Merry's Christmas: A Love Story (6 page)

As Daniel handed Merry the account book,
Catherine approached, impeccably dressed. Her heel clicks echoed as she crossed
the marble-tiled floor. Daniel rose immediately. Merry followed suit.

Catherine looked Merry over, and then
turned to Daniel. “Almost ready?”

Ever the gentleman, Daniel made
introductions. “Merry, I’d like you to meet Catherine Strong.”

Reflexively, Merry gawked at Catherine’s
last name. “Strong—you mean, as in the name of this whole bank?”

“My father,” Catherine replied smoothly.

“She’s on the board,” Daniel interjected.
“And we have a meeting across town, so—”

Merry extended her hand. “Catherine. Nice
to meet you. I’m Merry. As in Christmas.”

“Oh. How very...apropos,” Catherine
replied, exchanging a mystified glance with Daniel.

Sensing the slight, Merry took their cue.
“I should go. Get started.”

With a cheerful wave, Merry backed toward
the door. Before she turned, she saw Catherine discreetly move a few raised
fingers in return. Her brow arched with a hint of superiority that stuck in
Merry’s throat. Then, just as Merry reached the exit, she distinctly heard
Catherine’s assessment.

“She’s delightful, Daniel,” Catherine
remarked. “Almost—I don’t know—like a Dickens character, don’t you think?”

Her face reddening, Merry pushed through
the revolving door. It wasn’t Catherine’s tone that had bothered her, or even
the first part of what she had said. It was that dismissive sort of put-down at
the end.

As Merry spun outside and hurried away,
something about those final words of Catherine’s rang in her ears. They taunted
her all the way down the block till she disappeared around the corner. They
mocked her about her clothes and her hair and her childlike effervescence.

Safely out of sight, Merry stopped. She
did her best to pluck out the barb and nurse her wounded pride. It was ironic,
she told herself. She had long identified with the orphans of Dickens; she’d
read his books cover to cover.

Chin up
, she thought. She was who she was, and that was that.
Nothing was going to steal the joy of her day. Though no one was there to see
or hear it, Merry willed herself to throw her shoulders back and smile. She
nodded, and then said what she needed to say. “Thank you, Catherine. I’ll
consider that a compliment.”

Back at the Bell’s townhouse, Merry
spread out craft supplies on the kitchen table. Happily, she organized an
eclectic assortment of colorfully patterned dinnerware, ribbons, beads, wire,
bells, doodads, and odd recyclables over a protective covering of newsprint.
Merry had always loved creating things. She enjoyed the adventure that making
something out of what seemed like nothing could be. Her eyes shining, she
scanned the diverse array. Never before had she had such nice materials, nor so
many shimmering possibilities.

Ollie loped in through the back door. He
ditched his backpack on the counter and made a beeline straight for the cookie
jar. “Hi, again, whoever you are,” he chirped.

Merry looked up from her work. Something
in Ollie’s easy acceptance of her presence made her begin to feel at home. “Hi,
again.”

Ollie looked at her quizzically. “Are you
that Merry Christmas person?”

“Yup,” Merry nodded. “Just getting going
here.”

Ollie eyed the table. “What’s all that
stuff?”

“For ornaments. For the tree.”

“Why don’t you just buy some at the
store?” Ollie asked, stuffing a chocolate chip cookie into his mouth.

“More fun to make them,” Merry countered.
“That way, it’s a memory you’ll be hanging. Wanna help?”

Ollie crinkled his nose at the prospect.
“Looks like it’s for girls.”

Merry sighed cheerily. “Well, your
sisters, they said they had homework. So, the opportunity is wide open.”

Ollie shook his head warily as he
retrieved his backpack. “I think I might have homework, too.”

“Okay,” Merry accepted, going on with her
work. Then, with a nonchalant nod to the pile of dinnerware, she added, “But
you’d get to break stuff.”

Not long later, a colorful plate smashed
into an outdoor fireplace in the Bell’s backyard. Merry turned to Ollie,
admiring his toss. “Oooh, good one. Why don’t you try a couple of these
teacups?”

