The Nine Lives of Christmas Read online

  He finally found her in the pet food aisle, setting out cans of cat food. He offered a friendly hello and startled her, making her drop a can. It rolled his direction and he snagged it and handed it back.

  “How’s your cat doing?” she asked as she put the can on the shelf.

  She was concentrating on that can like it would jump off the minute she turned her back and Zach suddenly realized he was standing smack-dab in the middle of an awkward situation. Last time he’d seen Merilee he’d been with Blair.

  How to proceed? He cleared his throat. “Well, I think he’s upset.”

  That got her attention. “Oh, no. Why?”

  He shrugged. “We’ve had a lot of changes lately. My girlfriend and I broke up.”

  Merilee became suddenly busy pulling cans out of the cardboard carton at her feet. “Oh?”

  “I think Tom’s acting out.” Did cats act out? Who knew? It sounded good, anyway.

  She set a couple more cans carefully on the shelf and then turned to look at Zach. “What’s he doing?”

  “Scratching the furniture.”

  “Hmmm. Does he have a scratching post?”

  “No. I thought maybe you could help me pick one out.”

  “I know the perfect one,” she said with a decisive nod, and started down the aisle, leaving Zach to fall in step beside her. “I’m sorry about your girlfriend.”

  “Well, I don’t think we were much of a match. She didn’t like my cat.”

  “A person’s attitude toward animals says a lot about them,” Merilee commented and left it at that.

  “I guess you’ve got a ton of pets,” said Zach. She seemed like someone who would be good with animals. And kids. Not that Zach needed to know.

  Her mouth turned down at the corners and she shook her head. “No pets allowed where I live.”

  She had a great mouth. Never mind her mouth! “Where do you live?” he asked. It would have been rude not to.

  “The Angel Arms Apartments. I’m afraid I’m breaking the rules, though.”

  Funny. Merilee didn’t look like a rule breaker. But then Blair hadn’t looked like a cat hater. Sometimes people weren’t what they seemed.

  “I rescued a kitty and I haven’t been able to find a home for her. I just couldn’t take her to the shelter,” Merliee added with a little shrug.

  “I know the feeling,” said Zach. Speaking of feelings, one was stealing over him that wasn’t safe, so he shoved it away. They were in front of a vast array of scratching posts now. “Which one of these do I want?”

  She surprised him by reaching for a long, thin, cardboard box. “This is the best. Just flip the lid and you’re good to go.”

  She handed it to him and he stared at it. “It’s cardboard.”

  She nodded. “Embedded with catnip. You’ll have to replace it every so often, but believe me it’s well worth the price. Your cat will never scratch the furniture again.”

  “Sold,” Zach decided. And then there didn’t seem to be anything left to say, at least about cats. So he thanked her and left. But as he walked out the door he was accompanied by the nagging thought that he hadn’t come away with everything he needed.

  He was halfway to his car when he saw Blair approaching from the other direction. She was wearing her favorite long, fur-trimmed coat and black boots with heels that made her legs look a million miles long. There was a time when he would have looked at her and thought, sexy. Now he just thought, scary.

  She’d seen him, too. He could tell from the way she was bristling, with every step an angry fashion model stomp that sent the slush underfoot spraying in all directions.

  Shit.

  Well, they were bound to run into each other sooner or later. He’d been hoping for later, though. It was easier to face a three-alarm fire than a pissed ex-girlfriend any day. He stopped and mentally braced himself. When she got closer he said a civilized, “Hello, Blair.”

  She returned his greeting with a scowl. “Still have the cat?”

  “Uh, yeah.” That was his excuse for being here. What was hers? He nodded toward the store. “Did you decide to get a pet?” he joked in an attempt to lighten an awkward moment as heavy as a fire hose.

  “Actually, I’m meeting with my father. Business,” she added, her voice snippy.

  Zach couldn’t think of anything to say to that. He couldn’t think of anything to say, period. He was too busy thanking his lucky stars they were no longer together.

