Page 14 of Kiss Me at Christmas
Harriet hadn’t had the energy to go back into work after the police station. She’d made a quick call to Ali, who confirmed that all the students were present, correct, and looking decidedly sheepish, and demanded the skinny on what had gone down. Then she emailed HR, claiming she had a migraine and needed to take the afternoon off, and came home, where she collapsed on the sofa. She was not a woman prone to calling in sick, even when she was actually sick, but today had been exceptional.
Despite her supposed migraine, Cornell had called her three more times before the end of the school day. The first was to ask her to put together a phased-return plan for a student who had been absent with anxiety; the second was to chase a report he’d delegated her to write on his behalf to the governor’s board; and the third was to ask where his stapler was. One of these days he’d delegate himself right out of a job.
Over tumblers of cranberry juice and bowls of vegetable chow mein, Emma extracted as much information as she could about Harriet’s night with James and her brush with the law.
“So, do you like him?” Emma asked, slurping up a long brown noodle.
“I did last night, and then I didn’t, and now I don’t know.”
“But you fancy him.”
“He is irritatingly hot, in a high-end-funeral-director kind of way.”
“Right.”
“But he’s mean. He knew I was freaked out with the whole police thing, but instead of being compassionate, he was petulant. What a baby! Sure, I behaved immaturely, but I’m out of practice at waking up in a strange bed. I haven’t had a one-night stand since I was thirty, and believe me when I tell you, I don’t look as good when I wake up as I did when I was thirty.”
“Me neither. It takes my face at least an hour to decrumple and that’s if I haven’t been drinking. Throw a few glasses of vino into the mix and my skin looks like I’ve slept in a food dehydrator.”
Harriet waved her fork in agreement. “Exactly. And my eyes were puffed up, and I hadn’t brushed my teeth for obvious reasons before I went to sleep. When I got home, I found a hair like a hog bristle poking out of my chin. So I was basically a horror show. It would have been like waking up with a gorgon.”
Emma spluttered into her cranberry juice.
“You never know, he might have been beastly too. How old is he?”
“I don’t know, late forties? But it’s different for men, isn’t it?”
“Not in the morning. Pete looks like he’s been dead in the water for two days when he wakes up.”
Now Harriet laughed.
“You’re so mean. James Knight probably wakes up looking like a catalog model. I think he might be made by Mattel.”
“Or is the reason he jumped up and rushed into the shower because he looks like Leatherface before he’s moisturized?”
“I’ll never know now, will I?” Harriet plucked an escaped bean sprout out of her cleavage and threw it intoher mouth. “How is it I always manage to get food down my tits? It’s like a disorder.”
“Nah, I’m the same. I found a corn flake in mine when I took my bra off the other night. It must have been in there since breakfast. My bra is the adult equivalent of one of those baby bibs with a catcher tray.”
Harriet lived in a flat above the local library, which never ceased to make her happy. Her sitting room had high ceilings, picture rails, and large sash windows that looked out over the park. An original cast-iron Victorian fireplace dominated the living room, and above it hung a modest flat-screen TV. Facing each other on opposite sides of the fireplace were two sofas covered in William Morris print scatter cushions. Harriet and Emma had a sofa each, the fire crackling between them and Miss Marple gently sleuthing—regardless of being ignored—on the screen above.
“Have you got his number?” Emma asked, smooshing a whole prawn cracker into her mouth.
“Nope. I didn’t think to get it last night, and I was too annoyed at him to ask today. And I left a cardigan at his place.”
“Which one?”
“Third favorite.”
Emma sucked in a sharp breath. “I’m so sorry. At least it wasn’t first favorite.”
She sighed. “I suppose.” Her first-favorite cardigan only came out for very special occasions. “Oh god!” A fresh wave of humiliation washed over her. “What must he think of me? First, I behave in the exact way that I’ve always sneered at men for, and then I get caught trespassing.”
“Who cares? It’s done now and there’s no reason why you should see each other again.”
“I guess. Although he did say I’d have to sign another contract.” Was it weird that she kind of did want to see him again? He was the first man she’d really gelled with in a long time. If only she hadn’t panicked this morning, things might have worked out differently. She might have stayed for breakfast and then called in sick at work (to be fair, this was unlikely) and they’d have spent the day together (even more unlikely) and she’d never have known that her students were AWOL or followed them into that cursed theater…
“I hope you’re going to make those students help with the cleanup.”
