Private 09 - Paradise Lost (18 page)

Once we had finished eating and everyone had gathered in the living room, Mrs. Lange took out a silver sack with a gold rope ribbon around the neck and held it up. "Everyone ready?"

No one said a word. They simply looked up at her expectantly. I saw a sudden flash of a kindergarten class, waiting for the teacher to begin story time.

"Okay. Someone has got to tell me what is going on," I whispered to Kiran, who was seated on the white leather couch to my right.

"It's a system she came up with when we were about six years old," Kiran whispered back.

"She couldn't deal with the mayhem of all the kids attacking the tree, looking for their presents, so she lets one person go at a time, and that person gives out all their gifts. When everyone's done opening, the next name is selected from the bag."

"Wow. Fun," I said sarcastically.

"It's a Lange family Christmas," Noelle said with a tight smile.

"I hope my name's not in there. I only got small gifts, and they're just for you guys," I whispered to Noelle.

"Don't worry. I let my mom know to keep your name out," she replied.

"Our first Santa of the day is . . . Kiran!" Mrs. Lange said, showing everyone the ceramic tile with Kiran's name written on it in silver script.

"Yay!" Kiran said, clapping her hands as she got up.

She pulled out a huge black shopping bag out from behind the tree and started to hand out boxes from inside.

"You didn't have to get me anything," I said to Kiran as she passed me a package. "You already bought me clothes and got me a free couture gown for Casino Night."

"I did do that, didn't I? Oh well. Spirit of the season and all that," she said, lifting one shoulder and dropping the gift in my lap.

Once everyone had a present, we all tore into them with the vigor of people who had been forced to wait an inordinate amount of time with a wrapped gift. I pulled out a pair of calfskin Gucci gloves and slipped them right on. They fit perfectly and were insanely cozy. I saw that Taylor, Tiff, and Noelle had all received the same pair in different colors, while the guys had opened boxes with leather Fendi driving gloves. I wondered if Kiran picked out the gifts herself or if they were freebies from some of her designer friends. I imagined it was the latter, which made me feel better about the fact that I'd gotten her a tiny trinket box from one of the arty gift shops back in Easton. Everyone chorused their thank yous as Kiran sat down next to me again.

"Kiran, these are too much," I said.

She clucked her tongue. "You are about to be showered with a ton of gifts that are way too much," she said. "You can't respond that way every time, so just.. . get used to it." Point taken. I smiled at Kiran as Mrs. Lange called out the next name. "Dash!" Dash pushed himself up from his chair and gathered a few boxes from under the tree. The rest of the morning proceeded in much the same away, each name being called in turn, everyone shouting thank yous and you 're welcomes and glad you like its. Soon I had a pile of presents at my feet--a Thread sweater, a Tracy Reese top, a set of stacking rings from Tiffany, a Longchamp bag. Amberly gave me a lifetime Carma Card--something she'd given to me once before, then stolen back from my room. I wasn't sure if it was a gesture of apology or some kind of dig (an obviously free gift), so I just said a quick thank you and shoved it in the box with the gloves. Dash got me a gift card from Hollister, which was about the safest thing in the world, thank goodness. He gave Noelle a pair of diamond-and-ruby earrings-ruby was her birthstone. I could tell she was trying hard not to look impressed.

"Wallace," Mrs. Lange called out.

Mr. Lange got up with a stack of white envelopes and started to distribute them. He handed one to Taylor, one to Kiran . . . and then he passed me by. I felt a sting and glanced at Noelle, who looked embarrassed. She shrugged and shot a look at her father's retreating back, like she might smack him upside the head later. Why would her father hand out gifts to everyone but me?

"Peninsula Spa? That is so incredible! Thank you Mr. Lange," Taylor said. Everyone had received spa gift certificates to exclusive spots in whatever city they lived in.

'You're welcome," Mr. Lange said, lifting a stack of silver boxes from under the tree. He walked over to his wife and handed one of the boxes to her, then gave the next to Noelle, and then gave the third . . . tome.

"What-"

It was the only word that came out. I was too surprised to formulate what I was thinking. Noelle looked as confused as I felt. Meanwhile, Mrs. Lange already had opened up her box and gasped.

