given the scary-long felt hat perched on her head. Her every movement sent the bell on its tip flying through the air. Her every other movement threatened to dislodge her substantial cleavage, which was already straining at the flimsy fabric. Her nametag had “Jessica” scribbled across it in purple crayon. But there was genius for you, because underneath it said “manger-in-training.”
“Ha-ha, nut job.” The elf leaned forward, and lowering her voice, said, “How about you just keep your fat butt out of line? Huh? How about that?” Her breath actually smelled of stale candy canes.
“Or, you could just watch as I take my butt back over to the line and rat yours out to Santa?” Camille asked. And to be honest, it sounded like a really good plan to her too.
“What is your problem?” Jessica shook in agitation just like one of those small yappy dogs and sent the jingle bell on the tip of her elf hat jangling furiously. It whipped through the air and smacked her on the forehead. “This line is for kids!”
She was wrong, of course. Technically, it wasn’t. But if there is one thing Camille had learned during her twenty-two years on this planet, it was that it was impossible trying to argue with some people-and she was pretty sure that included fashion-challenged people sporting elf costumes and bad attitudes that were named Jessica. So she turned and dropped back into the snaking line of waiting children instead, cutting in front of a little girl with carrot-colored pigtails.
“Thanks for holding my spot.”
The child eyed the elf warily. “No problem, I think.”
“Foul-tempered creatures, aren’t they?” she asked.
“Oh, yeah. And did you see her nametag? I mean, I’m only six and even I can spell manager. How dumb is that?”
“That’s it!” The spandexed elf stormed over and grabbed her sleeve. Her acrylic-tipped fingers bored right into Camille’s one and only coat. “You are so out of here. No one calls me dumb! Get out of line now.”
She couldn’t believe it. Camille wasn’t even the one who’d called her dumb and now the elf was molesting her.
“Take your hands off me, you freak. I’m not going anywhere.” Camille shoved her hand away. “I can’t believe this. I’ve been assailed by an elf.”
“You need to leave.”
Camille pointed at the wooden North Pole sign burrowed in mounds of fake snow. “You’ve got two seconds to show me where it says that. There’s no height requirement, no fine print that I.D. is required.” She knew, too, because she’d checked. Just to be safe. “Nowhere does it say this line is just for kids.”
“But you’re a grown woman,” the elf said. “Why the hell do you want to see Santa?”
The kids in line gasped and parents’ heads shot up. The little girl in pigtails pointed at the elf. “You said a bad word. I’m telling Santa.”
The elf shook her head, sending the jingle bell flying. It thwacked her on the nose. “No, I didn’t, and no, you’re not.”
The kids nodded their heads. “Yes, you did,” they chorused.
“You did,” the girl said. “A really bad word too. And everyone knows elves aren’t supposed to swear.”
Camille had to agree. It was shocking, really, such a potty-mouthed manger-in-training. “You did. We all heard you.”
“You stink too.” The little girl scrunched her face in disgust. “You smell like the candy cane air freshener in my dad’s car. Yuck.”
The elf’s face flushed a deep red that matched her hat so perfectly Camille couldn’t help but be impressed, even as upset as she was. Who would have thought it was even possible to turn such a spectacular shade of burgundy?
“That’s it. Get out of line,” she said. “Now!”
She was mistaken, though. There would be no now for Camille, thank you. Not after she'd spent almost two hours waiting in a line packed with kids and gawking parents. Not after the elf had called her butt fat and manhandled her coat. And not after she’d been humiliated and shamed for no good reason. Oh, no. She wasn’t going anywhere after all she’d been through.
Camille did, however, say, “You’re the one who singled me out for doing nothing wrong. So I’m waiting in line to see Santa, and there’s no law that says I can’t.”
The kids nodded more feverishly. A few parents stepped forward. A few more covered their children’s ears and looked ready to call the authorities.
“Now do us all a favor and go take your scrawny elf-butt back to the North Pole,” she finished.
The children broke out in laughter and cheered. The elf’s face went from that deep red to a Concord grape purple that Camille had to admit was equally impressive.
“Fine.” She huffed. “But I’ll get you for this. Just you wait and see.” She swiveled on her bell-tipped booties and flounced away through the crowd.
Relief flooded through Camille as the woman disappeared, and tears sprang to her eyes. The Universe may have tried hard to stomp on her plan, and it may have thrown obstacles of snot and elves in her way, but she’d done it. Camille had actually done it. She’d gotten her way and was going to see Santa. And to be honest, she really needed to talk to the Big Guy. It was imperative.
She peered down at the children huddled around her and felt a tear slip free. “Thanks for backing me up, guys.” She wiped at her eyes. “She was one vicious elf.”
A small tow-headed boy in a cowboy hat winked up at her.
“That was great.” He snorted. “Get your elf-butt back to the North Pole. You got guts, lady. Santa’s not going to be happy.”
***
The boy had been right; Santa wasn’t at all happy, and he was almost as confused as the elf had been.
“You’re here to see me, why?” he asked, peering out from behind black wire spectacles perched on his nose. He sat, tucked inside the North Pole, his hands clamped over the arms of his golden throne. A fuzzy, red hat topped his head, gray curls peeking out from under, and his brown eyes crinkled around the corners. He looked exactly like Camille remembered from her childhood. Well, except for that quizzical frown on his face. Behind him stood his helper, another identically suspicious elf, right up to the jingly bell at the tip of her red felt hat. Camille ignored her, though. It was Santa she’d come to see.
“Good question,” she said. “But if you’d just let me explain…”
“I will. But, why? Why is a grown woman here to see Santa?” he asked again.
