Page 51 of Stocking Stuffers
* * *
The turnoutfor the Soiree was rocking. Perry had wondered if the crowd would be smaller than usual, since so many people had lost shopping days during the snow-pocalypse. He’d worried that people would opt for a night at the mall rather than a romantic evening at the local inn.
But couples littered the property like pairs of turtledoves or, in some cases, triads of French hens. He offered a tray of wine and chocolate to two men that were cuddled up in the hearth room as the retro band Valerie hired, Cherry and the Pits, struck up a rendition of“Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.”
Both men declined the wine, though one of them took a chocolate-covered strawberry, as they stood up to dance right there in the hearth room. That had been one of the most fascinating parts of this party to Perry when he was a child and spying on the party guests. People slow-danced anywhere and everywhere on the grounds, as if they were so moved by the romance, by the magic of Christmas, by each other, that they just had to hold each other and swayright then.
A vision of dancing with Sasha in the attic to Eartha Kitt,of undressing with Sasha to Eartha Kitt, hit Perry so suddenly it was like a physical punch. He smiled at the men, then moved back into the kitchen where he was essentially alone.
He pressed his palms into the cold granite countertop and hung his head.
Shake it off. Let it go.
She wasn’t yours to keep.
The smoky voice of the lead singer of Cherry and the Pits transitioned between songs with a bit of mellow banter. The sound soothed Perry.
He moved back toward the formal dining room. The flicker of the candlelight chased him through the house. The other lights in the house were dimmed except for the strings on the Christmas trees and garland. It lent the house a romantic air.
He caught sight of his sister talking with a glowing Louise near one of the large windows. Their heads were close together, secret smiles shared between them.
Cherry and the Pits began a slow, melancholy version of his favorite Christmas song—“I’ll Be Home For Christmas.” The lead singer started the song acapella, her sweet voice floating through the house. Couples danced all around Perry, so he squeezed into a corner of the room and closed his eyes. Once the piano joined the singer’s voice, Perry’s breath caught. It was beautiful.
Moving, slow, and almost sad.
She stopped singing, but the piano accompaniment continued. And it was perfect.
Perry kept his eyes shut and let the music wash over him.
“Hi, everyone,” a voice filtered through the mic, the pianist still playing in the background.
Perry jerked off the wall and nearly knocked over a wrought-iron candelabra. His heart lurched into his throat.
Sasha.
This felt like a trick or a bad twist of fate. Was he being Christmas Punk’d?
Didn’t matter. He ate Sasha up with his eyes. She was wearing a vintage-y dark green satin dress with a full, knee-length skirt. Her hair was styled up into a pompadour with winterberries clipped behind her ear. She was feminine, and edgy, and retro all at once, and his heart broke at how much seeing her soothed his soul.
“I’m Sasha. I pulled a big favor in order to be standing up here, so thank you for indulging me. I should have worn a Scrooge costume, but Dame Winterberry herself—Ms. Valerie—vetoed that. See, I hate Christmas.”
Movement on the edge of his vision pulled his attention away. It was Valerie and Louise scooting closer to him through the crowd. The music was playing in the background, soft and expressive, almost a bluesy version of the song.
“What’s happening?” he whispered to his sister. She shushed him with a grin and a wink.
“Let me put it this way,” Sasha continued. “IhatedChristmas until I met a wonderful man who is the epitome of the holiday season. He’s everything that’s special about it. He’s cheerful, jolly, and sweet as spiced eggnog. He makes me want to ride a sleigh, and ice skate, and window shop while holding hands in the snow. All these clichés that seemed so silly before, now seem essential, if only I get to do them with him. He sees the potential of the season, he believes in love and romance, and good Lord, his lips deserve a constant sprig of mistletoe, let me tell you.”
Perry finally allowed himself to move from his perch in the corner. Everyone parted for him to walk to the front, watching him curiously. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.
She smiled at him. “But I screwed it up because when he asked me for a date, when he told me he wanted to make this Christmas my best Christmas, I told himno.”
Joy welled up inside him.
This was a grand gesture. Sasha was grand gesturing for him.
“Perry, I regret telling youno. I was scared. I’d like that date, please. I have it all planned out. First things first, we’ll go to this crazy romantic party thrown at this ridiculously cozy B and B because I can’t imagine enjoying this with anyone, except you. With you, it’ll be spectacular. With you, I think anything would be spectacular.”
The crowd chuckled appreciatively at her joke. He was at the front of the crowd now. She stepped away from the microphone, and he gently lifted her down from the stage. He vaguely heard cheers as he caught her beautiful face in his hands and kissed her like it was raining mistletoe.
