Simple Gifts
A Cornwall Novella 2
by
LB Gregg
An Imprint of
Musa Publishing
Simple Gifts, A Cornwall Novella 2
By LB Gregg
Copyright © LB Gregg, 2011
Smashwords Edition
…
All Rights Reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the publisher.
…
This e-Book is a work of fiction. While references may be made to actual places or events, the names, characters, incidents, and locations within are from the author’s imagination and are not a resemblance to actual living or dead persons, businesses, or events. Any similarity is coincidental.
Musa Publishing
633 Edgewood
Ave
Lancaster, OH 43130
…
Published by Musa Publishing, November 2011
…
This e-Book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. No part of this ebook can be reproduced or sold by any person or business without the express permission of the publisher.
ISBN: 978-1-61937-935-0
Published in the United States of America
Editor: Celina Summers
Cover Design: Kelly Shorten
Interior Book Design: Coreen Montagna
Warning
This e-book contains adult language and scenes. This story is meant only for adults as defined by the laws of the country where you made your purchase. Store your e-books carefully where they cannot be accessed by younger readers.
To Kris.
Chapter One
I fled the Sharpe family’s unbearably merry Christmas with my coat undone and my head bare. A battalion of inflatable snow globes hovered on the front lawn and here on the lakeside of the house, a wicked wind blew shrapnel of ice across the shore. Tiny shards flayed my cheeks, but I still chose frostbite over that stifling scene inside the house. Easily.
From the moment Sunny pried me from her idiotically small car, I knew I shouldn’t have come. We’d pulled into the vast circled drive under a ring of towering oak trees, and I’d gaped at the Sharpe’s stately new second home like the orphan I was. “Isn’t this where they filmed Home Alone?”
"It’s a little much, I know, but my Dad thinks it’s necessary for the election.”
“I can see why.” The brick fortress epitomized Members Only, much as the Senator did. I smoothed my tie and checked the buttons on my wool overcoat.
“My mom’s expecting us.” Sunny smiled weakly. “I don’t want to upset her. She’s got her hands full with all this."
I swiveled, trying to take ‘all this’ in at once. A mammoth choo-choo train spun its flashing wheels on an imaginary track beside the front walk. Santa grinned from the engine. Eight spherical snow scenes stood in formation by the hedgerow, wobbling in the wind. When we passed a pair of mechanical reindeer genuflecting to the grass, I couldn’t keep quiet. “Jesus.”
Sunny waved a mitten at the side yard. “He’s sleeping in the manger.”
She stopped at the front door and took a steadying breath. Mascara made her eyelashes a mile long tonight, and those deep, dark eyes were Anne Hathaway huge, but the line of her mouth gave her away. I’d known Sunny Sharpe since we were dorky outsiders together in the eleventh grade and I knew this look.
Fear.
“Hey.” I tucked my hand into her mitten-covered one and gave her fingers a squeeze. “Everything’s going to be all right, Sun.”
“I hope so.” Sunny squeezed back. The wind gusted across the lawn and her shoulders shook.
“Ready?”
“No. Wait. I have something to tell you. Please don’t be mad. I should have told you as soon as I knew, but I was afraid you wouldn’t come tonight and I thought you should be here. You belong here.”
Dread’s icy finger touched my heart.
She took a deep breath. “Robb’s home.”
The bombshell hit me hard enough that I dropped her traitorous hand and took a step back. “Are you kidding me?”
“I know! I should have warned you. I’m sorry! I knew you’d cancel and I couldn’t stand for you to miss out. I don’t want you to be alone.”
“I’ve been alone since I was six. I like being alone. What the hell, Sun? Way to blindside a friend on Christmas.”
Robb Sharpe. Sunny’s tall, dark and handsome older brother. I’d carried a torch for him since the day I arrived in Cornwall as a bumbling sixteen year old. I’d come from one disastrous foster situation and landed smack into my last equally disastrous placement. I’d had a bad haircut and cheap sneakers and on the day Robb and I met, tongue-tied and painfully self-conscious in the presence of Sunny’s God-like big brother—swim team captain, student body treasurer, mathlete—I’d fallen down a flight of stairs and landed literally on top of his feet.
Oh my God. He’s home.
