The Christmas Contract

Romance - Part 1 - Noelle Carol returns home from the Big City for her brother's Christmas wedding and finds a few surprises waiting for her

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Christmas cheer practically oozed from every shop window and street corner of Festive Falls. Folks old and young, bundled from head to toe in the typical winter gear, waved and smiled to each other as they milled about on main street. It was twelve days until Christmas and the whole town was buzzing with joy and goodwill toward their neighbors.

Me, on the other hand, I was feeling myself sinking down lower and lower into the special type of dread that comes along with returning to your small hometown after a long, much needed retreat to the city. I didn’t dislike Festive Falls, it just didn’t offer me anything more than the family business and heartbreak. In the five years I’d been gone, the town hadn’t changed at all. Every landmark in the town still stood as a perfectly preserved mockery of my youth and all that I once believed to be true.

I groaned and reminded myself that I was only there for my older brother’s wedding. Chris and Holly were the perfect couple, high school sweethearts who both ran their respective family businesses — Chris with Carol Tree Farm and Holly with Snow Family Dog Rescue. They were meant for each other — and meant for Festive Falls.

As I closed the car door and stepped onto the gravel driveway of my childhood home, the usual warm feelings flooded me, despite my reluctance to be there. The white, colonial-era house with its dark trim and wrap-around porch greeted me as it always did — with open arms and memories of birthdays, Christmases, and summer vacations past.

The good feeling lasted until I walked past the big oak tree in the front yard that still had an old tire swing hanging from its largest branch. I frowned at the tree, then took a deep breath.

Hold it together, Noelle. Twelve days, then you get to escape back to your luxury apartment. Do it for Chris.

At the front door, I hesitated, wondering if I should knock or just go in. The sudden sound of Chris’ signature laugh from inside the house was contagious. I laughed to myself and pushed the door open to enter.

Immediately, the smell of freshly baked cookies met my nose. From the entryway, I could hear more of my family’s animated conversation. The usual Christmas decorations lined the entrance and staircase: garlands, nutcrackers, and cute little red trucks.

Maybe this will be okay.

I let the front door slam behind me and yelled, “Merry Christmas!”

A few squeals of excitement preceded the pounding of feet to the doorway. In seconds, my mother’s arms were wrapped around me.

“Noelle!” she cried as she squeezed me tightly. I squeezed back and inhaled her classic scent of jasmine and clean laundry. When she let go and held me at arm’s length, there were tears in her eyes. Guilt hit me square in the chest.

“Mom!” I whined.

“I’m just so happy you’re here.”

“Of course, she’s here!” Chris shoved his way in for a quick hug. “She wouldn’t dare miss the wedding!”

I laughed but before I could agree, Holly rushed forth and brought me into her delicate embrace.

“My maid of honor,” she smiled warmly at me when she let me go, the freckles on her ivory cheeks rising up to meet her eyes.

“Holly! I’ve missed you! How has the rescue been going?”

She opened her mouth to reply, one finger raised in the air, but was cut off by the booming voice of my father.

“There she is! Finally!” He spoke in a lower tone as he embraced me, “Welcome home, Noelle.”

My heart was full. “Dad!” was all I managed to say.

Chris interrupted the moment. “Oh hey, now that Noelle is here, should we head into town for that thing you needed?”

“Yes!” My mother clapped her hands, then addressed me. “Noelle, you know how to navigate the fancy shops. I need a panettone mold. Can you take your brother into town for that?” she winked at me. “Me and Holly have wedding details to discuss anyway.”

“Sure,” I droned. “Let me run upstairs and drop off my bags. But” — I pointed to Chris — “you’re driving.” He replied with a thumbs up on his way to the coat closet.

Upstairs, in my old room, I was unprepared for the rush of nostalgia that hit me. Photos of old friends, movie posters, and sports trophies acted as a shrine to a girl who didn’t exist anymore. One photo of said dark-haired girl and a blonde boy stuck in the mirror above the dresser caught my eye as I scanned the room.