“It’s because I have nowhere else to turn. You’ve always come through for me before. And, well . . .”
Santa looked at her expectantly. “Well?”
“All right, fine,” she said, feeling a little sheepish. She dug through her coat pocket and pulled out the crumpled note. She didn’t even need to look at it; she knew each line by heart.
He read it, paused, and then asked, “You did all this for a child?”
She couldn’t lie to Santa, of all people. “Well, my best friend Siri also dared me. She actually bet me twenty dollars I wouldn’t come. But don’t worry, I was still going to do it—visit you. I promised the little girl. Though, after that that cab ride here, I could really use the money.”
Santa turned to his helper, who shrugged.
“There’s nothing in the policies preventing it,” the elf said. “I wouldn’t say it’s normal, though.”
“Oh, please.” Someone really needed to sit and have a little chat with his employees. Like a grown person dressing in a spandex costume was so normal?
Santa ran his gloved hand down his snowy beard as he considered her request. “Well, I guess it would be okay. I don’t know if I’d go so far to say it’s abnormal. Though, I will say it’s a mite unusual.”
That was good. Very good. If there was one thing she was okay with, it was being considered unusual. Heck, she’d been called way worse before. And Camille wasn’t stupid; she knew a grown woman coming to see Santa was unusual. But she was desperate for that little girl, and really, somewhere deep inside maybe Camille still wanted to believe too. In Santa, in magic, in wishes coming true. So in a weird, warped way it had made sense, coming here. To her.
“I knew you’d see things my way. Thanks.”
She walked over and waited in front of Santa. He stared up at her.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Waiting. It won’t work unless I sit on your lap and tell you. You know that.”
Before he could answer, Camille plunked herself down. He grunted and let out the most horrific groan. How mortifying. She’d crushed Santa. “Sorry. I was really hoping I wouldn’t be too heavy. I’ve been upset, you know? So I resorted to chocolate.”
Santa nodded and shifted in the chair. “It’s fine, fine. I’ll be fine.” His voice was coming out a little squeakily, though. Probably not a good sign. “Perhaps we should speed this up a little,” he squeaked again.
“I know, I’m sorry,” she said, blushing. “But I wouldn’t have come if this wasn’t important.”
Santa’s expression softened beneath his beard. “So I’m guessing you want me to convince this little girl I still exist as her note clearly states she believes I do not. What’s the other problem?”
She paused. This was never easy for her, asking for help. “It’s my heart,” she finally admitted.
Santa gasped.
“No! Oh, no. Sorry. I meant my heart, as in love. What I want is the perfect someone to love. For myself and for my grandmother.”
“Don’t scare an old man like that. I’m not sure my own ticker can take it.” Santa’s bushy eyebrows knit together in concern. “But may I say, I can’t quite see how a woman who’ll tussle with my elves for cash has trouble finding someone to love?”
“You may say. It’s just,” Camille sighed, “I’m not very good at it, that whole picking out the right guy thing. My life’s a disaster, you know?”
“No, I can’t say I do.”
“All right, bear with me.” She took a deep breath. “But, my last boyfriend, you know, Jeremy? He’s the perfect example. I thought he was The One, and wham, he squashed my heart.”
It had been humiliating, too, how he’d told her he was leaving. Jeremy had just climbed out of bed and walked away. But the worst part? He’d left her in the dark alone, something that he knew scared her. For hours, she’d lain there and sobbed until dawn had crept into her room. Truthfully, though, Camille had cried not so much because he’d left her, but more because now she’d never have the chance to suffocate him with her pillow. The thought still filled her with regret.
“So this Jeremy broke your heart?”
“See? You understand. It’s not my fault. I just have judgment issues when it comes to men.” She frowned. “That spineless jerk better be on the naughty list this year, by the way.”
Santa sighed, a long and squeaky sigh. “I do understand, and I have no doubt he’s been penned in if what you say is true. But, I’m confused. What is it exactly that you want?”
“Maybe you could bring me someone, a special someone?” She paused, searching for the right words, because as Siri always said, specificity was a girl’s best friend. It was the only way to get exactly what you wanted. So she said, “Someone maybe, who, okay, was cute like Jeremy. But one who was, well, nice, you know? With someone like that, all my problems would be solved.”
This was a lie, of course. Having a boyfriend wasn’t a solution at all. It was, however, an excellent avoidance tactic. It kept Camille from having to deal with her life, herself. And maybe that was shameful. Maybe it was even pathetic. For sure, though, it was desperate, and Camille just didn’t like thinking about that.
“And your grandmother? You have a request for her too?”
That brought a tear to Camille’s eye, thinking about Ella. “She’s just been really lonely. She needs someone beyond perfect.”
“Someone? Beyond perfect?”
“Yeah. But not just anyone. It has to be the right someone to put that sparkle back in her eye, you know? The day my grandpa died, well, he took that with him.”
Santa sighed more deeply and squeakily. “I can’t do that, and you know I can’t. Nor should I. But I can help, I think.”
Her heart pounded with excitement, practically cracking her ribs. That was exactly what she wanted to hear, the whole reason she’d come. “You can?”
“Actually, I think maybe you should help yourself, Camille, because all I can offer is advice.”
That was exactly what she didn’t want to hear. “Are you sure that’s the best you can do?”
Santa’s helper caught her eye, jumping up and down wildly and waving her spindly arms in the air. She was signaling about the time, clearly annoyed. Camille checked over her shoulder. The children in line were getting restless. They’d been on her side earlier, but kids, when they turned, they could get vicious. Maybe the elf had a point. It was time to wrap things up.
