Taste: A Love Story (22 page)

“I would love to go to Christmas Tree Lane with you. I’ll bring the blankets, food, and the truck. I can get out of here tonight by eight. Pick you up at nine?”

Kara nodded and he smiled and left. As he walked away, the entire restaurant, including the kitchen, broke into applause. He held up his hand in victory and all Kara could do was laugh. He wanted to kiss her—must not have seen much resistance from her—and so he did.

It wasn’t until a few minutes after the clapping died down that Kara even thought about the fact that someone could use that moment against her family again. But this time, she found she didn’t care.

Chapter Nineteen

J
ohn Woodbury, founder of the city of Altadena, California, planted 150 deodar trees along what later became Santa Rosa. Christmas Tree Lane was now considered a historic landmark and was in the US National Register of Historic Places.

Lying back on the blankets Logan had put in the bed of his truck and looking up at the strands of colorful lights, Logan was grateful to Mr. Woodbury. The trees were huge and the cool night air chilled Kara’s cheeks. She was all bundled up and could not have been more beautiful. He handed her a paper cup of hot chocolate he’d picked up on his way to get her. He wasn’t sure whether to look at her or the lights, but as he leaned back and warmed his hands on his own paper cup, he felt like a kid again. It seemed lately he felt that way around her.

“When John told his brother he wanted these trees planted, do you think his brother should have told him he was crazy? Do you think he should have mentioned it made more sense to build the house and then put the trees in? I mean, things fell out from under the housing market like what two or three years later and the guy never got to build his house.” Logan was still looking up at the enormous trees.

“But then we wouldn’t have the trees—we’d just have some other oversized house. I think it was romantic. He came home from his trip, wanted the trees, so he planted them.” Kara scooted closer to him.

“Yeah, but don’t you think the brother should have been honest with him? I mean he had to have known John’s plan didn’t make any sense.”

“Honesty.” Kara let out a breath. “No one really wants honesty. It’s a sound bite or a catch phrase, but real honesty is tough. There’s backlash.”

“Is that why you steer clear of the whole telling the truth business?”

Kara turned to look at him as their heads rested on the same pillow. She gave him what he clearly recognized as a warning, sipped her cocoa, and brought her focus back to the twinkling night.

“I remember the time I read some article in college about dysfunctional families.” Kara picked at the cardboard sleeve around her cup. “It outlined the roles in dysfunctional relationships and ways to deal with and fix those issues. I called my mom.”

“Oh boy.” Logan was already cringing for her, the young girl she used to be.

“Yeah, I told her I wanted to have lunch with both of them.”

“Where was Grady?”

“He was at school. I called him and told him. After.”

Logan touched her arm. “Probably should have done that first?”

“Yeah, hindsight, right? Anyway, I brought the article.”

Logan braced himself. He knew where this was headed.

“So, after my ‘little presentation,’ my father ordered another Scotch and my mother didn’t speak to me for almost a month.”

“There are varying degrees of honesty.”

“I know, but I thought I was helping. I thought they didn’t know and if I could just show them . . .” Kara started to laugh, noticing some cars as they drove past. “Jesus, I only wanted something I could touch, something to explain the void. Why we acted the way we did.”

Logan said nothing. They continued to admire the enormous trees dripping in multicolored lights.

“We normally go to Hastings Park for lights.” He was not so subtly changing the subject because even in the dark he could hear the sadness in her voice. “I mean we did when we were kids. This place is better.”

“I think it’s better because of the story.” Kara turned to him.

“Yeah, I guess that’s usually the case. The story—the history adds to things.”

She set her cup down and crawled on top of him and Logan lost all ability to speak. He gazed up at her wild hair tucked under a knit cap. Her cheeks were pink and the Christmas lights, mixed with the stars, veiled the whole scene. Logan had to focus on breathing.

“Was it something I said?” he asked when she leaned down and touched his face.

“No, I think it’s just you and these trees. It’s the blankets and being tucked in here with you. Logan?”

“Yeah?” His heart warmed his chest.

“Would you like to make out in the back of your truck?”

He laughed and pulled her under him so quickly she squealed. There she was laughing, relaxed, and he was certain the look in her eyes was the very best thing he’d seen in a long time. Before it disappeared with the rest of the Christmas magic, he kissed her. Out of sight, in the darkness of a December evening, just as she’d asked, they made out in the bed of his truck.

“Did you used to wait up for Santa when you were a kid?” Logan asked as he drove Kara home.

“Sure. Grady was in charge of keeping us both awake. This one year, we filled our bathroom sinks with ice and if one of us started to fall asleep we’d have to go put our face in the ice bath.” Kara shook her head. “He’s always been a little nuts.”

Without looking over, she could tell he was smiling.

“Despite all his crazy ideas, we never made it. We fell asleep before Santa came, every year. Did you wait up?” she asked.

“I know this is going to sound nuts, but I was the first one in bed.”

“Seriously?” Kara was more than a little surprised. She figured Logan, Garrett, and Makenna were all dedicated Santa watchers.

“I know. It’s weird, but I didn’t want to do anything that would make him change his mind. I used to get so pissed at Garrett because he was always thinking up booby traps or weird stuff and Makenna was like his little helper.” He enjoyed the memory.

“So you went to bed early? How did you fall asleep? That was the hardest part. The excitement of it all, that’s what got me.”

“I don’t know. We’d get in our pajamas after dinner, watch
How the Grinch Stole Christmas
, the old cartoon version, and after that I went to bed. I told myself if I didn’t fall asleep, there was a chance I’d still be awake when Santa came and I’d miss out.”

“Maybe it was The Grinch. That’s a pretty powerful, don’t-mess-with-Christmas message.” She smiled and glanced over at his face in the glow of the dashboard light.

“Maybe.” Logan laughed.