  Blair obviously couldn’t think of anything more to say, either, so she simply marched on into the store like a general riding into battle.

  Zach got in his Land Rover and got out of Dodge.

  * * *

  Sometimes getting called to the boss’s office means something good, like a raise, but when Merilee got her summons she knew there was no raise waiting in her future. She’d been manning the checkout stand when the reincarnation of Cruella De Vil whom she’d done battle with on Saturday entered Pet Palace. The woman had shot her a vengeful glare right before flying up the stairs to the second level where Mr. Carlyle’s office was located.

  Kate Hendrix, who was at the stand next to Merilee’s, said, “Uh-oh. The boss’s daughter looks mad. Somebody’s head’s gonna roll.”

  It wasn’t hard to figure out whose. Merilee swallowed hard but it didn’t help push down the panic rising up her throat.

  If there had been any doubt her head was about to roll, walking into the inner sanctum—a huge room that was quickly closing in on her—she could have no doubt now. Mr. Carlyle, a normally pleasant little man was sitting at his desk, frowning. Merilee had always thought he looked a little like Santa with his round belly and his equally round face, his nose like a berry or cherry or whatever it was, and his snowy white hair. Today his stern expression made her think of Scrooge.

  Next to him stood Daughter of Scrooge, wearing a fur-trimmed coat, unbuttoned to reveal a black knit dress that clung to a perfect body. Her hair was perfect, too—perfectly highlighted, perfectly blond. And her makeup, perfect, of course. And underneath all that perfection was a heart rotten to the core.

  It wasn’t nice to hate people. Merilee hated her anyway.

  “It’s come to my attention,” said Mr. Carlyle, “that you have not been putting the customer first, Merilee.”

  Not hard to figure out who told him. “I value all our customers who love their animals,” she said. Could she help it if this creature was an animal hater? How could Mr. Carlyle have such an awful daughter?

  “Well, you didn’t value me,” snapped the woman. “She was simply awful, Father. A woman like that makes a poor ambassador for the store.”

  And a woman like you makes a poor ambassador for women. Merilee kept her lips pressed tightly together.

  “Is what I’m hearing true?” asked Mr. Carlyle.

  There was no point pretending she didn’t know what he was talking about. She knew. They all knew.

  “I’m afraid we had a misunderstanding,” said Merilee, opting for diplomacy even though she was wishing she had claws and could give the woman another scratch to match the one she’d gotten from the poor, scared cat.

  “Is that what you call it?” sniped the woman.

  Mr. Carlyle’s frown dipped further south. “Merilee, you know the customer is always right. Sometimes we encounter people when they’re not having the best of days, but it’s not our job to judge them.”

  Merilee could feel her cheeks sizzling. “Yes, Mr. Carlyle,” she murmured.

  “I’m afraid you should have been more understanding,” he chided.

  “It won’t happen again,” she said, almost choking on the words.

  “No, it won’t because I’m afraid we’re going to have to let you go. We simply can’t have our employees insulting our customers.”

  Or our daughter. This was wrong and unfair. “Mr. Carlyle,” Merilee began.

  “We will give you two weeks’ severance,” Mr. Carlyle said, his voice hard. “I’ll have Mrs. Olsen send you a
check. Please clean out your locker.”

  Next to him, Daughter of Scrooge looked on, her self-righteous expression adding, “That’ll teach you.”

  “Yes sir,” said Merilee. Face flaming she turned and managed, somehow, to find her way to the door—not an easy task considering the grim image she was envisioning: herself standing on a snowy corner, begging for money. What oh what was she going to do?

  “What will you do?” asked Kate, who was now taking her break in the employees’ lunchroom where the lockers were located.

  Merilee swiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “I don’t know. I’ll think of something.”

  “Gosh, right before Christmas. What a rotten thing to do!”

  Yes, it was rotten. But when a girl decided on a verbal smackdown with the boss’s daughter, rotten was all she could expect to get for Christmas. You brought it on yourself.

  Still, it had been so wrong to blame that poor cat for simply acting like a cat. Of all the nerve!

