Christy Miller Collection Vol 3 Part 23

Unfortunately, Marti, dressed in a green silk outfit, didn't share Christy's enthusiasm. "The shirt is all wrong with that vest. I knew I shouldn't have bought just the vest without getting the right kind of cotton shirt to go with it. Is that all you have? It's too casual. I told you this was a nice restaurant."

"I like it," Christy said. "I think it matches this vest you gave me perfectly."

"You both look terrific," Bob said. "If we want to make our five o'clock reservation, we need to leave now."

"You're right," Marti said, backing down. "But we'll take the vest along with us when we shop tomorrow and see if we can't find a better match for it."

Christy decided a smile was the best response. After all, how could she complain about her aunt's generosity?

Besides, she had learned long ago to protest only the big things, like her uncle's declaration that G.o.d couldn't be loving if He let that little girl in the newspaper starve to death. Christy was no closer to an answer than she had been on Christmas morning when he had asked her. Yet she knew he was wrong, and someday she would show him why.

In the meantime, it was hard to think of that starving girl and fully enjoy her expensive dinner. Christy felt certain that the amount of money Bob was spending on her dinner tonight would feed someone in another country for a week.

Maybe that was part of the answer she would use on Uncle Bob one day. Maybe G.o.d, in His love, had provided an abundance, but people didn't share with those in need, so things became worse until the world ended up as it is today.

Christy liked that answer, although she didn't feel ready to spring it on her uncle.

"Did you decide on a movie?" Bob asked.

"None of the ones on the list looked very interesting. Would it be okay if we rented one instead?"

"Wonderful idea," Marti said. "I'm much more comfortable at home than in a sticky-floored theater. Besides, Bob's new television with the surround sound system makes our family room even better than a theater."

Marti was right. The effect of the huge screen and the sound coming from all directions was dramatic. Christy had selected one of her favorite movies,' and the voices sounded as though they were right behind her. Even though she knew the story by heart, when the movie ended, Christy shuffled off to bed filled with warm, romantic feelings. In her opinion, all movies should leave the viewer with sweet, happy emotions.

The next morning she washed her face, pulled back her hair in a clip, and put on the same clothes she had worn the night before. Scooping up her pile of dirty clothes, she headed downstairs.

Just as her foot hit the bottom step, the doorbell rang. She kept heading for the laundry room with her bundle but then realized no one was answering the door. Maybe Bob and Marti weren't up yet.

Retracing her steps, Christy bent her knees, reached for the doork.n.o.b, and pulled the door open far enough to see who was there. She heard a familiar rippling laugh before she could see over the heap of clothes in her arms. Doug was standing at the door, laughing at her.

"I thought you were the maid," he teased.

"I am, sir," Christy said in a high voice, hiding her face behind the mound of clothes. "Whom do you wish to see, sir Doug cleared his throat. "Would you please inform Mistress Christina that Master Douglas is calling?"

"Yes, sir." Christy attempted a curtsy as she stepped backward.

But she didn't realize the hallway rug had bunched up. On her third step back, she lost her footing and slipped. Doug reached out to steady her, but it was too late. Both her arms flew over her head, ejecting all the laundry into the air. Just before she came down hard on her backside, her left foot got caught behind Doug's right leg, causing him to lose his balance and come crashing down on her leg.

Christy let out a shriek and then burst out laughing as all her dirty laundry showered down on them. One of her wool ski socks landed on Doug's head. Christy silently thanked the Lord that a sock, and not her underwear, had crowned him.

"Are you all right?" Doug asked in a gurgle of laughter, rolling his eyes upward to view the sock that was partially hanging down on his forehead.

Christy was laughing so hard she couldn't answer.

"What's going on down there?" Marti called from the top of the stairs.

Bob appeared from the kitchen, a spatula in his hand, asking the same question.

Christy and Doug were both so overcome with laughter that neither of them could speak.

Marti rushed to Christy's side and began to s.n.a.t.c.h up all the personal articles that had flown in the collision. Doug shook the sock from his head and pulled himself up. He offered Christy a hand to help her up. She was still laughing and felt certain her legs would give way if she tried to stand.

"Just a minute," she said, trying hard to compose herself. She stretched out her arm and took Doug's hand. He drew her up to a standing position and started to laugh all over again.

"What happened here?" Marti wanted to know.

"The doorbell rang, and I had my arms full of laundry," Christy managed to explain before feeling another surge of laughter rising to the surface.

"So, what was all this?" Bob said dryly. "The spin-dry cycle?"

Christy, and Doug looked at each other and burst out laughing again.

"Honestly," Marti muttered, gathering up the rest of the clothes and marching off to the laundry room with her arms full.

