Page 103 of The Holidays with Mr. Mitchell
“Yeah, like Dad said,” Izzy chimed in. “Just us.”
I probably should’ve let the girls in on this part of the prank.
“While you guys decide which movie to watch, I’m going to put my pajamas on and hopefully, that will help your mother be less depressed.”
Jim winked and then left the room. This was my shot. My only shot to scoop the girls out of here, get them to Ash’s, and with thirty minutes before Jake and Collin arrived, I hoped I could nail this.
“Why don’t we go get Chinese takeout and surprise Dad?” I said.
“We want to change, though,” Addy said as Izzy nodded in agreement.
“So do I,” I said, “but this is the season of giving, and getting Dad’s favorite takeout dinner on Christmas Eve is a super way to repay him for the party he gave us all last night.”
“That’s true.”
“All right, I’ll tell Dad we’ll be back in thirty minutes,” I said, jumping up.
After letting Jim know we were getting takeout—which he totally believed—the girls and I piled into the Rover. Things were moving right along, so we could get to the Paramount set and change into our Scrooge-era attire. Jake and Collin were officially in the clear to roll up to the house in Eddie’s RV and kidnap my husband, who was most likely already dressed in Frank Shirley’s pajamas and robe.
This was going to be the most fantastic and fun night ever. I called down to the estate security office and requested that all cameras be turned on and recording, because this shit had to be documented. From the moment that RV rolled into the driveway to the men tying up Jim in ropes and putting him inside, I needed everything on record. Jake and Collin had better have installed the cameras inside that rickety old RV, too.
My party was going to take the grand prize and break the internet in all the best ways. Once the online trolls heard about it, they’d be wishing they were part of our family, our fun, and our festivities.
THIRTY-EIGHT
Jim
Christmas Eve…
The house was unusually quiet.Too quiet, in fact.
Even with the faint crackle of the fire in the fireplace and the lingering scent of the Christmas cookies the girls had baked for Santa tonight, something was missing. The laughter, the clinking of everyone’s hot cocoa mugs, and Avery’s voice echoing down the hall—all that warmth had drifted out with her and the girls when they left to pick up Chinese takeout.
I smiled, shaking my head. Only Avery would decide to go out on Christmas Eve for lo mein and dumplings because she thought it would cheer me up from all the bullshit about me on the internet.
The truth was, she didn’t need to cheer me up, especially after the news she’d received. I was actually more upset that her party had been canceled, since she’d been so excited about and looking forward to this silly little competition. Now, thanks to a major slip-up by her planner, it was as if the event had nevereven been planned. Was I disappointed for Avery? Absolutely. But for myself? I wholeheartedly welcomed the idea of a quiet night: no cameras, no staff, no trending hashtags calling me the Grinch in designer boots.
It would just be my wife, our girls, me, and takeout on the living room floor whileChristmas Vacationplayed in the background. Tonight, we would be the normal family we are outside of the fancy events, like the one we went to last night and were scheduled to go to again tonight. I’d worry about the canceled party and how much it was going to cost me another day. Today, I was just happy not to have to go anywhere.
For once this year, there were no expectations. No audiences. No dress up. Just us. I looked down at my Frank Shirley pajamas, cracking up that I was the first and only one dressed in these damn things, when it was usually the girls racing to pull on their jammies, and me bickering over the fact that I didn’t need to be involved in pajama gift exchanges.
Oh well. This put a smile on Avery’s face, and since her party crashed and burned, it was doubly worth it.
I glanced at the clock, then out toward the front gates. It had been nearly half an hour since they’d left. They should’ve been back by now. Maybe they hit traffic. Or maybe Avery got distracted talking to the restaurant owners, something she did all the time, charming everyone within ten feet of her.
I poured myself a glass of bourbon and sank into the sofa, trying not to think about the hashtags still lighting up my phone. Every time I thought about checking them, I could practically hear Collin’s voice reading them aloud in that exaggerated tone of his.
When you spend seven figures on Christmas and still forget the spirit of giving.
Right. Because apparently, building an entire village to make your employees feel like kids again was selfish.
I rubbed my temple, letting out a chuckle. “Fucking social media.”
My thoughts were interrupted when I heard a faint rumble in the distance coming from outside. At first, I thought it was a delivery truck making its way up the hill. But as it got louder and closer, my brow furrowed.
What the fuck? That contraption was most definitelynota delivery truck.
It was an enormous pile of shit on wheels. It was old, obnoxiously loud, and absolutely out of place in my driveway.The damn thing’s engine coughed and sputtered, most likely leaving a trail of oil on my driveway and a permanent hole in the ozone.