“Do you really think there’s something you can do?”
He chuckled. “Now, don’t go getting all excited. I said you needed to do it. The laws of magic forbid me from intervening.”
The laws of magic? Was he serious?
“That and I’m just an old man who works in a mall. But I do know if you tackle that disaster of a life you claim to have and just believe a little in yourself, well, things have a way of happening. Your grandmother is a grown woman, too, who’ll do just fine on her own.”
He slapped her knee, making her flinch. “And you know, if you’re lucky you’ll stumble into a little serendipity, because I think you might be looking for the wrong thing.” He shoved her off his lap. “Now, get up. I’m not sure I can feel my legs anymore.”
“I swear, I’ll work on that whole resorting thing.”
“Go, Camille, go.” Santa waved her off. “It’s Christmas Eve. Go find your Mr. Perfect and have someone bring that little girl by. I’ll see what we can do about her believing. And meanwhile, you try to work on that whole naughty thing, okay?”
She leaned down and kissed the old man softly on his cheek. His bristly whiskers tickled her skin, and up close, he smelled exactly like gingerbread. How did he do that?
“Thank you,” she said, pulling away.
Santa’s helper tugged on her sleeve, interrupting, and pointed toward the exit. “You need to leave now,” she ordered.
Camille checked the kids again. They’d moved beyond restless and were clearly contemplating committing mutiny. The elf definitely had a point.
“Fine,” she said. “I’m going.” She gave a final wave and turned, heading for the way out.
“Just believe,” Santa called after her. “Believe in yourself, and there he’ll be. And you come again next year and let me know how you are, okay?”
“I promise,” she shouted back. “And I promise to do everything you said.” That naughty thing was going to prove a bit challenging, though.
As she walked past them, Camille waved goodbye to her new friends, especially the pigtailed girl and the boy in the cowboy hat. “Be good and watch out for those elves,” she warned.
Then she shoved her way into the herds of shoppers and wove through them to the exit. With one last look over her shoulder, she walked out of the North Pole and back into the store. The heat and chaos of the crowd overwhelmed her, and Camille took a step back and sighed. The New Hampshire Mall was Hell disguised as box stores, especially during the Christmas season. It was time to go.
She tucked her chin, gripped her pocket book close, and set off into the crowd migrating to the front door. At the exit she reached out to grab the metal door handle when a shopper shoved his elbow into her ribs. Camille gasped in pain and turned away when another shopper knocked her from behind, sending her flying into the glass door, nose first. She felt a crack, a sickening snap, and fierce heat. Her hands flew to her face, and when she pulled them away scarlet blood covered them. She couldn’t believe this was happening to her. Not here, not now, no way.
“You broke my nose!” Camille spun around to whoever had thrown her into the glass. “You actually broke my nose!”
A man looked back at her, wide-eyed and clearly on the cusp of freaking out himself. “It wasn’t me, I swear. You stopped and someone pushed me into you.”
He looked down, patted his coat pockets, and pulled out a pack of tissues. He shoved them into her hand. “Here, use these.”
Then he grabbed her much abused jacket sleeve and dragged her through the door, outside into the bitter cold morning and away from the crowd. The frigid air bit into her lungs, making her gasp. She wanted to cry.
“I’m so sorry.” He studied her face. “Are you okay? Should you go the emergency room? You know, you shouldn’t have been in the way like that. If you’d kept going, this would never have happened.”
“Are you saying this was my fault?” Camille’s face throbbed, and she winced from the pain. She tried to blink back the tears. “Why? Just tell me why? I mean, what kind of crazy person gets their nose broken on Christmas Eve?”
He startled, and then laughed. Though his reaction seemed a little odd, at least he didn’t look so freaked out anymore. “Well, you actually. You’re the crazy person. Or at least, I think so. It seems broken.”
His words shocked her, mostly because they had the ring of truth to them, and Camille burst out in laughter as well. “I’m sorry. You’re right, I’m being a jerk too,” she blurted out before she could stop herself.
“Too? Well, maybe I deserve that,” he said. “You’ve every right to be upset. Who wants to end up in an emergency room on Christmas Eve?”
These words took her by surprise, too. They were actually kind of nice, certainly not the sort of words one would usually hear from jerks, and to be honest, he didn’t really look like a jerk. Sure, he was short, or at least shorter than Jeremy had been. But somehow, it was good.
His eyes were brown and kind, and they crinkled a bit around the edges, just like Santa’s had. His hair was also doing a sort of loopy-dipping-porcupine thing that all together was kind of cute. And in a vague way, he looked familiar.
“Do I know you?” she asked
He held out his hand. “It’s Alex, Alex Lockwood, and no, I just moved here so I don’t think so. It’s weird, though, because I really got the feeling I knew you from somewhere too.”
Her hand disappeared into his, and her first thought was how warm and strong and surprisingly soft it was. How it seemed to be the kind of hand that would be good to hold. But then the thought made her a little too warm in a little too pleasant of a way in a really inappropriate place for someone she’d just met, so she dropped it. Fast.
“Hi, I’m Camille, and I should probably get to an E.R.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Camille who should probably get to an E.R.” He looked around, searching. “Do you have bags or anything? A car?”
“No, no bags.” She ignored the car thing. No way did she want to go into that. “I was just inside talking to Santa.”
“Santa? I know him,” Alex said. “He and I are tight.”
“You are?” But then her train of thought went poof, just like that. As Alex reached forward to call a taxi, his down jacket slid open, revealing his T-shirt. It was black with a large red heart across the front and the words “Mr. Perfect” underneath.