My stomach dropped and I was unwillingly plunged back into a very vivid recollection of that weekend at the lake, frozen in the glossy print. I crossed to the mirror and ripped the photo from its perch. I quickly stuffed it into a drawer of the dresser beneath.

“Noelle! NOELLE!” Chris barked from downstairs. “Let’s go!”

For Chris and Holly, I reminded myself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Country music blared through the speakers in Chris’ car. I went to switch it to the local 24-hour Christmas radio station, but he swatted my hand away as soon as the first notes of Frosty the Snowman played.

“Grinch!” I laughed.

“Mom has Christmas music playing all the time at home.”

“Fair enough,” I conceded.

We sat in silence as we returned to downtown Festive Falls. Chris sighed, then shifted. I rolled my eyes.

“Out with it,” I demanded.

“Mom wanted me to talk to you.”

I groaned and faced my window. “Why?”

“Well, you haven’t been home in so long. We never get to see you —”

“I paid for your stay in the city last summer” — I held up a questioning hand and turned to him — “and took you on a tour.”

“Yeah, but we miss you, Noelle.”

Guilt. Red-hot, searing guilt, again. I looked back out the window at all the happy shoppers. Chris wasn’t done twisting the knife.

“It was a long time ago. You can let it go. Adam moved on.”

That last part felt like a stab rather than a twist. I whipped my head back around, a curtain of long dark hair hitting my face as I did so.

“What? What does that mean?”

Chris looked a little frightened by my unexpected shift in attitude.

“Nothing. He just — he got — “

“Don’t say it!” I interrupted. I jabbed my pointer finger into his face.

“Engaged —”

“I said ‘don’t’!”

“Last year.”

My face fell. My whole spirit fell. He looked me in the eyes as we stopped at a red light.

“I’m sorry. But maybe it’ll help to know,” he said softly.

I shook my head. “It’s okay.” I cleared my throat and blinked back tears. “You’re right.”

He shut off the radio and we rode in silence. A few minutes later, we parked on main street. We emerged from the warm interior of the car into the crisp late afternoon air that smelled of pine and pending snowfall.

“Fancy store is down a ways,” he nodded in the direction of the large decorated tree in the town square.

“Right.”

We began down the crowded sidewalk, dodging joyful, excited people as we went. Up ahead, on the corner of the street, a man in a Santa costume stood ringing a big, silver metal bell. He bellowed over the heads of the passersby.

“Ho! Ho! Ho!”

As we passed, the Santa impersonator made eye contact with me. “Welcome home, Noelle!” he called out.

I stopped in my tracks and stared Santa down. “What?” My question was too quiet for anyone to hear. I ran after Chris, grabbed his jacket sleeve, and tried to pull him back to where Santa had been. I pointed behind me with my other hand.

“Chris! That Santa —”

He looked where I was pointing and then I looked where I was pointing. Santa was gone.

“He must have — Chris! Look out!” He turned again to see what my wide-eyed gape was aimed at.

While we had been searching the crowd for my creepy Santa, a cart laden with potted poinsettia plants had swerved to avoid a pedestrian and become unbalanced. The entire cart was about to crash down onto Chris.

I grabbed two handfuls of the back of his jacket and yanked him backward toward me. He recovered and barely missed the avalanche of red leaves and dirt that spread across the sidewalk.

The same did not occur for me. I backed up and got the heel of my black patent leather pump stuck in a crack in the sidewalk. My arms windmilled as I scrambled for balance and let forth a very girlish squeak. There was no hope for me — I went down in a slow arc toward the cement. I braced myself for the embarrassment and the smack against the pavement. Thoughts of bed rest while everyone enjoyed festivities and dancing at the wedding in cast flashed instantly in my mind. Then, everything stood still. I found myself supported by two strong forearms hooked under my armpits instead of sprawling out on the sidewalk for everyone to see.

