Catch My Fall (37 page)

CHAPTER NineTeen

I
stayed with Cole a few times that week, letting him touch me each night – albeit in the dark. That was nothing new.

I enjoyed the vegging out on the couch time, the ordering Chinese food. It all seemed to be falling back into place. Stellan and my getting along again wasn’t hurting the situation, strangely enough. We were also texting again, not at a constant clip, but often enough for me to silence my phone when I was at Cole’s place to avoid any chance of getting the hairy eyeball.

By Friday afternoon, Stellan had gotten me to work on a few more sketches, told me I was a genius a few times, and threatened to send pictures of his bowel movements when I didn’t accept the compliment.

I was meandering through Crosby’s Supermarket during just one such conversation when my phone went off with an alert I’d almost forgotten – my work email. It fired off in the produce section, and I was so startled by it, I almost dropped a bag of Cortland Apples.

I scrambled to my pocket for my phone and found the alert text – Dennis Shay.

I leaned against the counter with my heart pounding against my ribs.

Ms. Jensen,

My apologies for the delay, but I’m sure you know how these things can get. I have an early Christmas present for you. The position has officially opened, which gives me the opportunity (finally) to offer it to you. If you accept, you’d start the second week of the New Year.

Please get back to me as soon as you can to let me know if you’re still interested.

We’re so looking forward to having you join the group – and thank you for your patience.

Dennis Shay

Head of Marketing, Chalice Enterprises

I stared at that email with the stem of an apple pushing a divot into my left butt cheek for at least five minutes, reading the words over and over again. I didn’t move until an older woman excused herself to reach past me for a Fuji.

I was in shock. I’d been disappointed for so long, this felt like someone popped a brown paper bag next to my ear to cure hiccups. I paid for my groceries with my mother’s bank card and proceeded to sit in a catatonic state in the driver’s seat of my car for another twenty minutes.

I didn’t call anyone, text anyone, nothing. I just sat there.

It wasn’t until I pulled into my driveway that I finally called Dennis and accepted the position.

I decided to save the announcement for my party – turn the shindig into a celebration of sorts. I could tell everyone, we could toast, maybe get plastered, play a few games, and all would be right with the world. Keeping it to myself made sleep just about impossible that night, so I spent much of it cooking. It was similar to Thanksgiving – pies and more pies, my usual suspects. For Christmas, though, I switched it up - gingerbread whoopee pies with pumpkin frosting, and my own version of fruitcake, made with lemons, blueberries, and a sugar glaze. I wasn’t messing around, ladies and gentlemen. I also whipped up three batches of my grandmother’s chocolate chip cookies and placed them with red tissue paper into holiday tins to be given as prizes.

Yes, prizes.

Yes, I have games at my parties, is that a problem?

What? You don’t like fun?

I knew my friends well – Stellan would most likely bring Sam Adams and then devour the entire Swedish Apple Pie by himself, Evan would bring whiskey, Meghan would bring wine, and Jackie would bring some extravagant baked good to shame mine by appearance alone, but I’d love her for it. Patty and Cole were the only wild cards. I couldn’t imagine them bringing a grand array of savory dishes, so I’d accepted that responsibility as well – French bread, brie and grapes, a platter of bruschetta with basil I kept growing in the kitchen window, and tuna croquettes.

Yes, I said croquettes, whatever. And I said it in my best Julia Child impersonation, I assure you.

I finally rounded out the pretentious spread with a bowl of lays chips and a big ol’ tub of onion dip. I’d most likely drown myself in that bad boy before the end of the night.

I spent Saturday finishing up the last few dishes, stuffing the fridge with prepared platters, setting out the table in the living room and decorating it. Then I spent the late afternoon preparing the games, with sporadic last minute cleaning spurts in between.

My mother made comment of how lovely the house looked just before heading out for the evening – a dinner date with a college friend. I knew she’d made the plan deliberately in order to leave me the house for the evening, and though I would have loved her company, I appreciated it.

Jackie, as expected, was the first to arrive, offering my favorite chocolate raspberry Porte at the door. Kevin carried an industrial sized cake carrier in behind her. I took the bottle to the kitchen while she started setting up. I came back to the living room to find Jackie’s baking proclivities had veered into cake decorating. She was unveiling a three tier Christmas tree cake on the table. It was immaculate, with fondant ornaments and rice crispy treat presents frosted and tied with bows.