"Wallace! It's lovely!" It was a white reptile-skin purse, which she already had slung over her shoulder. "Thank you," she said, getting up and offering him a quick kiss.

"You're welcome," he said.

Instantly, Kiran and Taylor started whispering. I could tell by the reactions of the other women in the room that there was something special about this bag. My throat was dry as I looked down at my gift, wondering what I'd done to deserve a box instead of an envelope. Noelle finally shrugged.

"Go ahead," she said.

We both opened our boxes. Inside were two more bags identical to her mother's. Noelle's was red and mine was a gorgeous rust color.

"Holy crap. You got her a Kelly bag?" Kiran blurted, grabbing for my new purse. Everyone laughed in a nervous way.

"Wow, Daddy," Noelle said, eyeing my gift. "That was . . . unnecessary."

"Noelle," her father admonished.

"No. She's right," I said. I didn't know, exactly, what the significance of this bag was, but it was clearly huge. "I don't know what to say."

Noelle's father squared his shoulders and placed his hands in his pockets. "Well, you're Noelle's best friend and, from what I understand, you've had a . . . rough time. I thought you deserved something nice." For a moment no one said anything. "Hell, it's Christmas," he said with a laugh. "What's Christmas without a few surprises?"

"Hear, hear!" Upton's father cheered, lifting his glass and rousing everyone else to do the same, which thankfully seemed to break the tension.

Noelle got up and hugged her father. "Thanks, Daddy," she said with a genuine smile. Now that she knew the thinking behind the gift, she was clearly touched that he'd gone to the trouble.

"Yes. Thank you. Really. It's amazing," I said. I wasn't sure if I should get up or hug him or what, so I just stayed sort of frozen on the couch, gazing up at him like he was the real Santa Claus.

"You're welcome," he said. Then he cleared his throat and looked around. "Who's next?" Noelle's mother called the next name as I wrested my new bag from Kiran's hungry grasp. It was a gorgeous bag, and I made a mental note to write Mr. Lange a formal thank you. Gradually, we settled back into the rhythm of the gift giving. I noticed that the Hathaways'

names were never called and wondered what that was about, but it seemed impolite to ask. Finally, it was Tiffany's turn. She gave all of us photos from the shoot the day before, set in simple glass frames. The one she gave to me was a black-and-white shot of me and Tiffany, hugging each other against the cold as the water lapped at our feet, the shoreline stretching out forever in the background. It was a beautiful picture.

"We both look like supermodels," I said.

"My father, the genius," she replied with a grin.

So modest. The girl could have been a supermodel--I thought she was even prettier than Kiran. But Tiffany was a behind-the-camera type of girl.

"Hey. What's that? " Kiran asked, pointing at a black smudge in the background.

I lifted the photo close to my face and my heart skipped a beat. It was a person. Some lone figure standing up the beach.

"Oh my God," I said, breathless.

"What?" Noelle asked, leaning in.

"I knew I wasn't imagining things. Someone is watching me," I said, handing her the picture. Noelle squinted at it. "So? It could be anyone. Someone out for a stroll on the beach."

"Not possible," Tiffany said, leaning in and holding her champagne glass at a safe distance. "That's a private beach and my dad paid through the nose to have the police make sure no one disturbed the shoot. Whoever that is, they had to get by police barricades to get down there."

Great, so not only a stalker, but a determined stalker.

"It looks like light hair," Taylor said, grabbing the picture from Noelle. My heart skipped a beat and I looked at them, wide-eyed. "What if it's Poppy?" They all cracked up laughing. "And what, she's stalking you because you stole Upton?"

"Um, hello? It's not like that hasn't happened to me before!" I pointed out. They all fell silent and looked away.

"Reed, Poppy is off the island," Noelle said finally. "The Simon Says was gone, remember?"

"So what? Maybe she took it out and then docked it somewhere else on the island. Or maybe she just let it go out to sea so it would look like she was off the island," I spit-balled. "There's no way to know that she's definitely not here somewhere."

"Here. Let me see that," Tiffany said, snatching away the frame. She went over to her father, who was standing near the wall watching Tiff's little sister play with some new handheld video game. Her dad checked out the photo, then nodded.

"He says he'll try to clean it up later on the computer, and he'll see if he can get the figure in focus," Tiffany said, returning to us and handing the frame back to me. "If someone is watching us, hopefully we'll figure it out."