At least he wasn’t dead. Although, at that moment, I sort of wished I was.
“Robb’s here?” His name tasted of longing and shame. I choked that shit right back down where my feelings belonged. Buried. “Now? Tonight?”
“Yes. I’m so sorry!”
“Shit.” What was I doing at the Sharpe’s Christmas party anyway? I knew better. I’d never come before, why change my plans this year? I glared at my sweet-faced friend, then searched the cold brick mansion for a glimpse of dark eyes staring from behind the glass. Light twinkled from every window, but there was no sign of Lt. Sharpe. I didn’t see him. That didn’t mean he couldn’t see me.
The trees groaned. Wind whistled across the lake and the snow globes giggled like Jell O. I shivered inside my coat. “You’re absolutely sure?”
“Yes of course I am. I should have told you.”
“You should have.” I swore I’d moved on. Not geographically, of course, but I’d come light years from the needy kid Robb had left behind.
I could just die. But I wouldn’t.
“Don’t frown.” Sunny said automatically. “You’ll get crow’s feet.”
“Nice. You sound exactly like your mother.” I rolled my shoulders and did my best to smooth my features, but too late. “I’m fine. It’s fine. We’re good. I’m good. Let’s go.”
“You are more than good, you’re great.”
“Nice pep talk, Tony the Tiger.” My watch read seven o’clock. In a perfect world, I could get in and out of this nightmare in twenty minutes if I tried. “Let’s say Merry Christmas to your folks and then I need to get back to the bar.”
“Okay. Thank you. Chin up and smile.”
“Spare me.”
She squared her shoulders, slapped my back, and shoved me through the black lacquered door. Inside, the house smelled like old money—balsam pine, scotch, and beeswax. The air buzzed with party noises. A curved stairwell led to a gallery on the second floor where an enormous crystal chandelier gleamed overhead. When a thin woman in a starched apron took our coats, I knew the Sharpes had truly entered a new realm.
I shoved the problem of Robb right out of my mind and checked my tie in the mirror. “Where’s your mom? I should say hello to her first.”
“Jase. Where’s your blazer? Did you leave it in the car?”
“What?” A jacket. “I…Oh my God.” I froze at the threshold of the formal front hall. Decked appropriately in velvet and lace, Sunny stared worriedly at my chambray shirt and flannel tie. “Who the hell goes to a Christmas party without a coat? I can’t go in there now. Drive me home.”
“No! Forget I said anything. You’re fine. And I love this tie.” I slapped her hand as she tightened the knot. “It’s okay. I doubt anyone will notice.”
“You noticed.”
“I’m in retail. I notice every detail. Plus, my mom loves you, she won’t care what you wear, just that you’re here.”
“You say that now.”
“And Robb’s an adult with his own shit to deal with. Honestly. He’ll probably just say hello and clam up. He’s really quiet.”
“He’ll say ‘Hello’ with a coat and tie on, I know it.”
“I think he’s wearing a sweater, actually. And Robb’s got other things to deal with. My father invited a few lady friends for him tonight. I have no idea why.”
“What?” I stopped fiddling with my tie. “Robb’s gay. Even the Senator knows.”
“It’s hard to explain, but when Robb arrived a few hours ago, my dad insisted. Talk about having issues.” She blinked her big brown eyes and I softened. Damn her. “Don’t leave, Jase. Please? For me? I don’t want you to be alone.”
“But I like being alone…”
Sunny yanked me through the threshold and we were in. She gave me a quick tour of the house as if I wasn’t hiding from the ghost. I must have hidden pretty well, because I never saw him as we passed garlanded doorways and into walnut-paneled rooms brimming with tipsy family members and well turned out neighbors. Every man in attendance wore a freaking blazer or a cashmere sweater. Sometimes both. And always with a tie. There must be a rulebook I wasn’t aware of.
Sunny eventually faded into the depths of the house with the promise, “I’ll be right back,” and I found myself alone. A long table piled with platters of Christmas goodies stranded me. I fortified myself with a whiskey-laced eggnog and picked at a plate of curried meatballs. I didn’t interact with another guest until a curvy woman in a raspberry colored dress sidled beside me and spilled wine on my shoes. “Oops!” She stumbled away giggling as I stared at my soaked loafers.
