Frosting Her Christmas Cookies - Alina Jacobs Page 0,130

way to Jonathan’s office I tried texting and calling him. He didn’t respond. Had Sarah already sunk her claws into him?

Holly took a sharp turn, and Lilith and I held on for dear life. “And you were worried about me ruining the car?” I shouted to Holly over the blaring music.

“We’re on a mission to save Christmas!” she yelled back as we turned onto Jonathan’s street.

It was snowing hard. Through the flurries, I could make out a man with no coat, clearly unconcerned about the snow, looking picturesque.

My heart jumped then jumped again as the car skidded a bit on the wet pavement when Holly screeched to a stop in front of Jonathan’s condo.

Lilith flung open the door, and I climbed over her to stagger out.

“Morticia!” Jonathan exclaimed in shock.

70

Jonathan

A Charlie Brown Christmas was playing on the TV when I returned to my condo. I had kept it on for Cindy Lou Who. The little gray cat pranced over, purring when she saw me.

“Christmas is coming, but I’m not happy. I don't feel the way I'm supposed to feel,” Charlie Brown said on the TV.

“My life is a disaster,” I told the cat as the Peanuts gang wandered around town in their winter gear. Outside it was snowing again: big, fat, wet flakes.

Jack: Owen told me what happened. I know you said you wanted to host a Christmas Eve party, but we can have it at Owen’s place.

Owen: Why are you volunteering me?

Jonathan: No, I’ll do it.

Jack: Have you bought any food?

No, I hadn’t. I needed to, but I didn’t have the energy. I wished Morticia were here.

Cindy Lou headbutted me and looked up at me with big eyes. I snapped a few pictures then sent the best, saddest-looking one to Morticia.

She didn’t respond.

“What should I make for dinner, Cindy Lou?” I asked her, scratching behind her ears.

I was not a cook. I was better than Owen, who had once tried to make chicken, which had turned out burned on the outside and frozen on the inside. My skills weren’t all that much better, though my food wasn’t going to be raw.

I had had grand visions of a holiday party with ham and turkey and lots of Christmas-themed desserts.

I checked my fridge. “We could serve cheese,” I suggested to Cindy Lou, poking at the hard block of cheddar. I checked the freezer. “And frozen peas.”

The door to my condo beeped, and Cindy Lou raced to the front door. My heart clenched. Was it Morticia? I hadn’t gotten the key back from her.

“Oh, hey, Belle.” I sagged when I saw my sister.

“‘Hey, Belle’?” my sister repeated with a quirk of her mouth.

I took a deep breath. “I owe you an apology.”

“What for?” she asked, setting her bag on the counter.

I looked at the floor.

“You did everything for me when we were growing up. You were there when Mom and Dad weren’t. I should have cut them off long ago and been more appreciative of you.”

“Aww,” Belle cooed, wrapping me in a hug. I sank against her. “You’re my baby brother. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” I mumbled against her shoulder.

“I’m always going to be here for you. I’ll always have your back, and I’ll always help you in any way that I can.” She brushed the hair off of my forehead. “Now what’s wrong? You need your big sis to beat anyone up?”

I looked out the window. “I think all my problems are of my own making, but I appreciate the sentiment. Though,” I added, “if you can keep Greg from ruining me, that would be awesome.”

She laughed. “You know…” she began, opening up her bag and taking out several folders heavy with contract documents. “The key to dealing with men like Greg is to always be on the offensive. Which is why, little brother, my investment firm is going to be developing Hamilton Yards across the street.” She opened the folder. It contained a contract tabbed with yellow notes that read SIGN HERE. “Your hedge fund will be a cash backer, of course. Not a partner, because Dorothy doesn’t trust you like that yet,” she cautioned.

My mouth fell open. “Are you serious? Greg is going to flip out!”

“Just an added bonus!” Belle singsonged. She handed me a pen.

I scanned through the documents.

“Don’t you dare complain about the terms,” Belle warned. “Dorothy was wary of having you on board. I told her you were just a good-looking ATM. But,” she added, “assuming this development does as well as