Her jaw dropped, and she pointed to his chest. “Where did you get that shirt?”
Alex looked down at himself. “This? It was a joke from my cousin. He likes to tease me. He says maybe this year Santa will give me away to someone and he’ll be rid of me.”
Camille stood, speechless, while a green-checkered cab pulled up and Alex opened its door.
“Your sleigh awaits,” he said with a bow.
She stared at Alex, then at the brick facade of the department store. This had to be a joke. This couldn’t really be happening, could it? The guy in the red suit wasn’t even the real Santa, just some hired mall lackey. But then Santa’s words came to her: just believe.
Well, crap.
“Alex,” she said. “Will you come with me?” She paused and felt herself blush to a degree that would have put the elf to shame. “I’m sorry. What am I thinking? You’re probably a serial killer, and it’s Christmas Eve and I’m sure you have plans.”
Alex frowned. “No, actually. No plans at all, especially about killing anyone. I’m not sure I could fit another single body inside my freezer if I tried.” He paused. “Besides, I’d never let you go alone.”
Fractured nose or not, she broke out in a grin. He actually had a sense of humor, and a good one at that. “Thank you. I bet you wouldn’t.”
“Hey, it’s not every day I break someone’s nose. Now please, get in. It’s freezing out here.”
While Alex propped the cab’s door open, Camille held the tissue to her nose and cautiously slid into the cab, careful not to bleed on anything. Then he climbed in beside her and spoke brusquely to the cabbie.
She studied his profile as he gave directions, and decided she kind of liked it, that commanding thing he had going on. Still, he wasn’t exactly her usual type. And the pants could go. It was completely shallow of her, but she had no idea what he’d been thinking wearing chinos and those loafers, and Camille was definitely hoping those were not black dress socks on his feet. But okay, he was still pretty scrumptious.
Though, she couldn’t believe this. She was stunned, really. It had actually happened. Santa had sent the perfect guy. Because obviously, Alex had to be that perfect guy: the shirt, the heart, the sense of humor. He’d even offered to take her to the hospital. He was commanding and chivalrous.
Perfect.
While the cab sailed through the snowy streets toward the highway, her head swam. The pitiful truth was Camille just wasn’t the kind of person good stuff happened to, certainly never perfect stuff. But maybe, this one time, she should believe it was her turn at last. Like Santa had said.
That’s why she’d gone to him after all, because in that odd way she’d wanted to believe. So maybe, just this once, she should. What did she really have to lose? And she only had everything to gain.
Her mind made up, Camille sunk back against the cab’s cracked vinyl seat and let her hopes soar, smiling through the pain.
CHAPTER TWO
Despite her nose leaking blood like a drippy faucet, Camille kept smiling through the pain and congratulating herself on her perfect good luck. Not once did it falter, her smile, not when the cabbie refused to drop them off in front of the hospital, and not when they had to trudge through slushy snow piles to the E.R.’s entrance.
It didn’t waver a smidge as Alex gave her name to a harried volunteer, who’d shoved a clipboard into his hand. And it never, ever budged through the hellish wait as yet another snot-filled toddler sneezed all over her again, and again.
Oh, no.
No matter how hard Camille tried to stop, she grinned like a beauty pageant contestant with Vaseline smeared across her teeth. At least she did until a pale-faced nurse called her name and asked them to follow. That was when the smirk finally slid right off her face.
Because there, only feet from the exam room, her body broke out in a cold sweat. Her heart thundered. A searing heat flashed through her and her skin prickled rebelliously. Her footsteps grew heavier, and then heavier, until finally, to the nurse’s confusion, Camille stood, frozen and definitely unsmiling, smack in the middle of the hospital’s emergency room.
“Is something wrong?” the nurse asked.
Camille gulped. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this.”
“What shouldn’t we do?”
Alex, who’d been too intent on the clipboard, looked up, startled. He screeched to a halt, his loafers skidding on the tiles, and nearly slammed into her.
“What’s going on?” he asked. “Why are you stopping?”
The nurse looked at Camille curiously, as if she’d grown two heads and turned magenta sort of curiously, and tugged back the green curtain blocking the exam room. “Hello? What shouldn’t we do?”
Camille willed herself to disappear as E.R. staff swirled around them. It didn’t work, though. Instead, the nurse and Alex stared at her, waiting for an explanation. But really, what could she say? Without sounding like an idiot? Because the truth was idiotic. She couldn’t do this; she shouldn’t do this. And that was just dumb.
“This, coming to the emergency room. Maybe we shouldn’t.”
Alex’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you serious? Your nose is fractured.” He gestured to her coat. “In case you haven’t noticed, you’ve lost a lot of blood. You really should see a doctor.”
Camille stared down at her good jacket splattered in mucous and crimson with sinking disappointment. Bad enough the elf had manhandled it and kids had goo’ed on it but now her only coat was ruined. How was she going to replace it?
“It’s just, ah, well—”
“Just, ah, well, what?”
She cleared her throat. “I don’t actually, sort of, really have insurance.”
Alex’s eyebrows just about disappeared into his hairline. “Come again?”
“Not, you know, technically.”
“You must have insurance. Everyone has insurance. Aren’t you in school? Or what about work? Don’t they offer it?”
“Well, I actually might have missed UNH’s application deadline, a couple times. Or four.” No way was Camille explaining to a complete stranger, however perfect he seemed, that she was too scared to apply at her age.“So I’m working at the library until then. They have insurance, but—”
The nurse turned impatiently and waved to the sheet-covered gurney. “Are you coming already?”