“Someone keep this girl away from the spiked egg nog,” came the warm, alluring voice of my rescuer. I looked up into deep blue eyes just as his face spread into a rather charming smile. I blinked, and found myself unable to respond in my very rattled state.

“Nice catch, Luke!” Chris ambled up to us.

I frowned and looked from my handsome hero to my brother. “Luke?!”

“Noelle.” The man set me back up on my feet. “Don’t recognize me with the beard?”

I wiggled out of his grasp and smoothed down my coat. He tried to steady me with a hand on my elbow but I pulled away. He laughed at me.

Turning my back to Luke, I stepped closer to Chris and whispered, “You didn’t say Luke Winter would be here.”

He replied at full volume. “Well, of course he’s here. Who else would be my best man?”

“I don’t like him,” I whispered again.

“Why don’t you like him?” My brother practically shouted.

Heat crawled up my neck into my face. I narrowed my eyes at him and spun around to look at Luke.

“Your nostrils are flaring that way they do when you’re super mad,” he pointed out. Both men snickered.

Great. This holiday just turned into every afternoon of grade school with these two making fun of me all the time. Chris had no idea how annoying he became around Luke.

They embraced each other in a “bro” hug with plenty of slaps on the back.

“Glad you could make it, “ my brother beamed at his childhood friend.

“Of course, man! Congratulations!” Luke smiled genuinely back at him. They began discussing the drive up from the city as if I wasn’t there.

“Oh, we were on our way to get something for my mom. You should join us” — Chris brightened at an apparently genius idea — “Why don’t you come over for dinner afterward? Mom would love to see you. In fact, she’s already got your room at the house ready in case you didn’t want to stay at the inn downtown.”

Horror at the thought of spending the whole afternoon and evening with someone I had been very happy to never see again left me speechless. Add to that the possibility of him sleeping under the same roof as me — this couldn’t be happening. It was my first night back in five years and my brother had given up all our time together for Luke.

“That would be great! I just got into town and would love to catch up.” Luke clapped my brother on the back. “And you know I prefer Pam’s breakfast over the eggs at the inn.” He shot me a wink before following Chris down the street.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a torturous half hour in the store buying the bread mold, we drove home. Chris and Luke talked the entire way home. I did my best to shoot lasers out of my eyes and into the back of Luke’s head from the backseat. He turned around once to ask me how I was “doing back there” and laughed when I replied with a tight smile.

When we got home, the two of them bounded up the porch stairs and through the door like two little boys, shoving and one-upping each other. From my place by the car, I could hear everyone inside the house yelling Luke’s name all at once. I rolled my eyes, shut the car door, and trudged up the stairs.

No one noticed me when I entered, even though I slammed the door and sent the jingle bells hanging from the knob into a cacophonous frenzy.

The scene in the kitchen did nothing for my mood. Luke was busy entertaining my father with a story that they both found hilarious. My mom was setting the table for dinner and talking to herself about how nice it was to have a surprise guest for dinner. Chris was digging in the fridge for something.

“Here you go,” Holly’s voice at my side startled me out of my trauma-induced out-of-body experience. She held out a full glass of red wine to me.

I sighed and accepted. “Thank you.”

She smiled sympathetically. “I know how they get when they’re together. I’ll talk to Chris.” She patted my shoulder.

“No, don’t,” I grumbled. “It’s his wedding. I can suck it up and be nice.”

She smiled again. “Drink the wine,” she coaxed before walking away.

My mother noticed me then. “Noelle!” she called. “Come sit for dinner.”

Everyone claimed a chair around the table until there were only two empty seats next to each other. Of course, Luke and I were the last to sit. I looked at Holly, who shrugged. I looked at my mom, seated next to her.

“Mom, can I switch with you? I really want to talk to Holly for a bit.” I stretched my face into a huge, overexaggerated smile. “Wedding stuff!”

No one bought my act. “Sit,” my mom gestured at the chairs. I could have sworn I saw my dad hold back a laugh.

