Wishing On Mistletoe Mountain

Chapter 1

"Santa's beard against his red suit… Beautiful bride, dressed all in white…"

People wearing red and green ugly sweaters donning blinking headbands processed into the restaurant. The sound of their voices rang off-key with a Christmas and a wedding song at the same time. It was pretty awful.

A bad flash mob? It was the strangest thing Rebecca St. Claire had ever seen or heard. Why would anyone ever mix those two songs unless they were having a Christmas wedding? She wasn't even close to planning a wedding. Her boyfriend, Donald Joseph, III, was running for the U.S. Senate. He'd graduated from college seven years ago, and now, his aspirations were sky high, making her less than secondary in his life.

It didn't matter. She'd never marry this guy for one specific reason--the woman who was sitting at that table beside him amidst all his other female advisors.

Rebecca. Donald leaned closer as the singers changed to 'Santa bells, wedding bells…' They're playing our song.

Huh? Their song about Santa bells? This guy was nuts.

The flash mob approached their table while every other customer stared, some taking video of the event on their cell phones. One man in the far corner even had a tripod with a mounted camera pointed toward their table. That told her one thing--this evening had been planned and was probably advertised.

Donald had really done it now.

She leaned closer to him. I hope this is just a publicity stunt.

He smirked, turned toward Gillian, his 'right-hand, arm, leg, and everything else' advisor, and winked. He never winked or flirted with Rebecca and she knew why. Rebecca would be the trophy wife for him, since she was pretty and as thin as a model. But she'd never live up to his expectations. He'd made that perfectly clear the last time they went out together, describing how she just wasn't that bright but at least she was pretty enough for him.

Did he get a 4.0 GPA from a top-notch school? No, but she did. Did he do four internships while in college and hold down a job that was more full-time than part-time? No, but she did. But according to him, she wasn't bright. The thought drove her crazy because she was much brighter than he was. However, since she was a woman and didn't choose a powerful field of study, she didn't count, according to him.

Donald stood up, straightened his three-piece-suit, and flashed the crowd a smile as the blinking-head-awful-singing-mob got closer. He took Rebecca's hand and helped her to her feet, but she was confused. He dropped his hand and shot the crowd another grin. He was really playing to the crowd, making her more than irritated.

The song finally ended and people clapped. Rebecca hoped that was all there was, but when Donald got on one knee, she had to brace herself. Unfortunately, there was more.

Donald reached into his pocket and looked up at Rebecca. I know we've been dating forever and you've been patiently waiting for me to get my life in order.

Uh, no. Six weeks wasn't that long to date, and he'd just decided to run for congress about three weeks before, getting the paperwork done fast. He had a year yet to get his congressional platform up and running, but didn't waste a minute hiring six pretty female assistants for the campaign. He also never had time for Rebecca, which told her a lot.

Donald continued, still watching her face. I think it's time we consolidate and marry. Don't you? He opened a box and showed her a giant ring.

It had to be fake, because Donald never had money. Rebecca always paid for their dates. However, tonight, she knew his campaign would foot the bill for the meal, so she'd decided to join him. That was her first mistake of the evening.

Wait. He was proposing? That was his proposal? Time to consolidate…what? This was ridiculous.

Rebecca sighed, and with a determined stare at his face, crossed her arms. No.

Donald lost his smile, glaring up at her in shock. After a long moment, he got to his feet. Did I hear you right?

I said no. She tightened her jaw with her arms still crossed against her chest. Not in a million years would I marry you.

With a glance, he showed the audience his displeasure, and then leaned toward Rebecca's ear. Why not?

Rebecca cupped her hand around his ear and leaned closer. Your other girlfriend called me this morning and told me everything. We're through. Since you demanded I join you tonight, I came here to give you one last show of support, and then intended to fade into the background so you could play eensie-weensie-sloppy-footsies, according to Gillian. Sounds stupid to me.