I naturally called her a whore.

She beamed at me. “I’ve been trying.”

I glared at her. “Trying my ass, it’s gorgeous!”

She shrugged. “My first attempts weren’t great -”

“They were delicious!” Kevin called from the kitchen.

“-but I think I’m getting there.”

Not long thereafter, Meghan arrived with the expected bottle of Merlot, barreling past me to toss her coat into the closet and demand I appraise her outfit. She was wearing a fitted red dress that one might expect on Marilyn Monroe, a flower in her hair to match. She looked almost as stunning as Jackie’s cake.

I’m pretty sure I called her a whore, too.

She wagged her finger at me. “Honey, I’m wearing no less than three pairs of Spanx right now. Beauty is pain.”

Jackie joined me in the kitchen to start relocating platters to the table when I heard the front door open, coupled with a new male voice. I spotted Cole from the hallway, offering yet another bottle of wine to whoever would take it. He spotted me and grinned. I kissed his cheek and took his jacket, suddenly aware that I’d half expected him not to come. I introduced him to Kevin, and he gave a polite nod and a hand shake, despite Meghan’s greeting being a few muttered expletives that he surely could have made out if he tried.

A new set of feet stomped away the snow on the porch. I hustled to the door and found Patty waiting in a white knee length wool trench coat, her hair hidden under a green knit hat.

She looked fucking adorable.

She smiled at me, and her nose crinkled as she handed me a brown paper box, tied with string.

“What is this?” I asked.

She shrugged off her coat, smiling. “It’s – um, goose liver pate, actually.”

If I glared at the box, I swear I didn’t mean to.

“No, I swear, it’s really good! You eat it on crackers or bread. You have to try it. And hey, what’s more Christmassy than goose, right?”

A voice startled her from outside. “Fuckin A, right! That’s what I’ve been sayin for years.”

Evan smiled at her when she turned.

Evan and Stellan traipsed up the steps together. I should have heard their guffawing from up the street, but I was too busy trying to beam at Patty. This whole damn shindig was, in essence, for her. She’d never know that though. I’d never tell her.

She almost hopped in place when she recognized him. “Evan Lambert? Oh my god!”

Evan leaned into her and gave her a kiss on the cheek and a one arm embrace as he tried to hand me the bottle of Glennfiddich. “Hello Patricia. How are you doing, my dear?”

She glanced at me, smiling. “I’m good. I’m good. How are you?”

Evan gestured to Stellan coming up behind him. “Miserable. This fucker followed me here.”

Stellan kicked his boots against the door jamb a few more times before entering. As expected, he had a case of Sam’s. I glared at it, shook my head and muttered, “predictable” loud enough for him to hear me.

“What? It’s winter lager, woman! Drink up while you can!”

He then shifted his weight and pulled a small six pack of Magners into view. This he handed to me with a grin. I smiled up at him. A good hard cider wasn’t the easiest thing to find around here. One had to hit a specialty shop or drive to east bum for Magners. Apparently, Stellan had taken the time. Magners was my favorite.

Evan tried to hand me his coat, and I called him a jackass, pointing to the closet. He made comment about ‘being unable to find good help these days’ and walked his ass over to the closet himself, taking Patty’s coat as well.

Patty mouthed her surprise when his back was turned. I smiled. I heard Meghan introducing herself by the coat closet and chose to distract myself in the kitchen. A quick glass of ice and I was sipping away at my Magners.

The wine and whiskey was open and flowing. I listened to Patty delight over the Christmas cake, and Meghan flirting with Evan. Kevin filtered into the kitchen with Stellan, and I watched his body language as he gestured to the case of Sam Adams and gave Stellan a nod. “Mind horribly if I grab one of those?”

Stellan hauled the case up onto the counter and ripped the top open. “Hell yeah, man. Dig in. It’s actually pretty damn cold, too.”

Kevin grabbed a bottle and groaned his approval. Cole filtered in from the dining room and leaned against the counter. I settled with my back to the sink and searched for words to fill the silence.

Kevin beat me to it. “What you drinking there, Faye?”

I lifted my glass as though startled to find it in my hand. “Oh, it’s a Magners.”

“What’s that?” He asked.

Stellan coughed and looked at him. “Philistine!”

