Chapter Twenty-Eight

Jen

 

When we got to the Mid-Century Modern in the Bird Streets, she gifted us flannel PJs.

“Because no one’s comfortable lounging for movies in their fancy duds.”

Even Grandma had a pair her size. Moreover, I loved that these were Christmas prints.

I hugged Hannah. “I love you.”

“I know.” She squeezed my waist, then focused on her hosting duties. “Okay, everybody, bedrooms and bathrooms are down that hall. The first door is the guest bedroom and bathroom, so you can change in there whenever you want to get casual.” Maria had gone straight to the fridge. “We have crackers and veggies and dip if you get the munchies and there will be dinner later. Should we put in the first movie?”

“Jingle All the Way!” Shelley said.

“Honey, no,” Celeste said, already dipping celery in onion dip.

Grandma had taken up residence in the comfy chair. “Jennifer’s day. She gets first dibs.”

It was my first time in the Jorgenson house in a while and I was admiring one of Hannah’s new woven tapestries. “Hm? There’s no rush…maybe we put on some music?”

“I can do that,” she said, moving to the sound system. They loved vintage tunes, so I knew she’d have some good albums. A brief musical prelude, then the heavenly voice of Andy Williams.

“Now there was a man who could sing,” Grandma said. “Him and Bing.”

“Michael Buble’s carrying on that vibe,” Beth said.

“And Harry Connick Jr.,” Celeste added. She sat next to Beth with a cocktail glass in hand.

Beth sniffed. “I can smell the rum.”

“Hey, I’m not going anywhere for hours, and Maria makes awesome eggnog.”

“But I have regular cider and stuff for anyone who isn’t drinking,” Hannah said.

“Everyone sit,” Mom ordered. “This is supposed to be fun.”

Mike and Hannah didn’t normally have seating for eight in the living room. The large TV was mounted above the mantel in an open-concept area, so one could see and hear from almost anywhere, but Mike’s sofa seated three people comfortably and two upholstered chairs flanked it, making a U around the coffee table. Four barstools sat at the kitchen island.

Hannah had borrowed or bought some folding chairs, but who was going to get the unlucky seat? No one was booting Grandma.

“What’s your first dance song going to be, Jen?” Celeste asked. She’d stood to sway to Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree.

I took the spot next to Beth. “I don’t know. We don’t have an our song thing.”

“Your father and I danced to At Last,” Grandma said to Mom.

“I know,” she replied with a smile. “I’ve heard the story many times.”

“The rest of us haven’t,” Shelley said. She’d claimed a floor cushion pillow and sat Indian-style. Maria brought the platter to the coffee table.

“Well, it was 1958…”

Grandma became a widow at fifty years old. Surprise heart attack. One minute, Grandpa was hale and hearty; the next, he wasn’t. An autopsy showed there was a defect no one knew about, especially in the ‘80s. I still cherished the letter she sent me after Lee died.

Her story got us sharing the moments we fell in love with our men and that was a good way to pass the time. I hoped Shelley was getting some wisdom from it.

When it got to around two, Grandma grabbed the armrests of the chair and pushed herself up. “Well, kids, I haven’t even unpacked my suitcase, yet, and I could use a nap.”

“Let’s get you home, Mom.” We never let her stay in a hotel.

Hugs, kisses, nice-to-meet-yous, and goodnights, then they left, Mom saying she’d be back tonight at some point.

I needed the little girl’s room, so I used the guest bath with an excuse to change into pajamas. It was movie time.

Hannah pointed at me when I returned. “Now we’re talkin’!”

My friends followed suit, changing wherever there was room and a slight bit of privacy. I loved that all the sets of pajamas had a different print and the package included matching fuzzy socks. As a mountain girl, I had a drawer full of extra-thick, fuzzy, fleeced, toasty socks.

“So, what’s the pick, Jen?” Beth asked.

I went to Hannah’s stack of holiday discs. “White Christmas.”

“You can’t do that one without Mom,” Shelley argued.

“Shit,” I muttered. She was right. Ummm… “Nightmare Before Christmas, then.”

The soundtrack was fun to sing along to, and ultimately, it was a romance.