He backed away, slack-jawed, and watched her for a lengthy moment. But he never argued. Rebecca was right and he'd been caught.

He finally turned and walked away.

Donald? Gillian got to her feet and ran after him.

Louise, another one of his 'advisors,' stood up and moved closer to Rebecca, hatred covering her face. You just ruined him. She ran off, followed by the rest of the female assistants.

The patrons, the flash mob, and the wait staff glared at Rebecca. She didn't know what to do, spending an awkward moment while the rest of the people just watched the drama unfold.

Their waiter stepped closer and handed her the bill. I expect a good tip. He waltzed away.

The main singer for the mob stared at her from the front of the pack, suddenly crossing his arms. As do we. We weren't paid, either.

Even though Rebecca was only a lowly toy store clerk, she had to pay the bills. There went her credit, at least.

*~*~*

Cindee Cupid was rather new on the job. Her mentor, candy-heart-chain-smoker with a major chip on her shoulder, Coralee Cupid, watched over everything Cindee did.

No, you don't blow cupid dust on anyone. You made Gillian call Rebecca and tell her everything. Donald's gone now and we can fix her up with the man of her dreams.

The doctor who lives across the street from Rebecca's parents, right?

Coralee nodded and popped another candy heart into her mouth, making the smoke of the sugar drift from between her lips. The doctor. He's a good man but is sad right now. We have to make sure Rebecca's happy when she meets him.

Why can't she do this on her own? Why do we have to meddle? As soon as the words escaped from Cindee's mouth, Coralee's lips turned downward and her eyes narrowed. Oops. Cindee had done it again.

Coralee hadn't wanted Gillian to mention the eensie-weensie-sloppy-footsies to Rebecca, but Cindee had used too much truth serum dust on Gillian and the woman had told everything. Coralee wrote Cindee up for that. And now this?

Cindee closed her eyes, just waiting for her punishment.

It's our job! Coralee bellowed. The sound was so loud and her breath so strong that Cindee's hair blew away from her face with the comment. No one should be harassed like this. She didn't think she had any recourse to stop Coralee. The woman was nothing more than a lonely, angry bully.