She looked from the nurse to Alex and back to the nurse again. How was she supposed to pay for this? But worse, how could she not? Her nose was broken. This wasn’t like a sore throat or something where she could just go home and pop some Advil, especially with Ella’s party tonight. What was Camille going to do?
“Get on the exam table.” Alex clutched the clipboard to his chest. “And when you go back to work after the holiday, you can sign up for it. This is the perfect example of why you need it, especially if you’re not bothering with an education. It’s all part of growing up, being responsible.”
Bubbles of irritation swirled through her. “Look, I’m fully aware–”
The nurse interrupted. “While this is certainly enthralling, your dysfunction,” she gestured again to the bed, “I’ll have to interrupt your lover’s spat. You need to come in and sit.”
Alex’s face flamed red. Camille was pretty sure hers was glowing even redder.
“This is not a lover’s spat,” she said.
“Not my problem.” The nurse pointed again to the gurney. “What is my problem is you planting your derriere up on this bed so we can get you seen. Frankly, I don’t have time for your little drama.”
“Very charming,” she said. “Seriously. But now that I’ve thought about it, I don’t have time for this, either. I’m supposed to be at my Grandma Ella’s Christmas party by six so I have to go.”
Camille spun, hell-bent on escape, but Alex grabbed her arm, stopping her. “Oh, no. Get back here. Go sit, okay? You really do need to be seen, and look, I’ll even help pay. It’s half my fault, right?” He paused. “Just go. Please.”
She debated. Maybe, if he paid half, she could swing it. Doubtful, but maybe. Still, how embarrassing was that, taking money from Mr. Perfect?
“Please,” he said again.
“How about before I’m old and gray too,” the nurse added, tapping her foot.
Camille glared at her. “You wouldn’t happen to be related to any elves, would you? Because that tendency toward nastiness is giving you away.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed. “I have syringes. You sure you want to play this way?”
Camille glared at her harder, made up her mind, and then stomped over to the gurney. She climbed up on it. “Fine. But I’m not going to enjoy this.”
“I shudder at the thought,” the nurse said.
Alex sunk into the plastic chair across from Camille, expelling a sigh of what she could only imagine was relief. He balanced the clipboard on his knee and began to scribble on it again. Then he looked up.
“Are you on any medications?”
She felt her face grow prickly and flushed. “Why?”
“The paperwork. So, are you on any?”
This wasn’t happening, no. “Yes.”
Alex frowned. “Can you be more specific?”
“No.”
“I’m confused. So you aren’t on any medication?”
“No.”
Now he just looked exasperated. “We need to fill this out.”
“You need to answer,” the nurse said.
Oh, for crap’s sake. Could her life get any worse? “Birth control pills. Okay? Not that I’ve particularly needed them. Happy now?”
The nurse snorted and Alex blushed. He looked back down at the sheet. “We’ll just skip that one.”
“Yes. Let’s just.”
The nurse wrapped the blood pressure cuff around her arm, pulling it too tight. Camille spun on her.
“Ah, ow.”
The nurse ignored her and began squeezing its pump a little too joyfully.
“I need your license number,” Alex interrupted.
“In my wallet, you’ll have to dig it out of my pocketbook.”
Alex plopped her knock-off Coach bag on his lap. No sooner had he reached in than a million little scraps of paper, an empty tube of lip-gloss, and her prepaid cell phone tumbled to the floor.
She flinched. “Sorry. I’m a squidge disorganized.”
The nurse snorted again, and in a flurry of Velcro yanked the blood pressure cuff free. “A squidge, my butt.”
Camille rubbed at her stinging arm and ignored her.
Alex grabbed her things off the floor, started to stuff them back into the purse, and then paused, his gaze caught by one of the sheets of paper.
Her heart sank. Oh, no. Please don’t let that be her bank slip.
“Is this your bank slip?”
She bit her lip. “It depends on what it says,” she finally answered.
He held it up. “It says you have twenty-two dollars in your checking account.”
Damn. “Well, that’s probably mine then, yes.”
The nurse scrawled on her chart, keeping her eyes down and, thankfully, her mouth shut. She was listening, though. Oh boy, was Camille confident she was listening.
“Please tell me this isn’t your only account.”
“It’s not my only account.”
Alex paused. “It is, isn’t it?”
“Sure.”
“Then why did you deny it?”
“You told me to,” Camille said.
He passed the slip over to her, and she crumpled it into a ball and shot it at his head, missing. It instead bounced off his shoulder, skipped across the tile, and rolled under the green curtain, disappearing from sight. Good riddance.
“Then tell me you actually have more than twenty-two dollars in your account.” Alex glared at her. “And mean it.”
She sat up. Now that she could do. “Of course I have more. Or at least I will. I have twenty dollars coming to me now, as soon as Siri pays up.”
“Pays up? Is that why you were so worried? About the bill? About how you’ll pay for everything?” Alex paused, studied her swollen nose. “That’s got to hurt.”
She gritted her teeth and wished he’d stop. She didn’t need his pity. Camille was more than capable of providing enough of her own. “It’s fine.”
He dropped her purse back to the ground, and then pulled out his own wallet. It was made out of duct tape.
She froze. “What are you doing?”
“Putting in my credit card information.”
The bubbles of irritation that had been swirling through her veins burst into a flood of full-blown humiliation and anger. “For what?” Her voice rose. “For why?”
His eyes widened in surprise. “For why? For payment, that’s why. Someone needs to pay for this and you obviously can’t.”
Camille cut him off. “Oh, no. Not okay. That is so not okay. As a matter of fact . . .”
Alex stared at her, his hand still wrapped around his unopened wallet. “As a matter of fact, what?”
