Page 18 of Storybook Christmas

8

Holi-Fake Date

IN THE LARGE, top-floor ballroom of the law offices of Callahan & Callahan, Finn and I are greeted by an exquisite Christmas tree adorned in gold. We enter the space that’s buzzing with blue jazz music and the chatter of attorneys dressed in designer suits and cocktail dresses. Massive golden vases are the ostentatious centerpieces at each table, and the stocked bar’s fit for a VIP room in Vegas.

I loop my arm through Finn’s and take a deep breath.

“You’ve got this,” he whispers.

Why is it when he says that I believe him? Maybe it’s thewayhe says it, like he believes it. I think he does.

“Thanks.” I manage a smile.

We make our way up to the table where my sister, Eleanor, and her husband, Harrison Warner—top of his class at Yale law, and now, State’s Attorney of Fulton County—both sit.

“Hey, Harrison, Eleanor.” I smile. “Where should we sit?”

I look around their table, which has purses and drinks at every seat, including my parents’ belongings.

“Oh, Lace. Hey,” Eleanor says, her tone an octave too high. “So, Mom assigned you a seat over there.” My eyes follow the direction of her point to see a table with a lone guy who’s attractive, about my age. Eleanor whispers when she says, “You didn’t tell Mom you were bringing someone.”

“It was kinda last-minute,” I utter.

“Got it.” Eleanor stands and approaches Finn with a goofy grin. “I’m Eleanor Callahan-Warner.”

“Finn Hayes.” He puts on his best smile, which is so charming, it’s almost painful.

“Finn works at Sutton & Sutton too,” I say, proud. “He came up with the concept for a children’s book, and they hired a ghostwriter for it.”

“Wow.” Eleanor blinks. “So, you work on little books too?”

“Children’s books are actually quite large. The one I’m working on right now is eight by ten.”

I hold back a laugh. That’s Eleanor these days—pushing buttons. And Finn handled it like a champ.

Eleanor flashes me an approving glance. “You’ve found yourself a spunky one.”

“Yeah, he is.” I flash him a look. “Smart, too.”

“Lacy.” My father approaches us.

“Finn, this is Charles, my father. Dad, this is Finn.”

“Nice to meet you, Finn.” My dad shakes Finn’s hand. “So, what do you do?”

And that’s Dad, cutting right to the chase.

“I work on little books with Lacy.” Finn smiles.

“Great.” My dad clasps his hands. “Well, enjoy yourselves. I have to greet the seventh-district judge who just walked in the door.” He rushes off.

My mom bustles over, the chiffon of her Oscar de la Renta gold and white gown trailing behind her like a pearly mist. “I’m Barbara,” she chirps, putting her hand out, wide-eyed, as she gives Finn an up and down assessment.

After I introduce them, Mom says, “Well, Finn, we’d have saved you a spot at the table if we knew you were coming. Or that you existed.” She sighs dramatically. “So, since we’re not able to sit and get to know each other, I’ll get right to it. Charles and I want grandchildren, and Eleanor’s made it clear she isn’t having any.”

“Mom!” Eleanor barks.

“Yeah, Mom,” I add, groaning.

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