"And that's it! We're done!" Mrs. Lange announced, lifting her perpetually full mimosa glass. "Merry Christmas, everyone."

I stared down at the blurry figure, my heart choking my throat. Merry Christmas, indeed.

CHAPTER 29 AN APOLOGY

Once the gift-opening ceremony was through, the room descended into happy, relaxed chatter. I stashed the photo underneath my pile of gifts and got up to talk to Upton. But before I could make a move, Sawyer appeared, out of nowhere, at my elbow.

"Can I talk to you?" he asked.

My eyes darted to Noelle, who eyed us curiously. "Um, sure." Sawyer led me across the great room and into the dining room, where all our dishes already had been cleared away and the table had been wiped to a shine. He walked over to the back wall and looked out the window at the ocean. I stayed on the far side of the table, hesitant.

"I wanted to say I'm sorry," he told the window, his arms crossed over the starched white shirt his father probably had forced him to wear. "About last night."

"Oh," I said, my hand on the back of Mrs. Lange's chair. "That's okay."

"I'm sure you've heard. About my sister," he said, glancing briefly over his shoulder at me.

"Of course, in this group, you've heard."

'Yeah," I said, feeling guilty, even though I'd done nothing wrong.

"This is my first Christmas without her," he told me. "I think I'm having a hard time." God. Of course he was having a hard time. Why hadn't that occurred to me before? I walked around the table and joined him at the window.

"It's okay. I understand," I said.

He looked over at me. In the sunlight, I could see that his eyes were actually gray and flecked with brown. Very unusual and beyond beautiful. Sawyer was really handsome. I suddenly recalled how I had mistaken him for Upton that first day, and wondered why the girls refused to take him seriously as a potential hookup. Maybe he was brooding, but brooding was attractive. Or was that just me?

"Anyway, here. This is for you," he said, pulling something out of his pocket. "Thanks for including me. Or trying to."

He held out a tiny white shell on a black cord. A necklace. Clearly one he'd made himself.

"You didn't have to do this," I said, touched nonetheless.

"Just take it," he said shortly.

I blushed. "I didn't mean to--"

He glanced past me. Upton had just walked into the room.

I slipped the shell into the pocket of my skirt, then wondered why I'd felt the need to do that.

"I should go," Sawyer said.

Then he ducked his head and walked around the table, turning sideways to get past Upton.

"Hang on a sec, Sawyer," Upton said, placing his hand on Sawyer's shoulder. "I haven't had a chance to say happy Christmas."

Red blotches appeared on Sawyer's cheeks. "Sure, whatever."

"What's up with you?" Upton asked, a hint of a downturn in his cheery smile. "You've barely said a word all week."

"It's nothing," Sawyer said. "Would you mind letting go of me? I'd like to get back to my family."

Upton lifted both hands as if in surrender, and Sawyer quickly rushed off. As soon as he was gone, Upton whistled quietly.

"He's always been standoffish, but this year he's taking it to a whole new level," he said.

"Don't take it personally. I think he's just upset about his sister," I said. Upton frowned for a moment, and then shook his head. "Of course. I should have guessed." He held open the door, a forced smile on his face. "Well, shall we? My mum wants to check out your handbag."

As Upton put his hand on the small of my back and steered me into the living room, I reached into my skirt pocket and ran my fingers along the shell's smooth edges. Now that I knew Sawyer was struggling with the memory of his sister, I was more determined than ever to see the guy smile.

CHAPTER 30 PITY PARTY

That night, after private Christmas dinners with their families, the crew gathered on the beach in front of the Simon Hotel to get hammered around a huge bonfire. Apparently an entire day spent with parents, stepparents, and siblings made these people feel the need to drink themselves silly. Luckily, my family was a million miles away, so I felt no such compulsion. Instead, I got to sit back in the sand and watch all my friends get progressively messier, while I obsessed about my blurry stalker and whether or not Poppy might still be on the island. Good times.

"This is the year!" Gage shouted, standing in front of the bonfire and holding up a bottle of beer in each hand. His burgundy shirt was unbuttoned, but his tie was still knotted around his neck. "This is the year I get you girls to take off your shirts for the best boob contest!"