Robyn Neeley - Christmas Dinner

She carried the hot mug to the kitchen’s island and pulled up a stool. Her reflection in the window revealed her messy ponytail with blonde strands flying every which way. She anxiously ran her fingers through her hair, pulling the elastic band out.

What on earth had just happened upstairs? There was something about the way Tate looked at her that made her weak in the knees. And those blue eyes of his. What was it about them that were so familiar?

It had felt so right to be in his arms, even for those few brief seconds. Where were these feelings coming from? “He’s just a colleague,” she said out loud, stirring cream and sugar into her coffee cup.

“Who’s just a colleague? Tate?” Brenda entered, jostling grocery bags. “I hate to tell you this, but judging from last night, I think he’s a little bit more.”

Amanda jumped up to help. “Hey! I was thinking about this guy I work with in the newsroom. He usually makes my blood boil, but lately things have been different between us.”

“Does Tate know this guy?” Brenda set the bags on the counter.

Amanda laughed and removed the groceries from the first bag. “Yes, he does.” She pulled out some carrots and celery. “What do we have here?”

“Your mom asked me to pick up a few items for tonight. Some sandwiches and veggies. I’ve got a tray of deli sandwiches in my car.”

“I forgot about the volunteers.”

“There won’t be a big celebration tonight on account of Quinn going into labor.”

“That makes sense.” Amanda felt relieved. Seeing Brad with Melanie was one thing, but having to interact with them in front of fifty volunteers would have been quite another.

“Thanks for doing this. I’m headed out to meet Dad.”

“Is Tate here?” Brenda asked.

“He’s upstairs resting his ankle. I’m sure Alex mentioned the ‘incident’?”

“He did, and I could have killed him. Seriously, backing over your boyfriend. What was he thinkng? Tate’s okay, right?”

“Yeah, he’s fine, but I think running a person over puts Alex on the naughty list.” She chuckled. “His ankle is sprained, but he’ll survive. He’s taking a nap. I think he’s also exhausted from yesterday’s drive and then helping out with the deliveries all day. He’s hit a wall.”

“Poor guy.”

“Would you mind keeping an eye on him?”

“No, not at all. It will give me an excuse to stay put and finish wrapping Alex’s presents.”

“Rats. Presents.” Amanda drained her mug. She still hadn’t bought a gift for Tate. She reached for a small plate and grabbed a few cookies. “I’ll just take these up to him for when he wakes up. I need to stop by the mall before it closes.”

She headed back upstairs, tiptoeing into the room.

Tate was sound asleep with his right hand dangling half open off the side of the bed. Amanda crept over to the night stand and gently set the plate next to his glasses. Her eyes rested on him as she watched him sleep. Her incredibly handsome co-anchor. It was easy to understand how other women found him attractive. She imagined crawling in beside him, snuggling up to his shoulder.

Maybe later. She turned to leave, and stepped on a hard, round object. She bent down and picked up the item. Outside in the hallway, she opened her palm to see a shiny glass rock. Tate’s lucky charm. “He certainly could have used you today.” She had an idea.

She shut the door and hurried down the stairs, taking two at a time. “Brenda!”

“What is it? Is Tate okay?” Brenda popped her head from out of the kitchen.

“He’s fine. Would you have time tonight to help me with a small gift for him?”

“Sure. What do you need?”

“This.” She revealed the object in her hand.

Brenda peered down. “You’re giving him a rock?” she asked, raising her eyebrow.

“It’s not just any rock. It’s his rock. I mean, it’s his lucky charm. He keeps it in his Jeep, and I’m pretty sure he puts it in his pocket before we go on air. I’ve seen him. For some reason, he gave it to me on our ride up here yesterday, but I think he needs it.” She gave the rock a gentle squeeze. “Especially after today. I thought maybe we could etch something into it? Is that possible?”

“Let me see it.” Brenda took the rock, examining its shape and texture. “You know, I think we could etch maybe a couple of words. You’ve come to the right woman. Your dad has some tools in his office I could use. What would you like it to say? ‘#1’ or maybe ‘Hot Anchor’?” she teased.

“Not quite. Maybe ‘Just Believe.’” She looked at the rock again. “That’s probably too cheesy, huh?”

“I can definitely inscribe whatever you like, but do you think he’d want his lucky stone etched? Once I do it, we can’t take it off.”

“I’m not sure, but he gave it to me, so I guess I can do whatever I want with it. You really think you could do this?”

