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Macy rested her hands on her hips as she studied the mouse. “I know. But according to the message, they somehow—” she rested her finger on her chin to recall the exact way the boys had phrased it “—scored some serious tickets.” She mocked Spencer’s surfer-boy accent with air quotes.
Serena’s laugh turned into a hacking cough. She shook her strawberry-tinted head. “That’s pretty lame of them. They worked last year. They understand how this is the busiest weekend for you.”
Shrugging, Macy tried to smile, already figuring how to handle things. In a way, she looked forward to working alone tomorrow and Friday. She was prepared. Key organizational skills helped keep Macy sane. What took most grown men all day to do, she could complete in an hour. She had a few homes in the morning with light decorations. Extra hands stringing up the lights might have been nice, but Macy could handle the work; after all, she’d started this business ten years ago with no help.
The only stickler in her plans was the Wainwrights’ home, simply because they kept changing their ideas. Typically the slots for holiday decorations got booked up by the Fourth of July. Every weekend until just before Christmas, she was busy. Most trusted Macy’s ideas. A lot of homeowners’ associations even required their neighborhoods to decorate unless religion prohibited it. Doing the work on her own wasn’t a problem, especially since the kids were at her former in-laws’ house. Perhaps it would be a bit of a hassle trying to unload her truck, but she could get it done.
“Achoo.” Serena sneezed.
Panic ripped through Macy’s body. With the boys gone, she was going to have to lean on Serena more. “Are you okay?” she asked slowly.
“Just a sneeze,” Serena said, swatting the mouse on the ear. “He did this to me, stupid dusty thing...achoo!”
Macy raised her left eyebrow in question. “Maybe you ought to drink some orange juice just in case. C’mon, I believe I spotted some when I put up some leftovers last night.”
“Maybe,” Serena answered as she followed Macy. “Oh, and I forgot to tell you who I ran into yesterday while you went to the party. Remember the party I wasn’t invited to?”
“Who?” Macy asked with a sigh, anticipating Serena’s guilt trip.
The sound of their footsteps on the hardwood floors blocked out Serena’s exasperated sigh as they crossed the former living room, now a sitting room. Macy straightened a Christmas ornament on a seven-foot Fraser fir tree and kicked one of the shiny green display presents with red polka dots out of the walkway. On the other side of the stairs, across from the living room, was once Macy’s dining room, now two downstairs offices. In the back of the house was the kitchen; access was gained from the thin hallway from the offices or directly straight back from the front door and living room. Macy opened the white double-door refrigerator. Pictures of previous jobs she’d had over the years mingled with Gia’s and MJ’s old drawings.
“I saw Mr. Officer and a Gentleman.”
“Who?”
“Ugh, Lawrence, the pilot you dated.”
Macy hardly called going out with Lawrence Hobbs dating. The whole reason Macy had gutted her Victorian home was to meet clients here in the spacious waiting room or in one of the back offices, or even better, at their homes to better survey the landscape. Lawrence, on the other hand, had one reason or another to meet her at a coffee shop, café and even the park to pick her brain about decorating. Eventually, the two of them figured out that Serena should do all the scheduling. Lawrence, a sweet man, had retired from the air force and settled down in Tallahassee. At the party yesterday, someone mentioned he’d started his own private airline, albeit a small one.
“You mean the pilot you kept leaving me alone with when he came over here?”
“Yes. I think he seemed really interested in how you were doing. I think you ought to give him another chance.”
“Really?” Macy said very quizzically with a raised eyebrow. “Because when I saw him yesterday as well, at said party you weren’t invited to, Lawrence mentioned his new girlfriend, one of the judges from last year’s holiday decoration contest.”
Serena opened her mouth, but closed it quickly. Her matchmaking skills were lost on this case, no matter how hard she tried. This time of year, dating was out of the question for Macy. Macy smiled and thought of her children and how they would react if she started dating. Their father, Mario, dated. Hell, he’d been dating before they divorced.
Macy shook her head as she bent over to look for something nutritious for Serena. These days, Macy kept the refrigerator stocked with various juices from orange to grape and apple. Today, she seemed to have only orange left. Next to the drinks were containers of leftover turkey and all the fixings. She’d made extra plates last night for herself and the boys to eat after work. Now realizing they weren’t coming in, she had extra extra leftovers. Grabbing a glass from the dishwasher, Macy poured Serena some juice and patted the bar stool. “Drink up.”
“Orange?” She frowned, being ornery. “But I don’t like orange.”
“Beggars can’t be choosers, Serena.”
“But I’m not begging.” Serena tried to argue, but Macy just stared at her. Playfully pouting, Serena climbed onto the high-backed bar stool. “Fine, I’ll drink even though I’m not sick. So what do you think about Lawrence?”
“I don’t think much about him,” Macy answered honestly. Lawrence was a nice-looking man. He was about five eleven with cocoa-brown skin and a trimmed beard; his was one of many faces Macy had seen yesterday. He had come over and given her a hug and thanked her again for the work she’d done on his house, but told her this year there were so many changes in his life that he wouldn’t be around to enjoy the decorations.
Serena rolled her eyes and gave a huff. “He was looking mighty hot when I saw him. He was on his way to the party I wasn’t invited to.”
But was he as hot as Duke Rodriguez? a little voice nagged in the back of Macy’s brain.
“Hmph.” Serena’s eyebrows rose. “That was a pretty funny look you just gave. Did you meet someone? Oh, wait, tell me—how was meeting Mr. Dimples?”
With a droll eye roll, Macy shook her head at the nickname her thirteen-year-old daughter had given the obnoxious anchorman. Serena didn’t help matters whenever Gia came to the office after school. They had been fans of the anchorman before he came to Tallahassee, and now they were bursting at the seams at him being here. Gia had actually wanted to miss going to
her grandparents’ house for the week just so she could go to the Baezes’ holiday party and see Duke.
“Exactly as I expected.”