  What business had it been of hers? Really?

  Anytime an animal suffered it was somebody’s business, and the way that woman had been carrying on the poor animal’s future hadn’t looked good.

  Sigh. She was the Superwoman of cats. It would be nice if she could develop some super powers on her own behalf.

  “I wish I knew of something,” said Kate.

  “I’ll be okay,” Merilee said. “I’ve been volunteering at the shelter and I know they’ve got a part-time opening. I’m sure they’ll hire me.”

  “Part-time anywhere probably pays as good as full-time here.”

  It beat starving anyway, and since there was no Prince Charming rushing to the rescue it would have to do until the new year.

  Kate came over and laid a hand on her arm. “When I said what I said down there, about somebody’s head rolling, I never thought it would be yours. It’s because of what happened Saturday, isn’t it?

  Too miserable to speak, Merilee nodded.

  Kate frowned. “She’ll get hers someday. Meanwhile, if you need anything, call me. Okay?”

  What she needed was a job and Kate couldn’t help her there. She murmured her thanks, then topped her small pile of belongings with her lunch sack, said her good-byes, and left Pet Palace.

  A leaden sky pelted her with sleeting rain as she crossed the parking lot, a final cosmic “Neener, neener” sending her on her way.

  She got into her car and cranked up the music as high as possible, determined to stave off self-pity and tears. An unknown choir was singing “God rest ye merry gentlemen, let nothing you dismay.”

  No dismay, she vowed. This wasn’t the end of the world. It was the beginning of a new chapter. Life has more in store for you than working at Pet Palace.

  Somehow, somewhere, she would find it.

  * * *

  Tom was obviously happy with his magic scratching box. It seemed as though every time Zach turned around the cat was at the thing, clawing up a storm. Better that than the couch.

  “Looks like our problems are solved, dude,” he said, scratching Tom behind his ears. “Now maybe I can stay out of Pet Palace for a while.”

  And that was a good thing. Really. He had other stuff to spend his money on, like new flooring and a shower unit for the downstairs bathroom. He didn’t need to be always running into Merilee.

  Or any other woman. Women complicated things and Zach didn’t need complications.

  Speaking of complications. “Have you talked to your chief yet about getting Christmas Eve off?” asked his mother.

  He knew he shouldn’t have answered his cell. “Mom, I really don’t think that’s going to happen.”

  Mom had cancelled the family togetherness card when she and Al, husband number two, had taken the Steps and moved to the East Coast to start a new life that hadn’t included Zach and David. That had been fine with Zach. He’d been thirteen at the time and what Al so lovingly termed a pain in the butt, so he’d been shunted off to live with Dad, who was slowly sliding into the bottle, while Mom and Al had skipped off to live the good life.

  At first she’d made the right sounds about missing Zach and wanting him to come out for the summer. (Like Al was anxious for that!) But their conversations were never good and soon the phone calls dried up, maybe scorched by the heat of teen boy anger. Or maybe because she just hadn’t given a damn. Either way, what did it matter? By the time Zach was sixteen they were down to a yearly check enclosed in a birthday card. He never cashed the checks. They always felt like bribes. She finally gave up on checks and switched to gift cards like that was, somehow, more personal. He’d tossed those, too.

  Mom and the gang had moved back to town in June and she was ready to be one big happy family again. Zach had no problem being a family with the Steps. Both girls had friended him on Facebook a couple of years back and now they were constantly messaging him, stopping by the station, or calling him on the phone … or siccing producers from The Bachelor on him. But Mom, he wasn’t ready for her or her plans for a cozy family Christmas.

  He could already see how that would play out. David would conveniently forget to call from Australia, and that would leave Mom all teary. Al would feel honor bound to comfort her and mutter that the kid was just like his dad. Not a compliment. When Mom was finished mourning the fact that her baby was so far away she would tell Zach how happy she was that they all were able to be together again. Of course, one of the Steps would be sure to have her laptop handy, primed to sign him up for eHarmony. He’d balk. Then his stepdad, the PC king, would teasingly suggest he was gay. Otherwise, why wouldn’t a man want to settle down with a wonderful woman like Zach’s mother? Aw, sweet. And a good way to assure Al got his for Christmas. Later, to top off the evening, Dad would call Zach on his cell, drunk and maudlin—his favorite way to celebrate the holidays.

