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“Wait, Ms. Dubois,” Betty Ann broke in. “The children are still in choir practice right now. You’re a bit early.”
“Well, can’t they practice the songs second today instead of first?”
“Well, no, not really.”
“And why would that be?” Dallas demanded impatiently.
“Some of the children only come for the choir practice. Once we’re finished, they can go on home while the rest of the children stay for play rehearsal. It won’t be long, okay?” Betty Ann didn’t wait for an answer. She began to round the children up and head them down the hall off stage left to the choir room.
“Wait. Wait, please. Now, I’m a little confused. Am I the director or are you the director, Ms. Betty Ann?”
“Well, of course you are in charge,” replied Betty Ann, stunned. “But this is what works best for the children, Ms. Dubois. Is this a problem for you?” Her voice was almost sickly sweet, and she was smiling back at Dallas as if she could take her down with one little flick of the wrist. Betty Ann was an old-school Southern belle, schooled in the way of all good Southern women who smiled while they were ripping your head off, slowly. Or choking you with their string of pearls. It took quite a woman to intimidate Dallas, but suddenly she wasn’t so sure she was up for a fight.
“Of course not, but I just wanted to be clear so I know my responsibilities,” Dallas said, backing down. The whole take-charge attitude wasn’t really working at the moment.
“Wonderful. I knew I could count on you,” Betty Ann said, grinning as she took the children on to the choir room.
With the children off the stage, Dallas wandered around the set. It was precious, really, with little candy-cane streetlights and fake snow atop all the rooflines. A life-size gingerbread house sat in the corner, complete with Twizzler candies and gumdrop trimmings. Dallas was lost in the memories of her early childhood, where she stood singing on that very stage in a long-ago Christmastime production. She smiled briefly, softening in her recollection.
The set was actually too perfect—since when Dallas took her next step, she lost her footing on the stairs down the trap door, which was concealed by a carefully arranged pile of fake snow. Unable to steady herself, she fell right to the bottom, twisting her ankle on the way down. She was in a lot of pain, but still she was thankful that no one was around to see her in an embarrassed heap at the bottom of the stairs, her cream-colored dress dirty with dark marks and shoe prints from the wooden stage steps.
She tried to get up, but her ankle was hurt terribly. Suddenly, she heard someone walking across the stage. She thought it must be Cal and hurriedly tried to get up again. He couldn’t see her like this. She’d managed to shift only slightly to the side when she looked up to notice a cute little pudgy boy was standing at the top of the steps looking down at her. His mop of dark curly hair hung loosely around blue eyes that stared down at her.
“Ms. Dubois, are you okay? Do you need help?” he asked.
“No, I’m fine,” she said dismissively, her cheeks aflame. “Just go back to class. What are you doing out here anyway?” She hated feeling even remotely vulnerable and wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to break that habit, even when the most adorable little boy was looking into her eyes.
“I was going to the potty and I saw you fall down,” he said. Just then, Cal appeared next to him.
“Need some help?” he asked with a smirk.
“No, actually, I’m fine. Now, both of you just go. Really. I’m fine.”
“Well, are you plannin’ on stayin’ there long? The kids’ll be back here pretty soon to get started,” Cal said with his hands on his hips.
“Yes. Go. Really.” She winced as she tried to pull herself up, regretting the five-inch boots that, she admitted to herself, weren’t exactly the proper footwear for directing a children’s play.
“Go! Both of you.” She winced again.
“Come on, don’t be so stubborn. Can you just let me help you?” But Cal didn’t wait for a response. He skipped down the stairs and slipped his arm under hers and his other arm around her waist and helped her up. He was inches from her face. This was the very position she had promised herself to never be in again. The one she’d found herself in at the hospital when she’d been covering the birth of baby Tallulah. It was that dangerous spot that made her unable to think. Made her heart quicken and her palms sweat. His gray-green eyes fixed on hers, she could feel his breath on her face.
It didn’t seem to matter that they really didn’t get along; being that close stirred something inside her, made her feel a spark. And by the look in his eyes, she bet he felt it, too.
But she couldn’t even begin to think about that right now. Instead, she pushed away from him and began dusting herself off. She moved toward the stairs and tentatively climbed to the top, moving slowly on her tender ankle.