“As a matter of fact, I’m such an idiot. Here I thought you were perfect, thinking all smiley-smiley porcupine scrumptious things in the cab. Oh, yeah, there I was, just smiling away.”
Alex’s eyes grew even wider. “What?”
She slapped herself in the forehead. “I’m such a fool!”
And she couldn’t believe what a fool she’d really been. Here it was, little more than an hour after meeting Alex, and she was sitting in an E.R. examining room, infuriated. Like it wasn’t bad enough she’d broken her nose or had her pride squashed flatter than her heart had been, now Camille was being forced to admit she was all wrong. Alex? Perfect? What an idiot she was.
“I can’t believe I ever thought Santa sent you to me,” she said. “You’re not perfect. You’re not even close to perfect. And you’re an even bigger jerk than Jeremy. At least he had a real wallet.”
“Who’s Jeremy?”
“A jerk. Just like you.”
Alex’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure why asking about your health insurance or offering to pay is considered jerk-like behavior.”
The nurse hovered in the corner, still listening. It pissed Camille off further.
She dropped her hands to her hips, her arm throbbing where the cuff had been. “Give me a break. Ask? You didn’t ask! And you said it was irresponsible not to have health insurance.”
“Well, it sort of is.”
“I am not irresponsible. I just keep forgetting.” But then she paused and caught herself, because that wasn’t entirely truthful, was it? And while Camille couldn’t help acting like an ass sometimes, she liked to pride herself on never being a liar.
“All right, fine. Maybe I keep conveniently forgetting because it’s so damn expensive, and fine, maybe I’ve also conveniently forgotten to apply to college because I’m terrified of not being able to cut it, but I’m not guilty of irresponsibly forgetting. There’s a difference.”
“There is?”
“There is. There definitely is.”
“Well, maybe you should tell that to the billing department, and then we can see what they have to definitely say about it.”
“Really? How about this for jerk, then: you didn’t exactly need to yell at me about my bank balance, either.”
“I never yelled! And you’re the one who told me to get your wallet out.” He leaned forward and snatched another deposit slip poking out of Camille’s purse. One for even less money. He waved it at her. “It’s not my fault the bank slip fell out.”
“Or that you read it? Or mocked it?”
“I didn’t mock it.” Alex shoved the slip back into the purse. “But if I had would anyone blame me? Twenty-two dollars in a grown woman’s checking account could certainly be deemed mock-worthy.”
The nurse coughed, her back to them now. Camille ignored her.
“I’ll take care of it, okay? It’s just something I’m not good with, money. Or math.”
“So? Have someone help you. It’s not that hard.”
She gaped at him. Was he serious? Not that hard? All those years her classmates had sniggered and called her stupid? All the times her teachers had thrown up their hands and flunked her? He couldn’t be serious.
“You can’t be serious. It’s not that hard?” And maybe it wasn’t. Maybe not for him. But for her it’d been more than impossible figuring out financial stuff. It had been downright humiliating.
“All you’ve done since we’ve gotten here is lecture me. About my insurance, about my checking account, about not watching where I was going. I can’t get over it. Forget bossy. You are such an insufferable jerk.”
“And you’re being pretty irrational. Lecturing you? Are you serious?” Alex said. “Why are you being so overly sensitive about everything?”
She gasped. “Overly sensitive? Irrational! How dare you! You don’t even know me.”
“Touché.”
“All I need to do is look at those chinos and heinous polyester dress socks you’re wearing and I know all I need to know.”
His eyes grew wide again. “My socks? Are you insulting my socks?”
“You bet your booty.” Camille smiled smugly. “No one, and I mean no one, wears black polyester dress socks. They’re just so wrong, on so many levels. Even I, a woman with only twenty-two dollars in her checking account, know this universal truth.”
Alex’s face flared scarlet. “I’ll tell you what’s wrong: some uninsured, irrational woman trying to tell me what’s wrong.”
She had no right? He had no right. Whoever this Alex person was, he had no right to lecture her and call her irrational and question her judgment in socks. Santa or no Santa, she was done with believing.
“I’ll tell you what.” Camille pointed at the red and white sign over the door. “E-X-I-T spells exit. Go fling yourself out one.”
Alex flew out of the chair and slammed the clipboard down onto the examining bed. He snatched up his coat.
“Fine. Suit yourself.” He nodded toward the paperwork. “My address is on the sheet. Make sure to send me the bill. I’ll still pay half.”
“Over my dead body. I can take care of myself, thank you very much.”
He looked her up and down. “Yeah, and I can see what a good job you’re doing at it.” Then he turned and stormed out through the green curtain.
“Jerk,” she said into the air, her hand going up to her swollen nose. She flinched at the pain.
The nurse stepped around the bed and picked up the clipboard. She studied it.
“Oh, I don’t know. He had a good point. You really do need health insurance.”
“Great. Now you too.”
She shrugged. “Actually, I didn’t think he was a jerk at all. He was pretty cute, if you want to know the truth. Besides,” she gestured for Camille to lie back on the bed, “how many guys would have done what he did? Helping you here, offering to pay? I think he was just worried and overcompensated.”
“I don’t want to hear this.” And she really didn’t, because she knew the nurse was right. Not only was Alex pretty cute but she’d once again gone and totally overreacted. It didn’t take a genius to see she’d behaved horribly and said some ugly things. It was just, well, he’d hit a nerve.
The bastard.
The nurse clucked her tongue.
“You tsked me,” Camille said.
“I did. You got defensive for no good reason. You owe that poor man an apology.”
“No, no way,” she said, defiantly crossing her arms. “There’s no way I’m apologizing to him.”