  Yeah, Mom’s party would be as fun as a toothache, not to mention hypocritical since he and Al had never gotten along. It would also feel wrong to be with a family that shouldn’t have been his family. And they wouldn’t have been if Mom hadn’t dumped Dad.

  When he was little he didn’t get it, but as he grew older he had pieced things together pretty easily. Somehow, Dad hadn’t been enough so Mom had dumped him and splintered their family unit. Then she upgraded to Al and got a bigger house and the daughters she’d probably always wanted.

  The fallout had been major. Now brother David was living Down Under and poor Dad was trying to make a life in another state with his third wife. The last time Zach had talked to Dad, that relationship was looking shaky. No surprise. Getting too close was a recipe for disaster. At least it was for the Stone men.

  “I was so hoping we could have Christmas dinner together and then go to the Christmas Eve service,” Mom said wistfully.

  Thank God he’d be working.

  “You could bring someone,” she added to sweeten the pot. “Didn’t you tell Natalie you were seeing someone?”

  Probably he had, at some point, in an effort to keep Nat from suggesting friends for him on Facebook (all female, single, and too young). “Uh.”

  “She’d be more than welcome.”

  “I’m not with anyone right now.”

  A long-suffering sigh drifted over the phone. “It seems a shame you can’t find a nice girl to commit to.”

  Was she joking? “Yeah? How’d that work for Dad?” he retorted.

  The huge silence on the other end of the line made him wish the words back. If anyone deserved such a slam it was her. Still, he felt like a Scrooge for saying it. “Sorry,” he muttered.

  “No, I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I have a lot to make up for.”

  That was the understatement of the century.

  “The girls adore you,” she said, moving to more comfortable conversational territory. “They’ll be so disappointed if you don’t show.”

  “I can’t help it,” he said. He was no dummy. He’d traded days with Julio, effectively making himself unavailable on both big family disas
ter days. “Lots of fires over the holidays. People burning candles where they shouldn’t, starting grease fires in the kitchen. You wouldn’t want all of Angel Falls to go up in smoke because your son wasn’t doing his duty.”

  “I’m just thinking someone else’s son could do his duty this year so I can spend Christmas with mine.”

  “Sorry,” was all he could think to say. At least all he could think to say that was civilized.

  “Could you at least stop by the day before you start your shift? I have something for you.”

  Probably a gift card. “I’ll try.”

  “Great,” she said, as if he’d just given her a firm confirmation.

  Zach ended the call with a sigh and tossed his cell phone on the couch. “Be glad you’re a cat,” he told Tom, who was perched on the back of the couch. “You’ve got it good.”

  The cat blinked and flicked his tail.

  Zach decided to make dinner easy: Chinese takeout. “Food of the gods,” he told Tom as he dished up some canned cat food. “And I’ve got your fav, here, too, dude.”

  But Tom didn’t trot up to his food bowl and start chowing down. Instead, he turned and walked away.

  “Hey, since when aren’t you hungry?” Zach called after him.

  Tom kept walking.

  “Fine. Suit yourself,” Zach muttered, and grabbed his carton of General Tso’s chicken.

  He didn’t give another thought to Tom’s lack of appetite until the next morning when he went to set out some more food for the little guy before heading out the door to the station and found the bowl still full. The canned cat food had dried out to a smelly, crusty, unappetizing lump. What was wrong with Tom? He always snarfed down his meals the minute Zach put them in the bowl. Zach dumped out the food and dished up a fresh helping. He also put out some dried food. Something there should tempt Tom while he was gone.

  He had just finished when, Tom wandered out into the kitchen. “Breakfast, bud,” said Zach.

  Tom walked over to the dish, sniffed at it, and then walked away again.