Cal followed closely behind her, and the little boy was still waiting on stage when she made it to the top. He reached out a small hand to Dallas, but she only shook her head.
“Thanks, but I’m fine. Go on back to class, uhm...” She didn’t know the child’s name yet.
“Tristan,” he smiled sweetly. “Tristan Brooks is my name.”
“Well, go back to choir, Tristan. Now.”
“Ms. Dubois,” he said, “Why don’t you like us?”
Dallas stopped fixing herself and stood in the silence. Cal looked at her with his eyebrows raised, apparently as interested in her answer as Tristan. She swallowed hard and cleared her throat, but before she could answer, the little boy ran off, disappearing into the darkness off stage. She gave herself a final dust-off, then smiled a forced grin at Cal and limped off to the ladies’ room.
In the bathroom, she sat down on an antique couch by the makeup mirrors and took off her boots. Her right ankle looked bruised and a tad swollen. She stood on it with all her weight. It hurt, but she decided it was just twisted. It felt good to be barefoot on the cold tile floor.
Then a knock.
“Hey, Dallas. The kids are coming back.” It was Cal. Was he worried about her?
“Okay, I’ll be right there,”
“Can you walk?” he asked through the door.
“I most certainly can.” She couldn’t help her tone—it came out snippy before she could even think about it. “Uh, thanks, though,” she added.
“Sure.” She could hear him walk away.
Her palms were still sweaty. Her heart was still jumping. If there would never be anything between them, she was going to have to learn to tone down her reactions to him along with everything else. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t shake that image of his face so close to hers.
8
Dallas arrived back at her place that evening and turned on the fireplace. It was a gas fireplace, so all you had to do was click on a switch and the flame appeared like magic. She had set up her little Christmas tree, the same one she had used for the past several years, in the corner next to the front window where the little twinkling lights could be seen from the street—though nothing would compete with the glaring monstrosity that was her neighbor’s decorations. She changed into some comfortable clothes, poured herself a glass of wine and flicked on the TV. Then she sank into the couch with a bag of frozen peas from the freezer on her swollen ankle.
Wilhelmina snuggled up next to her fuzzy socks, eventually creeping up to Dallas’s lap. The two of them sat together watching her favorite Christmas channel—Hallmark movies. You couldn’t beat those at Christmastime.
Alone in her house, Dallas let her walls come down. With her precious cat asleep on her lap, she felt safe and at peace from the frantic life she lived outside. She could take a break from the façade she constructed in front of the public. Here, she didn’t have to be tough or abrasive, cold or stoic. In the safe confines of her home, she was soft and romantic and longed for closeness. But she didn’t trust anyone with that side of her anymore. Not anyone but Wilhelmina. She sat comfortably, dozing early.
It was barely 7:30 p.m. when she heard a knock on the door, followed by giggling. What would a bunch of kids want with her? She moved Wilhelmina to the side, pushed the blanket off and hobbled awkwardly to the door. When she opened it, she was greeted by a chorus of young voices.
“You’re a mean one, Mrs. Grinch...” the kids sang.
Well, isn’t this sweet, she thought, wondering when caroling had become so cruel.
The kids continued to sing their own version of the famous Grinch song, personalizing it just for Dallas. She was not amused. Some of the faces she recognized as a few of the older kids from the play, and she was a little shocked that they’d be brave enough to play this kind of prank. Instead of laughing and being in on the joke, she rolled her eyes and slammed the door on them, remembering exactly why she had never been a fan of kids to begin with.
She scooped up Wilhelmina and limped to her bedroom. Her cell phone rang just as she’d sat down, so she reached across her bed and fumbled through her bag to find it.
“Hello?”
“Hey, it’s just me,” Daniel said on the other line. “We gotta set up early. That Dickens thing is all day, so you want me to swing by and just pick you up?”
“Sure, that’d be great. Thanks.” She was starting to think she might actually like Daniel, that they might be able to get along, after all.
“Well, this way you won’t have to drive your car, and I can just drop you off when it’s over,” he explained.
“Awesome. I really appreciate it. Parking for that thing is gonna be just awful. So, thanks again.”