Cindee had to make this better, but it wasn't the time. Instead, she ignored the rest of the screaming and went into her own thoughts, dreaming up bright fields of daisies and sunshine, with happy people surrounding her. The fantasy was definitely better than reality.

~~~~~

Chapter 2

Rebecca sat alone in the living room of her parents' home, replaying the night's events in her mind. Since the lights were off, it was rather dark, as only the fireplace lit the room a bit. The bowl of popcorn on her lap with the gallon of chocolate ice cream on the coffee table weren't going to solve anything. As she gazed on the pops and crackles of the fireplace flames, she was lost in her thoughts. Certain she'd be on the evening news, she knew better than to dwell on the fact that her life was in the toilet. She needed a new strategy and a new job, preferably out of the Colorado Springs area.

She didn't miss Donald at all, which was strange in itself. What she felt was more of a sense of relief that he was finally gone. Even so, being alone again was worrisome. She hated that thought. However, if she did move away, it was best to be alone.

Her degree was in fashion, and after studying and serving one of her internships with a top-notch fashion designer in New York, she was certain she'd be employed on the spot. But rather than promoting her, Henri had let her go. He'd walked up to her on her last day and said, 'It's been nice knowing you. Now you're done with my company,' and had walked off. The man was eccentric, but that way to fire someone was just rude.

Rebecca didn't let it bother her. Instead, she used it to her advantage. She mentioned the internship on her résumé but didn't state anything about being fired. He'd never used the word 'fired,' so why should she? It had gotten her a job in the city for a few years after that, but she really wasn't doing what she wanted to do and she certainly wasn't making enough money to live. So, at the ripe old age of 27, she came home. Returning as a loser back to her parents' home was like eating crow.

The sparks from the flames crackled and spit, which mesmerized her and let her escape into her thoughts. Her parents were out that night at some sort of social event, so they didn't even know what had happened with Donald. When they finally did get home, Rebecca planned to unload on them and go to bed. However, it could be hours before that happened. Eight o'clock was early for most couples. But for Rebecca, she was ready to go to bed, to think about her life.

She wasn't sad about dumping Donald, but angry about how he'd behaved. He'd even left her with the seven-hundred dollar dinner bill and the four-hundred dollar singing mob bill. Rebecca was certain her mom would have a few things to say about Donald, probably slapping him with a lawsuit before the week was out.

The doorbell rang, making Rebecca jump. Her heart sank, thinking it might be Donald. He hadn't even called her, but it would be like him to show up and exercise his full temper, frightening her. Getting rid of Donald was like dodging a bullet, but she never knew if he would return and make his presence known by hitting her in the heart or in her wallet.

With one quick motion, she put the popcorn bowl on the coffee table, grabbed her cell phone, and stood up. The bell rang again. She wished she had a baseball bat, just in case, but knew she had to answer the door. Now was the time for some superhero to come swooping through the window to save her.

If only.

She inched closer to the front of the house with her cell phone at the ready. Who is it?

The police.

Uh-oh. Donald had called the cops on her. Whatever for? She'd paid the bill at the restaurant while he ran off with his tail between his legs, so to speak. He was no man. But now, he wanted his rejection to be her problem? That rotten man.

What do you want? she asked, in trepidation.

To talk to the owner of the car parked on the street. Is that your car?

Her car? Surely Donald didn't want that. It was falling apart and he refused to ride in it, because it didn't do anything for his image.

This had to be something else. She unlocked the front door, turned on the porch light and the living room lights with the flip of two switches, and swung the door open wide to two uniformed cops.

Yes? she said.

One of the cops motioned with his nightstick toward her dark blue car parked on the street. That yours?

She could deny it, but knowing the cops around here, they'd just tow the thing. Yes, sir. Is there a problem?

He turned to look at her more fully, his eyebrows lowering. You do realize there are rules to be followed in this neighborhood.

Actually, my parents moved in here while I was in college so they could downsize a bit. I just got back about three months ago after trying to make it in New York City. Which rule are you referring to? Stalling was her favorite tactic.

The man sighed. So, you lost your job and are sponging off your parents now?

Rebecca wanted to roll her eyes, but reined in her temper instead. You don't know what it's like. She considered turning on the tears, just for sympathy, but wasn't sure these guys would fall for it.

The man sighed and pointed. Your hunk of junk out there had to be off the roads by seven P.M. You have ten minutes to move it or it'll be towed at your expense.

Her hands flew to her hips, staring him down. Did you drive by here just to harass me and my car, probably sent by Donald Joseph, III, or does someone else hate me?

Someone else hates you. Your neighbor across the street called us. Both men backed away, but the same man kept talking. You have ten minutes. We'll be back.

Yes, sir.

They walked away and Rebecca stared at the home across the street. The man had just moved in this past week, but didn't seem to understand that this was a 'live and let live' type of neighborhood. Her car was none of his business and she wanted him to know it.

Anger rose in her chest and she stormed out to move her car, slamming the door behind her. In that split second as the metal clinked shut and her arms took a chill, she realized she'd just locked herself out of the house. She didn't have her car keys, wasn't wearing a coat, and only wore her bedroom slippers, sweatpants, and a t-shirt. This definitely wasn't her day.

*~*~*

Did you do that? Cindee asked Coralee.

I planted the thought in the neighbor's head. He needed the car moved for the next day, and I just made sure he knew it. That's all I did.

Cindee was pushing her luck, but she had to persevere. Rebecca just left with nothing…not even her coat. She could freeze to death.

Coralee stared at Cindee as if she was stupid. I also planted the thought for the neighbor to watch her. He'll figure it out before she freezes to death. Besides, the cops will be back in ten minutes. You worry a lot. Why is that?

Because I daydream about--never mind. I'll watch you, since you have so much experience. Cindee wanted to roll her eyes at her sarcastic comment.

She hoped Rebecca would be okay, but didn't trust humans to follow through with anything. Coralee would get in trouble for playing with heads like this. Time to sit back and let Coralee get herself in more trouble. This should be good.