“Right.” The nurse pulled the sheet of paper off the clipboard and folded it. She tucked it into Camille’s pocketbook, which was sitting on the chair, and winked. “Just in case your change your mind.”
***
Her Grandma Ella shrieked and dropped her favorite cast iron pot to the kitchen floor before rushing to her. She grasped Camille’s face with both hands.
“My baby!”
Camille flinched from the pain. The woman was seriously about to pop her head off.
“Please stop squeezing my face.”
“What happened to you?” Ella turned Camille’s face left, then right, inspecting the tape on her swollen nose. “Who hurt you?”
Camille pulled away and dumped her pocketbook onto the tile counter top. “Some jerk.”
Ella’s face went pasty white.
“Someone assaulted you?”
Camille leaned over and picked up the pot, grimacing at how it had set her face to throbbing again. She placed it on the stove with a sigh.
“Technically, one could argue an elf assaulted me, but that wasn’t how my nose got broken.” She peeled off her coat and plopped into a kitchen chair. “Some guy at the mall took that honor. He ran into me and cracked my nose.”
Ella’s face transformed from white to a beet red that was a little disturbing on someone elderly. It conjured visions of CPR and paramedics in Camille’s head, frightening her.
“Who was it? This elf? Tell me so I can give him a crack.”
Camille held her hand up. The last thing she needed was to instigate a geriatric beatdown. “Calm down, Holyfield. It was an accident. And like I said, it wasn’t the elf.”
“An accident? No elf? I’m confused.”
“Forget the elf, okay? Just forget I ever mentioned it.” Her stomach rumbled at the scent of roasting turkey that hung heavily in the air. “It was just an accident. He was pushed into me and I was pushed into a door. My nose broke the impact. He took me to the E.R. and everything, so no need to go beating the snot out of him.”
Ella sunk into the chair across from her. Camille was relieved to see that under her sparkly holiday make-up job, her skin tone had gone back to its normal shade so she looked like herself once more. Or, well, like the Christmas-ready version of herself.
While Camille had been having her nose broken, Ella had not only changed for the party, she’d gone all out. From the shimmery shirt that was shooting slivers of light around the kitchen to the light-up reindeer earrings dangling from her earlobes, she was twinkling brighter than her Christmas tree. But then that was Ella for you.
“That’s quite the ensemble you’ve got going on there,” Camille teased. “You’re blinding me with your festiveness.”
Ella ignored her. “This guy, the one you called a jerk. I don’t understand, that doesn’t sound so jerky to me.”
Camille picked at the lace tablecloth. Ella had a good point. It hadn’t been jerky, and that was the whole problem. It was also why she felt so bad now.
“He was, trust me. I mean, at first I felt awful. He seemed really upset and nice, and he promised he wasn’t a serial killer.” She blushed at the memory of how she’d been so attracted to him and decided it was wiser to leave that part out. “But then we’re filling out the paperwork and he gets to the part about insurance.”
Ella groaned. “Oh, Camille.”
“What? I will. January is for new enrollments, I promise.”
“A lot of good that does you now.”
Camille shot her a look. They’d been through this a million times already, and even though Ella knew how scared she was about everything, she refused to back down. She just pushed and pushed, freaking Camille out all the more.
“You sound just like Alex. He said the same thing, about me not having insurance. It was just, he was so bossy about it. So I’m responsible and you’re not about it.”
Ella raised an eyebrow. “You’re not, though. You refuse to learn how to manage your finances, never mind letting someone help you.”
Camille flew out of the chair. “Great. Now you too? Alex. The nurse. You. Everyone’s ganging up on me. Haven’t I been humiliated enough?”
A car horn honked, cutting through the air twice. The sound echoed like a shotgun blast through the kitchen, making her wince.
Ella turned her head toward the window and sighed. “It’s those darn new neighbors, making noise at all hours. I just hope they don’t pull this during the party.” Ella patted the table. “Now sit, Camille.”
She hesitated, and then slumped back into her chair. “Um, Grandma? About that—”
“Don’t you dare interrupt me,” Ella said. “Now you owe that young man an apology. Do you have his phone number?”
Her gaze shot to her pocketbook. She was about to risk lying when she saw Ella had caught her glance. Busted.
“I see you do. So apologize. And next time? Watch your tongue.” Ella squeezed her hand. “You’re quick to take offense and quick to speak your mind. And you’re also quick to stick your foot in your mouth. Just like your daddy was.”
Maybe. Camille just wished she’d been quicker about sticking her foot up Alex’s ass. After all, he’d still mocked her. “But Gram, he was a total jerk.”
“Maybe, but maybe you were too. You call him, you hear me?”
“Fine.” Maybe once she was dead and Hell had frozen over.
“In this lifetime, Camille.”
She glared at her. “You’re cold, Ella.”
“That’s Grandma Ella to you. And I know you, girl, like I know the back of my own hand. You’re partially to blame. Now scoot and clean up, you’re a bloody mess. Everyone’s going to be here in just a few minutes.”
Ella sighed and pushed her chair back, the legs scraping against the linoleum floor. She stood, and her shirt glittered like a disco ball.
Camille reached out to stop her. She couldn’t go, not yet. “Wait. There’s just, ah, one little thing.”
Ella’s smile drooped. “What little thing?”
“I’m so sorry, really, but I sort of need cab money. I wouldn’t ask, except the other cabbie wiped me out over the cheesy fart thing.”
“Cheesy fart thing? What are you talking about?” Ella pivoted on the tile floor and stomped over to the window. She pulled back the curtain and peered into the dark night, then gasped. “Are you kidding me? You didn’t!”