“Thennn….we can watch my Jingle All the Way?”

I narrowed my eyes at my sister. “Maybe.” She was the maid of honor.

But Hannah had a lot of great movies, like Love Actually, The Holiday, Scrooged, old classics…our first movie was only seventy-six minutes, but White Christmas was two hours.

“I like Die Hard and Lethal Weapon.” Our heads swung to Maria, who shrugged. “They take place at Christmas and I like action.”

“No wonder the boys love you so much,” Beth said, winking to confirm the tease.

Maria laughed. “You live in a house of men, you either like things they like or go nuts.”

Hannah pressed Play for Nightmare and we settled in.

Celeste got up. “I need a refill.”

“Lush,” Beth said. They’d been friends a long time, so there was no sting in it.

“Proudly.”

This group of women gave me comfort for bringing a baby into the world in six or seven months. The past year since meeting Dylan and getting drawn into his world had made it clear that it’d been a long time since I had close relationships in my life.

I didn’t have to be alone ever again.

Shelley loved singing along to This Is Halloween. Seeing Beth and Hannah get into What’s This? made me laugh.

We’d made it to Oogie Boogie’s Song when there was a knock on the front door.

Assuming it was Mom, I went to let her in.

I opened the door to Santa.

“Ho. Ho. Ho!”

Oh, he didn’t…

“Have you been a good girl this year?” the man in the Santa costume asked. “Because that’s not what I’ve heard.” And then his pocket started playing music.

Cheesy, stereotypical stripper music.

“What is it, Jen?” Hannah called out.

Stripper Santa swept past me. “It’s Santa Claus!” He bust into the living room and ripped open his jacket to reveal a tanned chest and suspenders holding up the fuzzy red pants.

Celeste whooped and dug into her purse for cash. Everyone else stared agog.

I nearly peed myself laughing.

Once I could breathe again, I found my phone and called my fiancé.

“You are so dead.”

Not really, but why not make him sweat a little?

“What?” Loud music was in the background.

I stood on the porch. “I can’t believe you sent a stripping Santa!”

“Hold on!” A few seconds, then the background noise lessened. “Jen?”

“You are so dead. I can’t believe you sent a stripping Santa.”

“Did I?”

“We talked about it last night.”

“Did it make you laugh?” I imagined the self-satisfied grin on his face.

“Yes, you asshole.” I couldn’t hold back the giggles anymore. “You’re nuts.”

“But I’m your nut.”

“My little sister is here, you know.”

“Don’t worry, the guy has strict instructions to keep it PG-13. I told him it was a joke.”

“Where are you?”

“Strip club.”

“Ha, ha.”

“No, really,” he said with a groan. “Bob’s idea. They actually serve a good steak lunch.”

“You didn’t tell me your bachelor party is today.”

“I don’t think it is? Bob showed up to take me out and no one has joined us.”

“Ah…” Weirdo. “Well, be safe.”

He laughed. “I love you. I promise I’m not ogling the dancers.”

I smiled at his worry. “I trust you. Bye.”

And now to deal with Santa.

Who was dancing with Maria while the room cheered her on. Dude had some pretty decent moves. Maybe he’d taken actual classes. Plenty of creatives in L.A. worked what they could find to keep a roof over their heads, after all.

I went to stand beside my sister. “Tell Mom and I’ll haunt you in your sleep.”

“Do I look stupid?” She swayed to the music. “Where did he come from?”

“Dylan playing a practical joke.”

“Good one!”

“There’s the bride.” Stripper Santa put a plastic tiara on my head, grabbed my hand, and twirled me. What all was he hiding in those deep pockets?

“Lap dance!” Celeste exclaimed.

“No.”

“Then can I have one?”

Beth slapped her arm. “We have a minor in the room.”

Ultimately, Santa was probably a nice guy. He gave all of us a spin around the room, didn’t get handsy, kept the gyrations to a minimum, and produced candy canes when his time was up—which was only thirty minutes. Because he made us laugh, I asked for a group photo.

A great memory for the scrapbook, right? All of us girls in pajamas gathered around a shirtless guy in Santa pants and a fake white beard.

Celeste escorted him out. “Do you have a business card…?”