Why am I here?
I folded a linen napkin into the form of a dove and set it on the table next to my empty cup. Time to brave the crush in the living room. Time to get out and get back to work at the bar where I belonged.
I needed to thank Mrs. Sharpe before I fled so I scanned the room for Sunny. Interestingly, not one person in our age bracket—the under thirty and still single crowd—was present, with the exception of a stiff looking man guarding the mantle. Two sleekly dressed women flanked him.
Robb Sharpe. Holy hell, he’d been standing a few feet from my nose the entire evening, and I hadn’t recognized him. Gaunt and rawboned, he’d aged ten years, easily. Time had stamped lines on his face and something, maybe experience, hardened him.
Robb observed the party as if sent here to gather Intel and report back to the front lines, but he ignored the two women so pointedly, I knew they were the Senator’s invited guests. If those ladies were looking for a good time, they needed a better map.
I stood in the doorway gathering my courage, struggling to find the right words. How could I possibly bridge a gap of ten years with a simple “hello”? “How are you?” seemed trite. “Hey it’s good to see you,” too revealing.
“Jason! Where do you think you’re going?” Sunny’s willowy mother intercepted me with a smile. She pulled me into a light hug that smelled of cinnamon sticks and alcohol. “You haven’t even said hello! You can’t leave yet.”
“It’s getting late.” I squirmed inside her embrace, patting her bony shoulder with an awkwardness born of embarrassment. In my book, public hellos and goodbyes should be offered at arm's length, but Mrs. Sharpe didn’t let me go. She hugged and squeezed, her hair tickling my nose, until she finally looped an arm through mine and walked me into the very center of the crowd.
"I was just saying to Freddie how nice it is to see you.”
“Me?” She must be tipsier than she looked. I’d seen Frederick Sharpe working the crowd of registered voters at the bar. He barely offered me a glance, never mind a word or a handshake.
Mrs. Sharpe patted my arm. “I’m so glad Sunny brought you. She always said you don’t like Christmas, but I never believed her. Everyone loves Christmas.”
"Well, you know how Sunny can be, so here I am."
"Yes. Here you are.” She smiled again. Her lipstick had faded over the course of the evening, but her skin glowed from too much Merlot. “And so handsome, too. Is that a new tie?”
“Same tie I always wear.”
“You look like a movie star.”
I’d been told that on more than one occasion. Blond, blue-eyed men have a strange effect on women of all ages.
Mrs. Sharpe’s eyes widened. “You know what? You should join us for Mass."
Mass?
"Tonight?" I choked and checked over my shoulder. Robb still held the mantle in place, a beautiful woman on either sleeve. He looked like I felt—ready to bolt.
Mrs. Sharpe laughed. “I meant tomorrow night. For Christmas Eve.”
“Oh. Right. Thanks, but I really should leave before then."
“To do what? You should stay with us for Holidays. We’d all love to have you.” She walked me across the broad living room as if she wanted to parade me past her son. “But, just in case you can’t stay, I have a little something to entice you.”
“I hope it’s your daughter. She promised to drive me home tonight.”
“Oh, you can’t get away that easily.” Mrs. Sharpe glanced at her son and gave a tiny ladylike cough. “Did you say hello to Robb? I know you were good friends when you and Sunny were in high school. He could use some friends now that he’s home.”
Friends? A blush crawled from my collar to my neck. “I haven’t had a chance yet, no.”
“But you will.” She nodded. “Promise?”
Robb drank from a can of soda, and his opaque eyes took in our stroll. I couldn’t tell if he was watching me or his mother or the wall, but I could guess. The heat prickling my skin climbed higher. I had no clue what to say to him, or to his mother, but I had to say something. “I will. I promise.”
“Good. Tonight’s the first time we’ve been together in years. It’s going to take some getting used to.”
"I understand." I had zero experience with family relations so my words were merely polite.
That seemed to be enough for Mrs. Sharpe. She squeezed my arm again. "I'm glad you decided to come. You should stay the rest of the week. Have Christmas with us. We can go skating and play broomball—have a real New England holiday. I hate the thought of you being alone.”
“I’m fine, and Riley’s can’t run without me. But I appreciate the invitation.”
“Just think it over.”