I went to sit, but Luke grabbed the back of the chair I was aiming for. I moved to the other chair, just as he did as well. He grinned a big goofy grin and did a playful little dance between the chairbacks.

“Please stop,” I said flatly.

“Noelle,” my mother hissed.

Luke pulled out a chair for me and I sat with a huff. He plopped down next to me and immediately grabbed my glass of water and took a huge swig. No one noticed and if I complained, I’d sound stupid, so I grit my teeth and let it go.

“Pass the potatoes, please,” I called out sweetly.

The bowl of potatoes found its way to Luke, who then placed the bowl in front of me, but too far for me to grab without standing up. This time someone noticed his antics.

“Aww, little T-rex arms can’t reach!” Chris said in a mocking baby-talk voice, which earned a chuckle from Luke and my dad. I decided to skip the potatoes.

“So how come you two never hang out in the city?” my mom piped up. “Noelle’s in marketing and Luke —” she trailed off.

“Web development. Making websites for clients,” he answered.

“That’s right. Seems like you two would have crossed paths at some point.”

I opened my mouth to speak but Luke beat me to it.

“Well, Pam, I did call Noelle several times and even once arranged to meet up.”

All eyes were on me. My mouth snapped shut.

“But,” he sighed loudly, “she stood me up. I waited at the theater for over an hour.” He raised his eyebrows at me expectantly.

“Noelle?” My dad’s questioning look held a hint of disappointment.

I was at a loss for words. I had forgotten all about that. I remembered then that it had been a rough week at work and I’d also gotten a cryptic text message from Adam. I had replied thinking this was the moment we’d get back together, but he left me on read. It was a bad weekend.

My dad shook his head and went back to eating. Everyone else looked uncomfortable. Now I’m the bad guy. I turned to Luke.

“I’m sorry.”

They wouldn’t understand and I wasn’t going to embarrass myself by explaining. He held my eyes a little longer before going back to his meal. There had seemed to be a hint of bitterness in his gaze. I hadn’t even considered he cared at all about getting together. I figured he was doing it as a favor to my mom, to check up on me.

Conversation picked up around the table again as Luke filled everyone in on a new contract he’d signed with a big client. I poured another glass of wine and mentally ran through my own list of contract-based work and the clients I would need to reach in the morning.

Finally, dinner was over and everyone gathered in the living room. I followed after a few minutes of checking emails on my phone. I planned on announcing my departure to bed for the night when I entered the living room, but the sight I beheld sent me into a fury.

My mother was passing the star that goes on top of our Christmas tree every year into Luke’s waiting hands. That was my star. I always put it on the tree.

I crossed the room and reached for the big golden tree topper but Luke was too fast. He held the star behind his back. I reached again, but couldn’t get my arms around him without touching him. He spun out of the way every time.

“That’s my star! Hand it over,” I grunted.

“Noelle!” my mother chided, “Luke has been putting the star on our tree every year since his parents died in that horrible carnival accident.”

I stopped and looked at everyone. Again, I looked like the bad guy and they looked uncomfortable — mortified, even.

“But,” I pleaded to my mom, “I always do it.”

“You haven’t been home for Christmas in five years, kiddo,” my dad chimed in.

“But I’m here now!” It took everything I had not to stomp my feet. I held out my hand to Luke, hoping he’d give up the star. I tried to appear calm and friendly despite the tantrum I felt building. “Come on. This is silly. I’m here now, so I will do it.”

It seemed I had fallen right into the trap of childish behavior he had been trying to bait me with all afternoon. Being much taller than I was, he had the literal upper hand. He dangled the star over my head and yanked it out of my grasping fingers when I reached for it

“If you can grab it, you can have it,” he smirked.

A few comments of disapproval for his taunting came from my family but he kept on dipping the tree topper down to my head and I kept swiping my arms up wildly to get it. Frustration and anger mounted in me to an unbelievable, unbearable level and my own solution was to try and inflict bodily harm upon him.