“No problemo,” he said. “See ya at eight sharp.”
“Okay, good night.”
“Night.”
Dallas smiled as she turned over in her bed. Daniel was slowly becoming a friend. And for once, she decided she was going to allow that. She was glad he hadn’t been around to witness her great escape down the trap door stairs. All she could think of was how mortified she had been today with Cal and Tristan staring down at her.
It bothered her even more because it was Cal. Part of her wanted to appear perfect to him, to prove to him she was something special. Make him see just what he was missing. The same part of her wanted to prove something to her mother, to everyone, to show them that she was something, and weren’t they just sorry that they weren’t in her circle? But the trouble was, she had been pushing everyone away for so long that no one was even in her immediate circle to care. She had locked everyone out.
Quit it, she scolded herself. This was not the time to sulk over what she didn’t have. Instead, she needed to keep her eye on the prize. She needed to get the anchor spot and remain employed. Blaming the wine and lack of dinner for making her feel gloomy, she gingerly got to her feet and stumbled into the kitchen looking for something to eat.
Dallas had another secret that no one knew, and she’d never let anyone know this deep, dark part of herself. It was embarrassing, since so much of her life had been about competition—though not necessarily when it came to the basic skills of living.
Dallas had a huge problem when it came to blissful domesticity. She’d never learned to cook. Anything. She couldn’t bake something from a box. Somehow she even managed to burn noodles. And it didn’t stop there—she couldn’t iron, let alone sew on a button. She was a disaster as a homemaker. Her secret dream was to marry someone rich enough that those things just wouldn’t matter.
But until she could learn to let someone in, to trust someone enough to even consider marriage, her best friend would continue to be her microwave.
After a quick frozen dinner, she fed Wilhelmina and turned in early. She promised herself to go talk to those idiot neighbors before tomorrow night. Their Christmas lights were shining like the Las Vegas strip and she did need her beauty sleep, after all. Tomorrow was a big day. Dixie Dickens was the big story and she had finally been assigned the lead. She just hoped Cal wouldn’t be there to throw her off.
9
Dallas awoke excited. It was her first lead story in two weeks and she was ready. Dixie Dickens was a wonderful Christmas festival held every year. It was a time when the whole city was full of holiday excitement. Dallas and Daniel made their way downtown and parked in front of the old bank building near the city clock.
Every business and storefront was decked out for a Victorian Christmas. People were showing up in droves in period costumes. Long, velvet, cranberry-colored dresses, huge brimmed hats, tuxes with tails, white spats over black shiny shoes. Men wore tall top hats, offering their arm to the ladies. Costumed carolers strolled along the downtown streets.
The streetlights were wrapped in garland and topped with deep red velvet bows. Stands for hot cider and warm cocoa were set up along the sidewalks and down near the river. Tiny white lights were strung across the main street with huge wreaths draped right in the middle. Downtown historic sites would be open for candlelight tours as soon as dusk fell.
And at the end of the street, Father Christmas awaited the children who would anxiously stand in line for a chance to whisper their sugarplum wishes in his ear.
All of the romance of the Victorian period was alive and made Dallas feel better just being at the event. Even she was excited, if a tad nervous. It was the big story in town that day, and she knew Cal and the entire gang would be milling around somewhere.
“Let’s set up near the downtown Christmas tree first,” Dallas said.
“Perfect. I was thinking the same thing,” Daniel agreed as he began to unload the van and set up the camera. “People won’t start to arrive till the afternoon, and the lights won’t come on till dusk.”
“I was thinking I might like to do my stand-up tonight in front of the bagpipe parade. It’ll have great visuals and natural sound and they’ll be just far enough away” Dallas said. She was always a pro. Born to do the job she was doing. And she was a natural on camera, too.
The mood was light as she made her way around the area, taking a few notes and watching the shops set out their stands and put their candles in the windows. Her ankle was still a bit swollen but feeling much better. She’d decided to wear her three-inch heels today to play it safe. And she didn’t have to worry about a rehearsal tonight because the children from the choir were actually downtown marching in the evening parade.
The mayor would also be here making the rounds tonight. Kitty, Dallas’s former stepmother and Blake’s mother, was practically engaged to him, so she’d likely be at his side. They had been fused at the hip since late June and that made Dallas cringe a little.
