Christmas Lights and Pretend Nights

2.Citrus and Sawdust

I close the door and lean against it. My nose detects a faint peppermint scent wafting in the air. Yes, I’m definitely home, tightly immersed in my mother’s perfume. I should be feeling happy, but my chest feels tight. The frustration stems from none other than Jack Sullivan.

Ghosts from Christmases past are just that strong.

But Jack isn’t one. He is too real. Too physically intimidating to be a ghost. He still represents every argument I’ve lost or won in this town. He is a challenge placed right on my welcome mat.

“You actually believe I don’t know what hard work is?”

His words have managed to rattle me. I should have moved on. The thought of the slightly rough scruff on his jaw and the smell of rain and peppermint all make me want to hug myself. He is no longer a boy, that much is clear.

I remind myself that I am a big-city consultant, Holly McKay. Why should I get flustered by a restoration architect from my youth? Yes, he smells good, but -

I shake my head. That’s not how I should be thinking.

Sighing heavily, I drag my suitcase through our entryway’s festive chaos. Of course. My mother has made sure every twinkling candy cane seems to have lost its way and ends up in the house. Poinsettias brighten the way, providing a warmth against the green of the peppermints and other candies.

“Holly, darling. Leave that in that corner. I know you’re exhausted. Relax a bit,” mom chirps from the kitchen. “Or, er, socialize!”

I eye her suspiciously. Something is terribly off. I mean, Mom is a sweet woman, but this is pushing it. It’s too bright.

“Mm. I thought I came for some quiet days with the family,” I say, emphasizing the last word.

Mom appears from her little nook, wiping her hands on her snowman-designed apron. Again, her eyes are too bright and her smile is too wide.

“I have cocoa for you, don’t you worry. But it’s Christmas! I believe you want to catch up with old friends,” she says, making her voice trail off on purpose. “Come follow me.”

I’m pretty sure that’s an order. So, I follow, trying not to roll my eyes like a teenager.

And there he is.

A man I have not thought about since I graduated from college sits there patiently with his back ramrod straight. He wears a chunky, cable-knit sweater.

Ugh.

“Darling, do you remember Ander? Ander McAllister?” Mom asks, her eyes holding a warning that means if I don’t remember, I'd better try racking my brain for information. “Ander, look at who finally decided to visit!”

Ander rises from the couch to greet me. I must admit he is taller than I remember him. He has that trustworthy, clean-cut look that moms trust.

“Holly,” he greets me with his low voice. “Your mother is right. It has been too long. It’s a good thing your mom mentioned you were coming home for the holidays. So, I thought I’d come see you.”

Oh, of course she did.

“Uh, it’s nice to see a familiar face, Ander,” I say, giving him a smile that matches my mother’s but stiffens my cheeks.

“Ander is so hardworking. He just finished restoring the community center. The whole west wing! Can you imagine that? He is a contractor with his own business.”

Translation. Ander is filthy rich.

But so is Jack.

Still, Ander is more predictable and probably more town-approved. I have been hearing about how he’s been a bit of a player. Meanwhile, my current visitor does not exude those vibes.

“That’s great, Ander,” I say, failing to inject enthusiasm into my voice.

“Ander could have gone anywhere else,” my mother adds, “but he chose to stay here in town and build a wonderful life for himself and for the community.”

The matchmaking is blatant, but there’s also a subtle dig at my choice to leave.

Why didn’t you stay?

You could have a perfect life with a good man the family knows, while staying near your family.

“I love this town, Holly. I think that’s why I am here. I also love fixing things that more people can use.” I think of Jack, who is here to restore the old theater. What’s with the people here fixing the past? “But I know you’re doing great in the city. Consulting, right?”

“You can say that again,” I reply. “I fix broken businesses. So, I am a fixer-upper, too.”

“You see? The two of you have something in common. Holly, I need to tend to something in the kitchen. You two catch up.”

My mother knows exactly what she is doing. She manages to trap me. I sit on the armchair facing Ander and try to remember the last thing we talked about.

God. Was it AP English?

“What’s the most thrilling save you’ve done lately?” he asks.

I launch into a story full of jargon and logistics. It’s what makes me glow. My job. It may be lonely in the city at times, but when I’m at work, I am on fire. Ander watches and tries to give me a reassuring smile, but I see his eyes are glazing over. So, I stop.

“That takes a lot of energy,” he says. “So, are you here to recharge, then?”

“I’m here for family,” I say honestly, trying to keep the bite out of my response. All the excitement in my voice is gone now.

“Uh, right. Family,” he agrees. “But it’s also good to slow down. By the way, I was talking to your dad about the foundation work his shed needs. I have a bit of time tomorrow to spare to look at it.”

Now, his eyes are bright.

“I bet you have quite the toolbox,” I say, and it’s too late when I realize I may sound like I’m flirting.

“Oh, I do,” he confirms, puffing his chest out. “You should see it.”

Ugh. Did I just get invited to see his toolbox?

You don’t know how to get your hands dirty.

Maybe you just never looked close enough.

A thought comes over me. What if? What if I walk around accompanied by none other than Jack Sullivan, the man I can’t seem to have a polite conversation with? It may make Ander retreat. My mom may or may not faint. She may not like how Jack’s reputation seems to have terrified a few older people here. Or, she can be desperate enough to shove me onto Jack.

The best thing about him, though, is that he is completely safe. He is temporary. Perfect.

Mom returns with two mugs of cocoa. It’s pretty obvious which one is mine, the one with candy and whipped cream. Ander’s is plain.

