Have Yourself a Merry Christmas Murder

Excerpt:

Chapter 1: The Dreaded Trip Home

Lauren Cross tasted blood and pulled her finger out of her mouth and inspected it. The cuticles of her right hand were dry with the slight chill in the Texas air. The red on her nails matched her red sweater, the combo trying to conjure some Christmas spirit. She had been working the hangnail on her middle finger. The little piece of skin had long since found a new place in the tissue on her lap, but she had continued with the other fingers. Now, a small spot of blood seeped out. Shaking her head, she put her finger back in her mouth. 

“Did you finally draw blood?” The voice belonged to Alex Morgan, sitting behind the wheel of his Rav4. He glanced over at her, the slight quirk of his mouth curled up in a way she found endlessly endearing. It wasn’t the only thing.

His dark brown hair, usually tousled with a nice full body that many ladies had to pay to achieve, was styled and swept back from his face. She wanted to run her fingers through it, but he didn’t want her to. “I’m making a first impression on your family,” he had  said, “and I need to look my best.” He had shaved, trimmed his goatee to perfection, and even plucked the stray whiskers that traveled up his cheeks. He wore dark blue jeans, a white cotton button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, and a blue Columbia vest. He opted for his dark brown desert boots rather than his typical Doc Marten’s sandals. 

Lauren sighed and examined her finger again. The blood and her saliva mixed together, and she decided to put direct pressure on it with the tissue. 

“It won’t be that bad,” Alex said. He peeled his eyes off the Texas highway long enough to show the deep blue in them. He winked. “It really won’t.”

“How do you know?”

A slight shrug then another grin, this one a bit of his devilish wit. “Because I’m here with you.” He held the grin long enough for her to burst out laughing. A few seconds after she started, he joined her, drowning out the Christmas music playing on the radio.

The laughter proved the tonic she needed. Just the sound of it eased her mind and reminded Lauren of how easy the two of them had become after only four weeks of dating. It warmed her stomach to have Alex with her. She reached over and gripped his forearm. He took his hand off the wheel and entwined his fingers with hers, both of their elbows resting on the center console. His Fitbit smacked into her Apple watch, and the silver ring on his fingers clicked on the gold one she wore. He gazed over at her and the warmth in her stomach turned to butterflies. 

That smile of his. Sure, she knew it was early days in their relationship where everything was hunky dory, sunshine and rainbows, but this time, it felt different. They had covered a lot of territory since the party at her friend Whitney’s house on Thanksgiving Day. Eleven friends, all who didn’t want to go home and see their families for the holiday, ended up staying in town and having the big meal with their new family: each other. Whitney had invited Alex specifically to meet Lauren. Initially, after Lauren learned about that, she had taken Whitney aside and grilled her friend why. “You need to find someone, Lauren,” Whitney had said. “He asked about you at one of our office meetings. I told him about you, showed him your photo, and he’s really looking forward to meeting you.”

“Which one?” Lauren asked.

“Which one what?”

“Which picture did you show him?” 

A mischievous smirk lanced across Whitney’s face. “The one from when we went tubing in New Braunfels.” She winked. “The one in your bikini.”

Lauren had playfully slapped her BFF, the heat of a blush washing over her face. “You didn’t.”

“Well,” Whitney had admitted, “that wasn’t the first one I showed.” She had paused. “But it was one of them.”

The memory of that day flooded through Lauren’s mind now as she sat in Alex’s car. Her gaze softened as she thought about how embarrassed she had been at the prospect of some new guy’s first image of her was her in a bikini. It hadn’t taken too long before they grew intimate and he saw much more of her than that.

“What did you think about me when Whitney showed you my photo?” Lauren asked.

“I had already seen you. Remember when you showed up to the office the night y’all were going to the Midland concert. That’s when I first saw  you, dressed in your country girl chic, ready to dance the night away.” He looked at her again. “I just wanted to see your normal self, not all dolled up.”

Lauren thrust out her lower lip. “What? You don’t like me to look pretty?”

“You look pretty without any effort at all.” His voice has grown softer, taking on a tonality she couldn’t believe she had already come to love. That voice now made the butterflies flutter in her stomach.

Lauren sighed, this time more contentedly. She reached for the covered cup of coffee and took the last sip. The lukewarm liquid almost made her gag. She liked hot coffee and iced coffee, but not in-between coffee. Taking her hand away from his, she pulled the water bottle from the cup holder in the  door and opened the cap. She drank half the bottle in one gulp and put it back. She slid her fingers back into his on the console.

“Are your palms really that sweaty?” Alex asked.

Instantly self conscious, Lauren tugged her hand away and wiped both palms on her jeans. “No, no, I’m just hot.” 

“I know that,” he said through a suggestive chuckle, “but I’m talking about you being nervous about seeing your family. Has it really got you that wound up?”

Lauren sniffed derisively. “You don’t know my family.”

“Not yet. But I’m looking forward to meeting them.”

Lauren grunted and turned up the radio. “Little Drummer Boy” by Chicago came through the speakers. She got lost in the drum beats and began to sing along to the song.

Alex turned down the volume using the controls on his steering wheel.

Lauren reached over and turned the volume back up on the console. The music blasted in the car.

Alex turned the radio off. He looked at her with soft eyes, his eyebrow arching. “I can do this all day.”