I smiled. “It’s a hard cider. Guinness makes it.”

He approached the center island and inspected the small Magners case. “Really?”

“Yeah, feel free to try one,” I said.

“Is it like Woodchuck?” Kevin asked.

Stellan and I shook our heads, but Cole answered. “Yeah, it’s the same thing.”

“No way. Magners is the way to go,” I said.

Stellan swallowed quickly. “Unless you can get Scrumpy.”

I moaned. “Och, Scrumpy! Yes, please.”

Cole swallowed quickly in order to speak. “Have you even had Woodchuck? It’s the same thing and a lot easier to get your hands on.”

Before I could answer, Stellan did for me. “She hates Woodchuck.”

Kevin gestured to Stellan who quickly produced a metal bottle opener from his pocket.

Cole made a face. “I’m a bartender; I might know something about it. If you like Magners, Woodchuck is the same thing.”

Stellan shook his head, but I answered. “I just really don’t care for Woodchuck.”

“It’s fucking foul,” Stellan said.

Cole scoffed. “They make more than one kind. Maybe you just need to try a different one.”

I shrugged before taking a sip of my Magners. I didn’t want to continue the conversation. “Ok,” I said.

“Faye! Oh my god, I
love
this painting!” Patty called from the living room.

I bounded down the hall, happy to get out of the kitchen. “Yeah, about that. Seriously?”

I delivered the words and the accompanying glare directly to Evan.

He flashed me a grin. “Your mother is a wonderful lady.”

I didn’t argue. Given that my mother had once cut a key to our front door for him because of the many nights we’d found him passed out on our front porch chairs because he was kicked out of the house or too afraid to go home, I knew exactly what inspired the generosity.

Patty turned to Evan who was cornered on the couch by a puma – also known as Meghan. “Did you buy this?”

It suddenly struck me that I hadn’t completed the set up for the party. I snuck over to the stereo and turned on the playlist of Christmas songs I’d collected for the night - Bing Crosby and Old Blue Eyes crooning away. I let the music play and slipped out the back door to grab firewood. When I snuck back in, Stellan lunged at me, demanding I let him take the burden. He made quick work of building the fire. Moments later, it was crackling away, and I was blissfully people watching in my own living room.

I took in the space – Stellan and Kevin were chatting about Fallout 4, Jackie was by the office with Cole discussing the restaurant business, and both Patty and Meghan were hanging on Evan’s every word. It felt comfortable to be in this space, and not need to talk to anyone. I felt like the conductor of an impromptu orchestra. Kevin and Stellan glommed onto one another at get-togethers in the past, but seeing Cole and Patty settle into the dynamic was nice.

I watched Patty from the fireplace. She was sitting at the edge of her chair, a glass of wine in her hand. She was smiling. She was laughing. I was glad, despite the ‘Patty is such a cock block’ conversation that would surely come from Meghan by the end of the night.

I felt a hand graze my lower back and jumped. Cole smiled at me before pointing at the pieces of paper on the walls. “What’s this?”

I beamed. “Everybody grab a piece of paper and a pen from the table. We’re gonna play a game.”

“What kind of game?” Cole asked.

“It’s a riddle game.”

Jackie and Patty were heading for table.

“And did I mention that the prize for winning is a batch of Grammy Jensen’s Chocolate Chip Cookies?”

News of cookies sent Stellan and Evan surging past the others. Everyone else milled where they were, Meghan going so far as to grumble. I explained the first game – there were six pieces of paper on the walls throughout the downstairs, each paper contained four riddles. The person with the most right answers, wins. Patty was ready to go, walking down the hallway toward the first piece of paper. Jackie headed into the kitchen. Evan and Stellan nearly tackled each other as they followed Patty, calling each other ‘ball bag’ and ‘homosexual,’ to which Meghan hollered her disapproval.

I laughed, and beamed with love for both of them. I was sure it read on my face.

Truth be told, this was not a fair game on my part. The first game was riddles, the second was a sheet of anagrams, all containing the first letter of each word in the title of a Christmas song. Despite some blatant cheating between the laypersons, Stellan and Evan both tied for first in each game. They were openly accused of cheating by Patty, given their ‘superior intellect.’ Evan said, “Why thank you,” and Stellan said, “Where’s my cookies?”