Wearing an oddly protective snorkeling
mask and oven mitts, Ollie grabbed the cups and sent them sailing into the
barbeque where they shattered into pieces. “Smithereens!” he shouted gleefully.

Merry climbed the stairs and approached
the bedroom the Bell girls shared. The twins hadn’t come to her, so she would
try going to them. As she reached the doorway, Merry saw Tara first. She was
rifling impatiently through her closet. Hayden was across the room, sitting on
her bed with her laptop and books, apparently trying to make a dent in her
homework.

“This is hopeless,” Tara moped. “He’s
seen every single permutation of every last piece I’ve got.”

“You’re welcome to my wardrobe,” Hayden
offered flatly.

“Funny,” Tara groaned.

It felt kind of odd to Merry that the
girls weren’t acknowledging her presence. She reminded herself that it would be
more challenging to break the ice with them than it had been with Ollie. She
gave the doorjamb a light rap. “Got a sec?”

Tara nodded acceptingly. She waved at
Merry to come in, a conniving glint in her eyes. “So...since you’re the one
doing the whole Christmas thing—”

Merry shrugged congenially, “Well, I kind
of thought we’d all do it.”

Tara marched straight to her desk and
grabbed a piece of paper. “Well, anyway, you’ll be happy to know I’ve already
done my part.”

Hayden barely looked up to add, “Yeah,
she’s been making her list and checking it twice ever since Dad said we could
have Christmas.”

“That’s great,” Merry said. “I was going
to ask you to make lists.”

“Yeah, I’ll get right on that,” Hayden
replied, her tone dripping with cynicism.

Undaunted, Tara handed Merry a lengthy
list. Impressed, Merry scanned it.

“My favorite boutiques, my color palette
and sizes,” Tara explained. “Daddy may resist the Beemer, but still try. Not
like he can’t afford it.”

Merry’s eyes widened. Though taken aback
by the list’s contents, she knew she wanted to get off on the right foot with
Tara. “This is some list. Very...complete.”

Hayden chortled. “Yeah, she’s actually
glad to be Christmassing again. Amazing we have the same DNA.”

Tara whirled toward her twin. “I’m just
trying to be supportive. Not everyone has to be all grinch-o-rama like you.”

Undaunted, Hayden ripped off a blank
piece of notebook paper and held it up. “Yeah. Here’s my list. I don’t want
anything.”

Desperate to diffuse the situation, Merry
stepped closer. “Oh, you know what? I’m sorry. See, I was hoping you’d each
make a list of what you want to get for everybody else. Not even stuff to buy
necessarily. Just things you really want for each other.”

“Don’t even get me started on that,”
Hayden replied.

Tara studied Merry, puzzled. “Wait. These
lists, they’re...she’s... That’s what we’re going to get?”

“The lists would be of what you’re going
to give,” Merry clarified.

Tara wrinkled her brow. Hayden stifled a
giggle. Finally, Tara snatched the lists from Merry. Then, ceremoniously, Tara
gave her own laundry list of desired gifts to Hayden and grabbed Hayden’s blank
list for herself. “Done!” Tara pronounced as she strode out victoriously.

Left alone with Hayden, Merry wasn’t sure
what to do. Though she’d never had a family of her own, she knew what sibling
rivalry could be like from her youth spent with other kids in orphanages and
foster care. At a loss for what to say, Merry sent up a silent plea for help.

Hayden perused Tara’s list. She rolled
her eyes, crumpled it up and tossed it into her wastebasket. She plopped back
down on her bed and resumed her studies as if Merry wasn’t even there.

Merry was used to feeling invisible.
She’d felt that way most of her life. But this wasn’t about how Merry felt and
she knew it. It was about Hayden. Merry took a deep breath, realizing that they
were nothing alike. She searched her mind for common ground, any way into
Hayden’s locked up heart.

Merry tentatively ambled into the room.
“I almost had a sister once. I always wanted one,” she ventured.

“Want mine?” Hayden shot back, never even
looking up from her work.