~~~~~

Chapter 3

Dr. Zane Forrest sipped a cup of hot tea, watching out the front window of his living room as he sat in the dark. He wished he had curtains and a couch, but the folding chair would have to do for one more night.

The cops pulled away from the home across the street moments ago. The woman of the home, the one Zane had been watching off and on since he'd moved in, had stormed out of the house without a coat. She appeared to be angry, probably because of his request. He could've spoken to her himself, but with his sore throat, he didn't want to go out into the cold any more than he had to. He also didn't want her wrath, but preferred to meet her on nicer terms. The cops should've kept his request anonymous, but from the way she stared at his home, he knew better.

He kept watching her. She was beautiful, with long blonde hair. He thought her eyes were blue, but since he'd never spoken to her face-to-face, he wasn't sure.

This was his entertainment, since he had no television yet. She searched in the two-inch snow on the ground right in front of the porch, as if she might be able to find something. But he'd requested she move her car, not dig a hole in the front yard. And why was she without a coat? Was she as destitute as he felt right now?

He downed the last mouthful of the tea and stood up. He couldn't let her dig without help. Maybe she was a crazy person and had a fondness for snow or had buried a bone or something. From the way she dug, throwing snow between her legs like a dog, the bone scenario seemed more likely. However, he'd never forgive himself if she got sick.

Zane pulled on his coat and shoes along with a Broncos' baseball cap. He grabbed his keys from the kitchen counter and headed outside, locking the door behind him.

As soon as he stepped out onto the porch, the digging woman straightened up and turned toward him. You have a lot of nerve, she yelled from across the road.

He didn't answer right away, but checked the desolate street for cars before crossing to her property. What are you talking about?

I came out here to move my car because you turned it in to the cops. I was so upset, I locked myself out of the house. Now I'll probably freeze and get sick, and become yet another statistic for a homeless person with no future and no life.

Zane kept walking toward her, passing her car. Maybe she really was crazy. Don't you have the house key on your key ring for the car? It was a stupid question, but he had to ask. Sometimes the cold did funny things to people and she sounded somewhat insane.

The woman crossed her arms in irritation. Look. I might be blonde, but I'm not stupid. I forgot my car keys because you upset me. Now go away while I hunt for the spare key to the house. She bent over, digging her hands in the cold snow while throwing it between her legs. As she dug, she mumbled something about the old house and how her parents must've forgotten.

He had to help her somehow. Zane stepped closer, shoved his hands into his pockets, and found a pair of gloves inside. You look cold. He handed the gloves to her. What can I do to help? He took off his own coat and offered it to her.

Nothing. She pulled on the gloves, but shook her head at the coat. Thanks, but I'm okay. I don't want anyone to know the key is here. She stood up and put her hands on her hips. Maybe they didn't bury one at this house.

He pulled his coat back onto his arms and zipped it up. You don't know?

Nope. I was doing a long internship in New York and moved home after they bought this place. Now I'm looking for a real job.

He put his hands back in his pockets to warm them. What type of job?

Fashion design. She waved him off. You don't care. No one does. She bent over and resumed her search. There was a fake stone here with a key inside. At least there was one when we lived at our old place.

He looked toward the house. Are any other doors open?

Nope. I'm alone. As she bent over to dig, she looked behind her, between her legs, so she could see him, with the streetlights and her front porch light illuminating the area. You're not a creeper, are you? I hope you're not here to kill me, because if you are, the cops will be back--

Not at all. She amused him, but he didn't want her to see his smile, so he nudged his chin down into his jacket. Come over to my place. I don't have a lot to offer there, but at least it's warm.