“Sure.” We arrived at the library door where an enormous tree filled the room. Cocooned in finely spun angel hair, and crisscrossed with strands of bold lights and flimsy strings of popcorn, the fragrant pine floated above a sea of tastefully wrapped gifts. It looked exactly as a real Christmas tree ought to—only more so. Wooden toys, ceramic birds, and shimmering bells weighed every branch. Round glass ornaments hung from the boughs. The tree-topping star could have guided the Magi east.
“Wow.”
“I know. Christmas is what I do best, however I lose all sense of proportion during the holidays. Maybe Sunny warned you?” Mrs. Sharpe winked before turning to dig through the pile of loot on the rug. “Now, let’s see…I have a little something here for you.”
“For me?” I almost asked her why, but I sealed my lips and settled my feet.
Mrs. Sharpe straightened and dumped a bulging Christmas stocking, complete with a striped candy cane poking from the top, into my empty hands. I hadn’t had one of these since…well, ever. I squeezed the velvet until the sound of crumbling paper stopped me from strangling the thing. She’d written my name in glittery cursive on the cuff. Handcrafted, like I was family or something.
But I wasn’t family. No family of mine had ever given me a scrap, unless you counted the one-way ticket to foster care.
Yes, Sunny and I always exchanged gifts. We were friends. This year, I had a new book on astronomy and I’d given her a tiny hedgehog charm for her bracelet, but a gift from Mrs. Sharpe? I was practically a stranger to Sunny's parents. Probably the gesture meant nothing—maybe she gave presents willy-nilly to every constituent who entered her palatial lake house.
But, damn it, her gift meant something to me.
My throat closed and I swallowed against a rising tide of emotion.
“Merry Christmas, Jason.” Mrs. Sharpe said gently and, alcohol afflicted or no, she seemed so fucking sincere I had to look away. Robb’s quiet stare met mine from across the room. He saw right through me. He always had. Heat reached my hairline. I broke free of his gaze and squinted down at my overfilled hands. You knew better. You knew not to come.
My eyes blurred.
I had nothing in return for this woman. Not a bottle of wine, or a grocery store poinsettia, or even a lame greeting card. A plate of cookies, for Christ’s sake, I could have made a paper chain for her tree. Something. Anything. I hadn’t even come properly attired.
There should be a handbook for orphans. Honestly.
Mrs. Sharpe waited, her eyes soft.
Damn Sunny all over again. She could have given me a heads up about this, too. She knew I’d arrived here like that pitiful Drummer Boy from the song. I had nothing to give. And I hadn’t offered a single word of welcome to Robb.
The shame that had stolen my tongue as a child returned, but I managed to keep things real enough by eking out a simple, “Thank you.”
“Oh, you’re very welcome, hon. We're glad you came—and if you’d like to stay, please do. We’ve plenty of room and we’d love to have you.” She gave me another squeeze, rumpling the present between us, and when she let go, the second after I wrinkled her dress with my sweaty orphan palms, I fled.
I nabbed my coat, located the nearest exit through a jungle of elephantine pink poinsettias, and hit the Sharpe’s narrow sun porch at a goddamn trot. A zillion festive white lights lit my way until I passed through that dazzling portal to a silent, frigid night.
I sucked sweet air into my lungs once my feet were safely on the porch and clutched the collar of my coat, then tucked the stocking under my arm. Pinpricks of sleet bit my cheeks, but at least there weren’t any Sharpes here—only a howling gloom that whistled over the frozen waters of the lake and shaped the fallen snow into long, spiny hills. Lights flickered on the north shore. Or maybe that was Old Saint Nick himself headed this way.
Maybe he could give me a lift back to town.
The stars were hiding. A bulb hung from the boathouse, spilling yellow light onto the overflow cars. A path bisected the snowdrifts and ended at the boathouse door where a snow shovel rested against the batten boards. Shadows flickered in the second story windows.
I buttoned my coat and trod to the porch steps, literally an outsider on every level. I knew better than to intrude on a family during the holidays. Not because I wasn’t wanted on some peripheral level—I’d turned this invite down for ten solid years. But this year, Sunny had snagged me by the arm and trundled me into her perky little car, hoodwinking me with her fake encouragement and her false cheer. You have to see the new house! Please come, please?