“Did you leave cookies?” she asked.

“Of course, and carrots for the reindeer.”

They rode, listening to the faint Christmas carols on the radio, giddy in their childhood memories. It occurred to Kara that both she and Logan were rooted in their families. Sure they were different, but there wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do for hers and she knew he felt the same way. Every family had traditions; her Nana had always said they were “the glue that held a family together even when we couldn’t stand each other.” She was right.

Maybe it was the holiday season, maybe it was that she had just made out with Logan and had hot chocolate. She wasn’t sure, but Kara knew one thing for certain as they turned up her street. If she ever decided to make traditions of her own, if she ever wanted to bake cookies and tiptoe around her house putting presents under a glowing Christmas tree in the middle of the night, she wanted that with him. She had never been sure “normal” was possible for her, but she had feelings now that were impossible to ignore. They told her that things could actually be exactly as they should be in her life. There was no one size fits all. She and Logan could have their own story. It could be that she would wake up tomorrow morning in the throes of a panic attack, but at that moment none of her feelings scared her. They seemed more natural than most things in her life up to that point.

“Thank you,” she said.

“You’re welcome.” Logan turned off his truck. “I had a great time.”

“Me too.” She turned and he leaned across to her.

The cab of his truck was warm and when Logan’s lips touched hers, Kara sank into the most luxurious kiss. Her hand touched the side of his face and he shifted closer. She wondered if she would ever tire of kissing him. Had Bill and Rosemary Barbus tired of each other when they were growing old together in what was now Logan’s house? Kara didn’t think so; she was certain they had moments they weren’t happy and maybe even some scary times, but that was life, wasn’t it?

Logan came around and opened the door of the truck for her. As she slid down his body and her feet hit the driveway, she wanted to invite him in, wanted to wake up wrapped in him, but she hadn’t been with a man in a very long time and all the questions came flooding back. How would this change things? What about her job? What if it didn’t work out or he felt differently than she did? Just walking to the door, she could already feel her previously predicted anxiety attack, so in the end she kissed him goodnight and that was it. His cold nose touched her cold nose and Kara wondered if maybe she was a little too old for Christmas wishes.

Chapter Twenty

K
ara turned in the second part of her feature on The Yard before she left the office early on Christmas Eve day. Olivia seemed pleased and of course, noticing the photography, made another awkward sexual reference to Jeremy and his “great angles.” Kara had thought about bringing this to Olivia’s attention on more than one occasion, but just as when someone has spinach in their teeth and they say they want to know, it’s still super awkward when someone actually has to tell them.

They sat in Olivia’s office and exchanged Christmas gifts, well, their version of Christmas gifts. Every year they bought each other obscenely expensive shoes. Their mutual affection for shoes had started back when Olivia interviewed Kara for the job. Kara was coming from
Los Angeles
magazine, where she wrote a small column on desserts for their food section. She also had a blog on food where she took recipes and scaled them down for the single woman. “Rather than having to cook something for four,” Kara explained in the interview, “single women can go to my blog and see recipes tailored for one.” Olivia had liked her, but she expressed concern that Kara didn’t have enough experience and she also wondered if the Malendar name would create issues.

“I can do this job,” Kara had said. “I’m writing about food, it’s not like this is politics, so my family shouldn’t be an issue.”

Olivia agreed, but was still hesitant. “I don’t want to hire someone who, let’s face it, doesn’t really need the job, only to have you up and leave in a year.”

Kara still didn’t know what got into her that day. She’d been desperate to have something for herself, so she blurted out, “Keep my shoes. If I leave before a year, they’re yours.”

It was the most absurd thing she had ever said. She was certain she’d lost the opportunity, but when she stood to leave Olivia asked, “Are those Ferragamos?”

“Yes.” Kara had been so nervous. “I just bought them yesterday for the interview.”

Grady was always telling her to “go for it.” In these situations, her Nana liked to say, “Grab that bull by the horns,” and when Olivia Palm, editor of the food section for the
Los Angeles Times
, held out her hand for Kara’s shoes, she knew she’d made them both proud. Kara had left the office wearing the pedicure flip-flops she’d kept in her purse that day and got her tortoise-colored Ferragamos back on her one-year anniversary.

“Such a shame,” Olivia had said, giving them back to her. “Would have made me a very nice Christmas present.” And that was it, the idea that started it all. Kara and Olivia had exchanged six pairs of obscenely expensive shoes since and Kara’s seventh pair, Jimmy Choos in gunmetal suede, was sitting on the seat next to her as she drove home. Olivia had slipped into her new Michael Kors black leather booties, with silver zippers up the back, before she’d even left her office. Kara liked traditions, and this one was fun. Traditions truly did have a way of bringing people together, even if those people were as different as Kara and Olivia.

Midnight Mass at St. Andrew’s Church in downtown Pasadena was a tradition dating back to when Kara was five and Grady was six. Their parents had a Christmas Eve party every year, so Nana took them for the day, then to Midnight Mass, and then home to their beds before Christmas morning. Now that Nana was gone, she and Grady went every year, not because they were particularly religious, but because their Nana was and it was tradition. As Kara climbed in the car Grady had sent for her, she remembered going to church as a child in velvet and tights. Her Nana wore a fur back before fur went the way of cigarettes. Kara loved church, even as a kid, mostly because it was just the three of them. Their grandfather had died before they were born, so all of the memories were of Nana alone. She lived in a beautiful old home only two blocks from where they grew up, so Kara and Grady spent a lot of time with her. When Nana got sick, she moved into a smaller condominium and eventually watched her Wednesday and Sunday service on the television. She would have the programs mailed to the house and Kara remembered propping her up with pillows and playing pretend iron while Nana prayed the rosary and Grady asked questions about the stories in her Bible.