I'm fine. She straightened up and turned her attention toward the house. I think I can jimmy the back door open, maybe. I just need a crowbar and a bit of dynamite, a rocket launcher, or something… She headed around the side of the house, just as the cops' car pulled into the driveway.

Both cops got out and approached Zane. Dr. Forrest, the older man said. She didn't move her car.

Um…she locked herself out of the house and is trying to get in to get the keys. Give her a break. She's not in a good mood.

The cop moved his cap up on his head a bit more. When do you need that car moved by?

After eight tomorrow morning. That's when the delivery truck will be here. I work until seven in the morning. He glanced toward the front locked door, wondering if the woman had dynamite or a rocket launcher. I'll help her move her car. She's not happy with me right now.

The cop nodded. I noticed that from when we were here earlier.

The younger cop walked up to the door and felt around the frame at the top. Is this the key she needed? He showed them the key in his palm.

Let me try it. The older cop took the key from the younger cop's hand, put it into the lock, turned it, and opened the door.

Do you think I can go through to tell her to come inside now? Zane asked. She doesn't even have a coat.

But she might have artillery. He could stop her from being arrested. It was the least he could do.

We'll go with you, the older cop said.

Zane had tried to save her, he told himself, but if the cops saw any rocket launchers or dynamite, she was on her own.

The three of them trudged into the home and proceeded through to the back, where the woman was fiddling with the door, using a stone and a stick. The older cop opened the door and she about fell inside, seeming to not realize they were there.

What? she asked. I'm trying to move my car. Did you tow it?

No, ma'am. Your neighbor told us what happened. He handed her the house key. It was above the door frame out front.

Thank you. She stepped inside, grabbed her coat and keys, and headed for the front door. I won't be but a minute. Please stay put because I want to know what prompted all of this. And with that, she was out the door.

Zane's heart beat faster, because she was someone he wanted to know. Yes, she'd gotten angry, but she didn't seem to hold a grudge for long. She was nothing like any other woman he'd ever known and she'd be a great diversion for his grief. She'd be his new form of entertainment, which was even better than staring out the window at night.

*~*~*

Bingo! Cindee high-fived herself in the air.

You're just annoying, Coralee said.

Cindee stepped back in frustration. Coralee was a stick-in-the-mud. The woman should just go off to the old cupid's home and die alone, because she was nothing but mean and more than ready to retire. Her husband had probably run off or died from fear of this woman's anger streak. Cindee couldn't wait until this job was done, so she could get away from Coralee and her meanness. It was too late for Coralee to be nice. She'd die a grumpy old woman who hated her job and hated love.

~~~~~

Chapter 4

After removing her coat and handing the new neighbor his gloves, Rebecca moved from the hallway into the living room with the man, since the cops had already left. She pointed toward the couch. Have a seat. I just have a few things to clean up. She turned off the fireplace, because it really wasn't necessary when she had guests to focus on.

The neighbor pocketed his gloves and pointed at the container of chocolate ice cream on the coffee table. Rough day? He took off his coat.

She lifted the ice cream in her hand. You have no idea. Want something to drink?

No. I'm okay. He put his coat and hat on the couch.

Rebecca was determined to find out why this guy had targeted her car, but first, she had to be nice before she argued with him.

She glanced at his face, realizing something important. You don't feel well, do you?

How did you know?

You're pale. What can I get you?

He eyed the ice cream. I have a sore throat. Do you have vanilla? I don't think chocolate would sit well and I don't have much to eat over there yet.

She was glad she hadn't gotten angry with him about the car after they'd come inside. His story intrigued her for some reason. Yes. Vanilla ice cream and something for a sore throat. Sinus issues?

Yes. His eyebrows lowered in question. How did you ever guess that?

"Swelling around the eyes and a red nose. It happens a lot to everyone in this house and in our old house. I used to think it was ghosts or poison, but it's happening