Sitting back in her chair, Lauren crossed her arms. Those butterflies vanished as did her happier mood. 

“Oh, so we’re doing the silent thing now? I can do that, too.” He put both hands on the wheel and stared at the road.

Lauren looked at the brown terrain in the Texas Hill Country. A thousand thoughts and memories about her family swirled in her mind’s eyes, few of them good. Why did she always remember the bad things? Why not the good times? She focused her brain, zeroing in on good memories of home and family. One by one, almost as if it were some special effect in a movie, the bad memories were swept aside, yet for any one given happy memory, two bad ones took its place. No, that wasn’t right. There were good memories. Everyone had good memories about their families, all tinged in sepia like she was watching a Ken Burns documentary. She saw events and moments, birthdays and high school football games, band concerts and swimming in the river on a sweltering summer’s day. There were good times, she knew, but her brows furrowed at a realization.

“Some of my best memories about home were with my friends.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. 

“What’s that? We’re talking now?” Alex glanced at his watch. “That was only two minutes. That’s not too long for the silent treatment.”

Playfully, Lauren shifted in her seat and slapped his shoulder. 

“Watch it,” he said. “I’m driving.” He chuckled and turned the radio back on. Now, it was “Jingle Bells” by the Brian Setzer Orchestra. “But seriously, though, it’s not going to be that bad.”

“How do you know?”

Alex inhaled deeply and let out the air slowly. “How bad can thirty-six hours be? Like you said, your mom absolutely insisted you come home for the big Christmas party she throws every year. From how you’ve described it, it sounds like the Hallmark Channel should set a movie at your house. There’s gonna be some big announcement that she wants you to be there for. We’ll be there. Together.” He emphasized the word ‘together,’ giving it added resonance. 

“If how you describe your house is even remotely true…”

“It is,” Lauren said. 

“Fine, then we’ll stay in your room at the far end of the place. Say nice things to all your family and their spouses and their kids and the…what? The folks who are hired to put this thing together. And the cook and the butler and the gardener and all the other types of people you see in ‘Downtown Abbey.’”

Lauren snickered. “We don’t have a butler. Mom wouldn’t dream of giving up that kind of control.”

“Sure whatever. No butler. But how hard can it be to smile nicely, catch up with your brothers and sister, learn what your nieces and nephews are doing, and plaster a fake smile on your face? It’s no big deal. Besides, we’ll be gone by noon tomorrow.” He took his hands off the wheel long enough to pantomime wiping them and tossing an imaginary towel in the trash can. “Viola.”

“If it were only that easy.”

Lauren thought about the simplicity of Alex’s scenario. Could she put on a Hollywood smile and just glide through the evening’s big party like that? Sure, it might be possible. But what damage might ensue? Whose feelings might she mistakenly hurt? 

“C’mon, Lauren, how bad could it be? When did you say was the last time you went home?”

“July Fourth. It was one of mom’s seasonal parties. It’s second only to Christmas. This is the big one. You’re not far off on your Hallmark comment. The party’s been featured in magazines before.” She put up her hands and mimed a newspaper editor envisioning a headline. “Oil maven throws big Christmas bash. Whole town turns out for the party.” She smiled at the memory of how happy her mother was to see that article in print. “She hasn’t stopped talking about that for years. You know how restaurants often frame good reviews on the walls? Well, mom’s got that article hung everywhere, and not just at the office. It’s in the house, almost in every room. It was the best thing to have happened to her after dad died.” Her voice got silent at the thought of another Christmas without her father.

“Hey,” Alex said, his voice softening, “it’s gonna be okay.” He reached over and wrapped his hand around her arm. The warmth of his touch soothed her. She put her hand over his.

“Thanks for coming with me. You being here is really going to make a difference. It’s really going to help me get through this.”

“No problem. I’ll be honest, I know the article you’re talking about.”

Lauren frowned. “How?”

Alex shrugged. “I googled you.”

“Shut up. You didn’t.”

“Of course I did. And you googled me, too.” He arched his eyebrow and looked at her.

“Hey, eyes on the road, buddy.” 

“Not until  you admit you googled me.”

She waited another second or two before speaking. “Okay, okay, I did.” He returned his attention to the two-lane highway. “It’s what you do nowadays.”

“I know. It’s how I learned about that article. I read it, marveling at just how over-the-top it all is.”

“Well, if you’re my mom and there’s a chance to go over the top, she’ll easily do it. Over the years, she’s made sure that everyone knows just how much Christmas spirit she has.”

“The article made it seem like she loves the season.”

“She loves the attention. Her Christmas spirit is via her bank account.”

“It’s still gonna be great to see it all in person. I might even write about it.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I talked with my editor. She said I might be able to do a personal essay thing next week. A glimpse behind the scenes of the biggest Christmas event in the Hill Country.”

A tinge of sourness wormed its way through Lauren. She wasn’t sure why it rubbed her the wrong way, but it did.

“Hey, babe, it was only a suggestion. I don’t have to do it. You know what? I won’t do it.” 

“No, no, that’s okay,” Lauren said. “It just took me by surprise.” She looked out the side window again as Vargas, Texas, came into view. At the sight of her hometown, Lauren’s stomach sank to her feet.

“Well, I’m home.”