Her relationship with Kitty wasn’t so bad. She had been married to Dallas’s dad for about ten years, starting just before Dallas had been sent to live with them. During that time, Kitty had tried to be a mother or at least a friend to Dallas, but she hadn’t actually spoken to Kitty since Vivi’s wedding back in September. It wasn’t really Kitty who was making her so nervous, though—it was her daughter, Blake, who would also be at the festival tonight.
Dallas worked hard that day, talking to many different merchants and making sure she was covering the event as thoroughly as she could. Late afternoon came, and she and Daniel sat in the satellite van to package the story, editing all the interviews and extra footage into the video that would run just before Dallas did the live stand-up to close the segment. She’d be the lead story tonight on the six o’clock news, and that was in just a couple of hours.
“I’m heading out for some hot chocolate. Want anything?” she asked Daniel.
“Yeah, I’ll take a hot cider.”
“Okay, be back in a few.” Dallas slipped out of the news van and into the cold night air.
Dusk was falling, and the clear cold winter air helped create a magnificent sunset over the Warrior River. Vibrant orange and turquoise illuminated the evening sky like a painting, casting a warm glow over downtown Tuscaloosa, now awash in the evening’s blush. In moments, the twinkling lights appeared, sprinkled over downtown like decorations on a cake.
Dallas walked over to the hot chocolate house and got in line. The closed-off streets were starting to fill up with families.
“Hey, aren’t you Dallas Dubois? I recognize you from TV,” said the young woman at the window.
“Oh,” Dallas said with a practiced smile. “Yep, it’s me, in person.” She loved being recognized. “I’ll take a hot chocolate and an apple cider, please.”
“Comin’ right up.” The girl disappeared to the side and returned with the warm drinks. “That’ll be two dollars.”
“Thanks so much,” Dallas said as she handed the money to the girl.
“Would you mind if I have your autograph?” she asked Dallas. “My momma will just die when she sees it.”
“Sure,” Dallas replied, basking in the attention. She set the cups down on the counter and took a pen from the girl and signed her order pad.
“Oh, thank you, Ms. Dubois. This is so awesome.”
“No problem,” she said, picking up her drinks again and turning around.
“Yes, Ms. Dubois, I’d love to get your autograph, too.”
Cal was standing right behind her, a look of sarcastic admiration on his face, and the surprise had her stumbling back, her warm drinks sloshing onto her winter-white Calvin Klein coat.
“Oh, no! Look at this mess,” she cried. “And I have a live shot in an hour.”
“Oh, crap. I’m so sorry. I really didn’t mean to scare you like that.” Cal did look genuinely sorry as he grabbed handfuls of napkins from the stand to help her clean up. He had a young man with him, his oldest nephew, Justin, there for the night. Justin was a freshman at Alabama. He looked enthralled to meet the star news reporter, even though she was currently splattered with a little hot chocolate.
“This is my nephew, Justin,” Cal said, offering her the napkins once she’d put down her cups. “He’s a freshman at Alabama. Justin, this is Dallas Dubois.”
“Wow. Nice to meet you, ma’am. I love watching you on TV,” the boy said, looking a little starstruck. She knew it wasn’t typical for the younger crowed to be familiar with local TV reporters, aside from maybe the anchors since they appeared on air nightly, but her Barbie-doll looks had garnered her more than a few male fans from the around town.
Dallas was busy trying to dab herself off before the stains set in, but she stuck her hand out to give Justin’s a shake.
“Yes, uhm... Hi, Justin, nice to meet you, too.” She gave a tight smile and then went back to the mess on her coat.
“Let me help you,” Cal said. And before she could say no, he was trying to wipe off the hot chocolate, too, patting the collar of her coat, his face in that dangerous place again, much too close to her own.
“Don’t worry, Cal, it’s fine. I’ve gotta go. These are gettin’ cold and Daniel is waiting.”
She grabbed the drinks and headed back to the news van in a hurry.
* * *
“So, Uncle Cal. Your friend is pretty hot,” Justin said as they walked back to Vivi and Lewis. “Why don’t you ask her out?”