“I wish it were that easy.”

Hayden finally looked at Merry. “Who says
it’s easy having one? Especially if I’m supposed to want to give her something
that she doesn’t already have. She’s more popular. She’s got a boyfriend. She’s
prettier.”

Seeing a crack in Hayden’s armor, Merry
risked perching on the end of her bed. “Hayden, why do you... I mean, you’re
both beautiful. You’re twins.”

Hayden shook her head. “And in every set
there’s an Alpha. You’re looking at the uncontested Beta, here.”

Merry sat quietly for a moment,
understanding what it was like to be passed over all too well. “Not so big on
Christmas, huh?”

At the mention of the season, Hayden
looked sadly peeved. “Look. Even if I wanted to rally around the Christmas
tree—which I so completely don’t—I’ve still got nothing for Tara. Nothing she’d
want.”

Hayden broke eye contact with Merry. She
picked up a pencil and seemed only to pretend to resume her homework.

Merry read Hayden’s signal. Not wanting
to press too far too soon, she rose from the bed. “You seem really smart,
Hayden. Smarter than I ever was. As far as what Tara might like you to give her
this Christmas goes, well...you’ll think of something.”

Merry wandered away, down the upstairs
hallway. She gazed at the family photos along the wall. Indeed, it was easy to
tell Tara from Hayden in the pictures. They’d been dressed alike as babies, and
similarly in childhood shots, as many young twins are. But clearly, as the
girls had grown into their teens, their differences had emerged. From the first
of the photos where their mother was absent, Tara was completely put together
in every picture, while Hayden looked deliberately disheveled.
 

Reaching the hall bathroom, Merry noticed
Tara inside, working on her hair. It had already been well coifed, but Tara
still busied herself, styling it to look even better. Merry stopped in the
doorway. “You have a date?”

Tara twisted a strand and secured it into
an interesting clip. “After dinner. To study.”

Merry ventured closer. “That’s cute. Wish
I could get my hair to do stuff like that.”

“I got Mom’s hair,” Tara responded. “Good
thing. Dad’s is kind of gnarly.”

Merry thought about her own gene pool.
It was like diving into one of
those murky green swimming holes where you had no idea what was beneath the
surface, let alone who had taken a dip in it, or what they might have left in
the water. It wasn’t anything Merry talked about much, but something inside
told her that she should. “I don’t know whose hair I got. Never saw either one
of my parents.”

Tara stopped what she was doing and
turned to Merry. “No way.”

Merry confirmed it with a nod. “Way.
Never even knew their names.”

“That must be kind of weird,” Tara said.
“So, who named you?”

“Social Services,” Merry answered.
“Somebody found me, brand spanking newborn on the church steps Christmas
morning. That’s why they called me Merry. My last name, Hopper—they said that
was because I was left there in this coal hopper thing and...I guess it fit.”

Something in Tara seemed to soften, at
least momentarily. “Yeah, it fits. It does.”

Noticing the blank list Tara had taken
from Hayden on the counter, Merry picked it up. “You were just torturing Hayden
with this, right? You don’t really want to give her a big old nothing for
Christmas, do you?”

Tara’s face fell a bit. “Not like she
wants anything from me.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Merry encouraged.
“She might.”
 

Tara looked skeptical. “Like what? Did
she say something?”

Merry shook her head. “No, no. And I
can’t really put my finger on it yet, but...maybe you will. Maybe you’ll
surprise her.”

It took a moment or two, but Merry could
tell that Tara’s wheels had begun to turn. “Maybe,” she echoed. Tara took the
blank paper, left the bathroom and headed down the stairs toward the kitchen.

It was just a baby step, but Merry knew
it was progress, good progress for a first day. Merry leaned against the
doorjamb, savoring the small victory. She mouthed a happy
thanks
and
breathed a satisfied sigh.

♥    ♥    ♥

Downstairs,
Joan unloaded groceries as Tara passed through. “Honey, could you set the
table?”

“Sure,” Tara agreed. “Gramma, what do you
think of Merry?”