“Sure can. It shouldn’t take me too long to do it.”

“Awesome!” She hugged Brenda. “And I have the perfect box. Follow me.”

Back in the kitchen, Amanda grabbed her purse off the kitchen island. She reached into it and pulled out the small robin egg blue box that George had given her earlier.

“Oooh. One of your mom’s?”

“No. No, this lovely box was given to me at the hospital today.” Amanda held it up.

“Really? By who?”

“Some nice old man that struck up a conversation with me while I waited for Tate. He left it on the bench and told me I’d know exactly what to put into it.”

“Weird.”

“I know, right?”

“Well, it is pretty.” Brenda took the box from Amanda, opening the lid and inspecting its plush blue fabric inside.

“Isn’t it? It’s strange. George said he put his pills in it, but it doesn’t look like it’s ever been used. Anyway, this is the perfect gift for Tate.”

“If you say so.”

Amanda could tell Brenda wasn’t entirely convinced. “Thanks for helping me. Without you, he would be getting a case of Upstate New York wine.”

Brenda motioned one hand up and one hand down like a scale. “Hmmm . . . case of wine or a rock? I don’t know. Very tough decision indeed.” She chuckled. “I’ll have it ready for you when you get back tonight—” She paused. “And if you change your mind on the inscription, call me by six thirty. I won’t start until I hear from you.”

“Perfect! I’ll give it a little more thought and call you. Thank you! You are the abolute best. Alex doesn’t deserve you.”

She grabbed her jacket and purse from the hallway. “Oh, and can you wake Tate up at seven?” She smiled to herself and walked out the door. Her pseudo boyfriend would not be leaving the house at six but getting the rest he would need to join her in one long late night make out session that would prove once and for all Melanie had nothing on her in the kissing department.

Amanda turned on the Jeep’s windshield wipers, adjusting them to the lowest setting. She watched them move back and forth as they cleared off a dusting of tiny white flakes. Thankfully the snow was light, although judging from her ability to see her breath, the temperature had dropped quite a bit. She didn’t think Tate would mind her borrowing his car again.

The roads could be icy later. It had been years since she’d driven on black ice. She turned out of the driveway and waved to the cars that had pulled over to view her family’s lawn. A steady stream of residents would, no doubt, be paying a visit to her parents’ house throughout the evening. It was nice to be home.

It took her less than five minutes to drive the two miles to the trailer park Kristen Bailey lived in with her two daughters.

“That’s funny. I wonder where Dad is?” She didn’t see her father’s truck anywhere. It was six o’clock on the nose. “Did I miss him?” She parked the Jeep, walked up the rickety steps, and knocked on the trailer’s front porch door.

“Can I help you?” Kristen flung the door wide open. She was wearing a shimmering red sweater and black jeans. Her dark brown hair was pulled off her face. Tiny red and green ornament balls dangled from her earlobes.

“Hi, Kristen. It’s Amanda Turner. I was supposed to meet my dad here at six. Did he already stop by?”

“Amanda! Oh, my goodness. Of course. I didn’t recognize you. Come in, come in. Let’s get out of the cold.” She grabbed Amanda’s arm and ushered her into the trailer. “It’s so nice to see you. You look so different all grown up. So glamorous.”

“Thanks. It’s good to see you, too. Was my father already here?” She scanned the trailer, resting her eyes on the kitchen table in front of her. The table was set for four. No sign of her dad.

“He came here this morning.” Kristen pointed to the tree in the living room. “He delivered our tree with that handsome boyfriend of yours. What was his name again?”

“Tate.” Amanda glanced over at the fully decorated Douglas Fir. That was weird—not only had her dad already been there, so had the volunteers with the ornaments. Maybe they’d just forgotten the cookies. That must be why he asked her to stop by.

“That’s right. Tate. He made quite the impression on my little ones, especially Chloe. Look, she’s even set a place for him next to her.” Kristen motioned to the extra setting at the table.

“Oh, my gosh. I’m so sorry. I’ve interrupted your dinner,” Amanda said. “I should go.” She looked again at the empty plate. “Wait. Did Tate say he’d have dinner with you tonight?”

“Yes. I mean no . . . not really. Chloe invited him. I told her he probably wouldn’t be able to come back, but she insisted that we set a plate for him just in case.” She put her hand up toward her face, covering her mouth slightly. “I think she’s just a little star struck finding out he’s on TV and all.”