Camille hung her head because of course she had. “I didn’t have enough to pay, and I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t walk so far in the snow. Can’t you just help me this one time? I won’t ask again, I promise.”
Ella spun and glowered at her. “And you’re telling me now? We’ve sat here this whole time and the meter’s been running meanwhile?”
“I was going to, but then you told me not to interrupt. And, well, it was just really hard to tell you, okay?”
“Who was it this time? Before the farting cabbie, where did your paycheck go? Orphan children? A homeless vet? Who did you give your money away to before checking if your own bills were taken care of first?”
“The Salvation Army,” Camille whispered.
It sucked having people who knew her so well, especially the bad stuff. Not only couldn’t a girl sneak anything past them, but it felt like she was always letting them down. Always, just by being who she was.
“I was at the grocery store yesterday, and they were there with their bells, looking all cold and shivery, and I know I shouldn’t, but I had to—”
“Enough.” Ella held up her hand, silencing Camille. “You have a huge heart and a huge mouth, but miniscule common sense. Go. Just go clean up, and I’ll take care of it. As usual.”
She sighed and made her way to the front door, muttering the words “typical Camille” under her breath. She didn’t, however, say them quietly enough that Camille didn’t catch, and then flinch, from them.
***
Later that night:
Somewhere, deep in his dream, a phone rang loud and shrill. Alex couldn’t find it, though, couldn’t make it stop ringing. It pierced through the fog of his sleep, crying to him. But then a part of his brain whispered to him: it was real. Someone was calling him in the middle of the night.
Alex flew up in a panic and dived for his cell phone. His heart thundered in his chest. No one but his family had this number. It had to be bad news; only horrible news came in the middle of the night. He grabbed it, flipped the phone open, and pressed the slice of chilled metal against his ear.
“Hello?” But there was nothing.
“Hello?” he asked again. Whoever it was hung up with a loud click.
Alex took a deep breath and willed his heart to slow. He reached for the light and flicked it on. The clock blinked, the numbers 1:23 glowed florescent green. He wiped his eyes and looked again. It was the middle of the night. His fear was quickly smothered by anger. Who would call him in the early hours of Christmas morning?
Alex flipped his phone open again. He pushed the menu button, scrolling through the call log until he found it. One call, a number he didn’t recognize. Should he call it? And then that woman, Camille, flashed into his memory. Had it been her?
But why would she call him in the middle of the night? His heart sped up again. Was she okay? He shook his head. That was crazy. Camille had family, and they’d parted on less than friendly terms. It had to be a wrong number; there was no way she’d call. She’d even promised she wouldn’t. Something about over her dead body.
If only.
He flipped the phone shut and set it back on the table. Alex lay back down but left the light on. Camille. He wasn’t the wrong one here. It had been an accident. A silly and avoidable accident. He still couldn’t understand why she’d stopped like that in the doorway. Had someone really knocked into her?
And, okay, he should have bit his tongue about the insurance. And her checking account. And fine, he probably shouldn’t have harped on her about everything, period. He’d been so worried, though. So concerned. He’d been trying to help.
But look what he got for trying to play the gentleman. She’d called him a jerk. A jerk! She’d told him off and booted him out of the E.R.
Yet.
He’d felt so bad when he’d seen her face, the blood on her hands. And then he’d felt something else when he’d taken in her eyes, her wild curly hair. Her smile. And it’d been a long time since he’d felt anything like that. If ever.
Alex rolled onto his side, chagrined. He needed to stop this, this thinking of her. Camille could be the most beautiful, bewitching woman in the world but she had the maturity of a peanut, and was a shrew to boot. And of course he’d acted like a complete jerk.
Alex closed his eyes and yawned. He was done with letting that woman upset him. As a matter of fact, he refused to give her another minute’s thought. Instead Alex stretched, closed his eyes, and fell into a restless sleep, dreaming about Camille well into Christmas morning.
CHAPTER THREE
Fluffernutter didn’t give a crap about anyone, but he most especially didn’t give a crap about Camille, her ruined holiday, or anything at all for that matter. She awoke only to find her cat tucked inside the fake Christmas tree, giving her the cold shoulder. Undeservedly, in her opinion.
But then from the moment Camille had woken up, things had gone heinously wrong. Twenty-two minutes after six, she’d shot up in bed. Exactly twenty-two minutes too late. The alarm hadn’t gone off, again.
And of course the water heater had decided she wasn’t worthy. Blue and shivering after taking the world’s shortest shower, she’d then spent twenty pointless minutes digging through her closet only to come to the harsh realization she’d worked her way through all her “alternative” clothes. (Camille refused to use the term fat clothes. She was not fat, just alternatively bloated.)
So she’d been forced to wear the polyester drawstring pants she reserved for such emergencies. And now, after all that, Fluffernutter was all cattitude and couldn’t care less if she fell off the face of the planet.
With a loud sigh, she pulled back a plastic branch on the twinkling tree and peered in. “Happy Monday, Fluffer.”
He turned his nose away, pretending she didn’t exist.
She stuck out her tongue at him and said, “Fine. It’s not attractive to act like you have a rod up your ass, though.” She let go and the branch shot back into place.
Fluffer jumped out of the tree and thumped onto the wood floor with a loud grunt. While Camille searched for the shoes she’d kicked off somewhere, he slunk over to the bags she’d dropped on the floor last night, sniffing and pawing at the tissue paper dangling out of them. Camille had finally dragged her presents home, and gift bags from Ella’s always meant something for Fluffer. Even worse, he knew it.