The next time I went to reach for the star and he raised it higher into the air, I slammed both hands directly into his chest and shoved him hard. Down he went like a felled tree — into our tree.

My mom screamed. Holly gasped. Luke yelled. And our whole Christmas tree nearly disappeared under the large man’s flannel-and-denim-donned body. I heard a few ornaments shatter and hoped they weren’t keepsakes.

A stunned silence fell over the room. Everyone looked at me as if I were some hideous, raging monster, and based on how I’d just lost my mind over a glittery Christmas decoration, maybe I was a monster.

“I am so sorry,” I said to my mother.

She fought back tears as she replied, “Both of you, got to your rooms.”

My dad went to help Luke up. I felt stupid and misunderstood as I watched. I tried to step toward my mother but she held up her hands and walked back to the kitchen. Without meeting anyone’s eyes, I spun on my heel and made my way up the stairs.

In my room, I flopped down on my freshly laundered sheets and cried. I was convinced there was no way this could get any worse. How was I going to make it through eleven more days of this?

I dressed for bed and got under the covers. The whole afternoon and evening replayed in my mind before I fell asleep. As I drifted off, my thoughts lingered on the way Luke’s eyes had stared into mine when he’d saved me from falling in the street.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the morning, after a quick scan through my emails, I decided to put on a brave face and go downstairs to apologize to everyone. Everyone except Luke, that is.

I crossed the living room and winced when I saw our tree propped up again, a few of its branches broken off. Before I reached the kitchen, I noted how quiet it was for the hour. The cozy little space should have been filled with lively talk and the clinking of silverware on plates.

The only people in the kitchen were my dad and, much to my annoyance, Luke.

“Good. You’re here,” my father set down a piece of paper and a pen on the white-tiled counter in front of us.

“Where is everyone?” I asked.

“They ate and left early. You know,” he emphasized his next words, “wedding stuff.”

Shame surged through me. I knew it wasn’t just wedding stuff that kept them away. I knew it was me. Luke didn’t look up from the mug of coffee he held.

“Now,” my father declared, “You two have always had it out for each other. It was funny when you were kids. It’s not funny now. Chris and Holly both love you and this is about them, not your petty rivalry.” He leaned in, “Cut it out.”

He gestured at the paper and pen on the counter. “You both deal with contracts every day in your very important, glamorous work in the big city, so maybe you’ll understand this better. You will sign this contract guaranteeing your friendliness and cooperation over the next eleven days. No fighting, no bickering, no picking on each other — not until after the wedding on Christmas. After that, do whatever you like, but until then you will be bound by this contract to get along for the sake of the bride and groom.”

He took a deep breath after his speech, then a drink from his own mug. Luke reached out and picked up the paper. He gave it a quick read, glanced at my dad, then signed. He set the page down and slid it over to me.

I stepped closer and read the contract without touching it. It was all there: “Noelle Carol and Luke Winter agree to a truce until 8:00pm on December 25th, 2025. No exceptions. Any party who breaks this binding agreement forfeits their stay in the Carol household and will be required to seek their own lodging and meals for the duration of their stay.”

The thought of waking up alone on Christmas morning at the inn on Main Street was enough to convince me to sign the contract.

Satisfied with the signatures, my dad nodded and left the kitchen. An awkward moment settled between Luke and I. We shifted, cleared our throats, and sighed, before saying “sorry” at the same time.

He stood, ran a hand through his short, chestnut-colored hair and eyed me up and down.

“You don’t make anything easy,” he muttered.

I wanted to bare my teeth at him, but instead I gave him my best client-forward face and stuck out my hand for him to shake.

“And I never break a contract,” I replied.

He smirked and shook my hand. Eleven days to go.

🎄🎁🎄🎁🎄🎁🎄🎁

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cover image is made from free, unlicensed images found on Google, and photography by Cameron Stewart and Senivpetro

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