“Yeah. I guess I did.”
It’s only when I glance up from Mackenzie’s face that I realize we’re not in that small apartment anymore. We’re back in my office. My head swims a little—like vertigo. I sit down on the suede couch until it passes. I glance at my watch, and it’s the same time as before Mackenzie walked through my door. Still two hours to go before my conference.
“Do you know why I showed you this particular memory tonight?” Mackenzie asks me.
I snort. “To demonstrate I’m obviously more like my father than I ever realized?”
She shakes her head. “No. I showed you this because moments matter. You may not have remembered it, but it still played a part in who you grew up to be. And how you felt about Christmas, your dad, and in some ways, yourself. It’s the little things, all added together, that make us who we are. So now that you remember, what are you going to do, Uncle Drew?”
I rub the back of my neck. “I’ll . . . I’ll find a way to make it up to James after Christmas. Maybe take him to a basketball game for some quality time. Just the two of us.”
Mackenzie sighs. And she seems disappointed. It’s similar to how Kate looks at me when she comes home from the salon and I’m not excited by the fact that she trimmed off a whole quarter of an inch.
Like . . . I’m missing something.
“Well,” she laments, “it’s time for me to go.”
Even though I’m still sure this is a dream—I’m not taking any chances. “Hold on, sweetheart. I can’t leave yet. Hang out here with me and I’ll get you home when I’m done.”
She sits down on the couch. “Okay, Uncle Drew. Whatever you say.”
I head back around my desk, sit, and refocus all my attention on my presentation.
chapter 4
Mackenzie plays quietly on her phone while I work. She’s mature and considerate like that. After a half hour I glance at the couch to thank her—and see that she’s fucking gone.
I shoot to my feet. “Mackenzie?” When there’s no answer, I rush for the door. Flinging it open I call, “Mack—”
I actually said her full name, but you couldn’t hear it.
Because the blaring of “Angels We Have Heard on High” drowned out my voice. And if that wasn’t loud enough, there’s the echo of bells jingling in the background, the hum of a dozen audio-animatronic elves, reindeer and headless gingerbread men scattered around—and let’s not forget the crunch and whistle of falling snow.
Yes, actual snow—inside my goddamn office building.
The main floor outside the offices has been transformed into a winter wonderland.
I just stand there. Stunned.
But I have to say, this beats the shit out of anything the mall has ever come up with.
Then my sister, Alexandra, comes walking around the corner. She’s decked out in elegant holiday finery—a red, strapless satin dress, black heels, her hair piled high on her head, with a pearl tiara nestled in the blond curls.
She surveys the room. “God, I’m good.”
I cross my arms and lean back against a snow-covered desk. “A little overdone, don’t you think?”
Alexandra raises her shoulder. “If you can’t overdo Christmas, what can you overdo?” Then she regards me with bright green eyes.
And I deduce, “You’re not here to pick up your daughter, are you?”
“No, my daughter is safe and sound. Why do you think I’m here, little brother?”
“I’m starting to think it’s because every member of my family has been body snatched by green-eyed aliens hell-bent on keeping me from getting any fucking work done.”
She shakes her head. “Even your alien invasion theories are egomaniacal.”
I push off from the desk. “All right, let’s go. The sooner we do this, the sooner I can get back to my desk.” And I can’t keep the sarcasm out of my voice. “Show me your vision, Christmas ghost. Teach me the error of my ways.”
Alexandra scowls. And checks out her manicure. “Now I’m not in the mood.”
I grit my teeth. “Alexandra . . .”
“I don’t like to be rushed, Drew. You have to invest the time—smell the holly bush, get the full experience. I’m not some wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am.”
My face contorts. “I certainly hope not. That’s fucking gross.”
“The heavens have chosen to intercede on your behalf!” She stomps her foot. “To help you. A little gratitude would be nice.”
I pinch my nose, breathe deep, and compose myself. Because the spirit bitch is obviously in a tormenting mood, like a cat toying with a mouse before it’s devoured. Trying to wriggle out from under her paw will only prolong it. My best option is to just give in. Play dead.
Submit.
“I apologize for being flippant, Alexandra. Thank you for taking the time tonight to educate me. I’m truly fortunate to have a sister and heavenly angel who care so much for my emotional well-being.”
Her head bobs side to side, weighing my sincerity. “And do you like the decorations?” she asks petulantly.