“Thank you, Mrs. McKay,” Ander says, accepting his mug gratefully.

“Wonderful! You two have a nice evening now,” Mom says, giving me a meaningful look. Translation: Don’t mess this up.

“I am so sorry, Mom and Ander. But I had previous plans,” I say, trying to sound as heartbroken as possible.

My mother frowns at me, and I know she can tell I’m lying.

“Don’t be rude, Holly,” she warns, although my mom is never mean. She’s just desperate. “Ander is right here.”

“It’s all right, Mrs. McKay. I can come back another day. She’s just arrived.”

“My laptop has a charger that’s not available here in town. Jack Sullivan came here earlier and mentioned that there may be a backup charger in the old theater.”

She narrows her eyes at me. She is not good at things dealing with electronics, but she knows something is completely off with what I’m saying.

“I’m not going to take long,” I reassure her.

Then, my mother’s face goes through three distinct stages. Confusion. Alarm. Then, there’s a stronger suspicion that almost looks like a grin. Now, I’m just as suspicious.

“Jack Sullivan?” she asks, finally, raising both eyebrows. “That Sullivan boy? Your rival?”

“That one. The one I completely despise.”

She sighs. “Just be careful, Holly. He’s complicated. He’s not the kind of restoration you need.”

Ah. I know that well enough.

I grab my key, but not before I down the cocoa, hot liquid and all. I step out into the crisp evening air and quickly get into my sedan.

The roads are still familiar. I navigate them until I reach a place as abandoned and complicated as my own life and intentions. The Evergreen Theater.

It’s found right on the edge of town, where perfectly manicured streets and wealthier homes give way to the older and rougher side. It used to have an almost forbidden glamor. Now, it’s just dark and imposing with chain links wrapped around it. To add to the vibe, there’s even a yellow caution tape. I raise an eyebrow at that.

Ander may fix things that people will appreciate but Jack is undergoing a challenge, one that requires boundless resources. It will certainly be a boost to his ego.

I park across the familiar street under a street lamp, which barely illuminates. There’s a truck not too far away. I’m guessing it’s his. My palms are sweaty. I realize just how ridiculous it is to be here. I’m usually a planner, not someone who acts upon instinct. I’m also just depending on a hunch.

The side door is open. I saunter it, trying not to overthink. A serial killer is probably waiting for me inside, because how is Jack still here alone? It’s not like I’m invited here, either. My boots, used to city pavement, crunch on debris: dust, sawdust, and more.

There’s a light inside at least. The auditorium brings back old memories with its high ceiling and curtains.

And there is Jack.

This time, he is wearing slightly stained jeans and a thick thermal shirt. He wears gloves, too. Wait. Isn’t he an architect? What is he doing here, being hands-on?

“We’re closed for business, McKay.”

His voice teases. Light.

“I have a proposition to make.”

He straightens himself. He pulls off his safety glasses and crosses his arms over his chest. I know that gesture so well. It is a challenge. But I can also see exhaustion. What is he doing here without anyone to help him?

“You’re trespassing, Holly,” he drawls, but a smirk has already formed on his face. “You’ve just arrived and you’re already hiding from your mother.”

I take a deep breath. I must sell my proposition well. It’s now or never.

“I - I need a decoy,” I say, walking closer to him until only the workbench is between us. “You are perfect for it because you’re the most arrogant and objectionable man I know.”

“That’s how you work as a consultant? That’s how you convince people?” Jack asks, raising his eyebrows.”

“I didn’t come to flatter you. I just arrived and my mother has already began finding someone to marry me off to. I need some protection.”

“Condoms?” he deadpans.

“Get real, Sullivan,” I say, only slightly irritated.

“So, I’m your bulletproof vest.”

“Sort of. If I show up with you everywhere, we can ignite the town gossip. They will be curious why two people who despise each other are suddenly inseparable. They’ll be too interested to help my mother with her matchmaking ways.”

Jack chuckles, and I feel warm with embarrassment.

What was I thinking?

“How will this benefit me?”.

“I can assist you with your project. Be your consultant for free.”

“Who says I’m not getting any help?”

Honestly, I’m floundering in the darkness. Of course, he has help. Wealthy and well-connected, he has more than enough.

“Perhaps it’s how we’re both highly competitive. If you have any setbacks, I can distract them. Also, I think I’ll be highly entertaining to you here.”

This time, he studies me. He is sizing me up just like he used to when we debated.

“You’re desperate. That offer does not even make sense to me, but I must admit I’m curious. I like causing a stir.”

His amusement is obvious. As he walks even closer, I smell citrus and sawdust. That sounds like a title of some strange dark comedy.

“What’s your price, Sullivan?”

We both know his price is not money. He has tons of it.

“My price,” he says, looking me straight in the eye as I hold my breath, “is that you have to sell it. Not just to the world. We will act not just as distractions but as a couple.”

“What?”

“You heard it. It’s your ultimate acting challenge. You must make me believe every stolen kiss and pretend affection, Holly. Let’s see how you can convince your mother, too. If you are willing to do that, I’m game.”

My heartbeat thrums in my throat. I know I’m way in over my head, but it’s perfect. Performance. Revelry. Winning. The arrangement has all the ingredients I’ve always craved. I realize how bored I had been all my life.

“Deal,” I say, extending my hand.

He takes it. His hand is rough from work, warm, and firm. When our skin touches, something shifts. I swear, there’s a shimmer of light that catches the dust motes.

It’s barely a second, but I know it was there.

Did he see it? If he did, he does not show it.

“Now, how do we begin/”

“I believe we need a shared disaster.”