"When you two can see straight again, I have some scrambled eggs ready." Bob lifted his spatula into the air and charged back into the kitchen.

Christy caught her breath. Wiping the laughter tears from her eyes, she asked Doug in her pretend maid voice, 'Would you care for some breakfast, sir?"

"Sure," Doug said. "On one condition."

"What's that?"

He bent his knees, and before Christy realized what was happening, he placed one strong arm across her back and the other under her knees, scooped her up, and carried her toward the kitchen. "You let me do all the walking this time."

Christy asked Doug once she was safely seated in her chair at the kitchen table.

"I called your house last night. Your mom told me. She also told me you're going to the Rose Parade with us."

"To the parade, yes. Overnight, no."

"How are you getting up to Pasadena?" Doug asked.

"My favorite chef is taking me," Christy said as her uncle scooped a small portion of scrambled eggs onto her plate and popped two sausages next to it. "Oh, Bob? Have you met Doug? Doug, this is my Uncle Bob."

Doug extended his hand to shake Bob's, but Bob had a frying pan in one hand and a spatula in the other.

"Nice to meet you, Doug. Say when." Bob began to shovel eggs onto Doug's plate.

Christy watched as the plate became nearly covered with the mound before he said, "That looks great. Thanks."

"Do six of these sausages sound like a good start for you?" Bob asked. "I can make more. I have toast coming too.

"Sounds great. I sure appreciate this." Doug sprinkled pepper over his eggs.

"You know," Doug said to Christy, "I was thinking of driving up to Pasadena early that morning. You could come with me if you wanted to. I mean, if your uncle doesn't mind."

'You can call me Bob," he said, placing a plate of toast before them. "And no, I don't mind. It's up to Christy."

She looked at her uncle and then back at Doug. 'You really weren't planning on going up that morning, were you, Doug? You wanted to sleep over ever since we started talking about this."

"I've done the sleepover part before. It's all right. It gets cold, though; you don't sleep at all; and the junk food only gives you a buzz for about the first four hours. By the time the parade starts, everyone is kind of burned out. I'd much rather drive up that morning. We can start early, stop along the way for breakfast, and then join our cranky, hungry friends. What do you think?"

"I know you're doing this to be nice, Doug."

"Okay, so I'm nice. Do you want to go with me?"

"Sure," Christy finally agreed. "I'll have to ask my parents to make sure it's all right with them."

Doug smiled and shoveled another forkful of eggs into his mouth. Christy glanced at her uncle. He winked at her, and she knew the matchmaker wheels were spinning in his head. It reminded her of Jon and the fortune cookie that said she didn't know what she had before her.

Could it be that Doug actually was interested in her as more than a friend? She wasn't sure she was ready to process that thought.

Marti made her grand appearance with her hair done and her makeup on. Christy introduced the two, and Marti said, "I'm sure I've seen you around before. Weren't you the one who stopped by in the yellow truck last year right after Christy and I returned from the hair salon?"

Boy, Aunt Marti, you should consider volunteering for the FBI! I'd forgotten all about that You don't miss a thing, do you?

"Could have been me," Doug said. It obviously wasn't a monumental memory to him.

Christy remembered it because she had just come from the hair salon, and she and Doug were standing in the front yard talking. Doug had said her hair smelled like apples and leaned over to smell it just as Todd drove by. Christy had felt certain that Todd had seen her with Doug in their awkwardly close position.

Things sure change in a year. I was so embarra.s.sed then. But this morning Doug falls all over me, and I think it's funny. Have I changed? Has Doug? What's different?

Christy remembered one other incident that happened that day a year ago. That's when Doug told her he was going to take Tracy out. Even though nothing seemed to come of their dating, Christy had noticed when they went out to pizza after the sledding that Doug and Tracy still acted like close friends. That's the way Christy wanted to be with Rick.

Christy decided that as soon as she could break free from Aunt Marti's schedule, she would see Tracy and ask her how she had managed to remain such good friends with Doug.

"I thought we'd go shopping first thing, Christy," Marti stated. "And Bob, I have a grocery list all ready for the party, anda"oh, Doug, how rude of me!"

"What?" Doug asked. "Do you have a ch.o.r.e on your list for me too?"

"Of course not! I nearly forgot to invite you to my party. I mean, to Christy's party. We're having a party for Christy on New Year's Day right after the Rose Parade. I do hope you'll be able to come."

"Sure. Sounds great," Doug said.

"All your friends are invited, and we'll have lots of food."

"And football on my new TV," Bob added.

"Count me in." Doug finished his last crumb of toast.

Christy couldn't believe he had eaten everything set before him.

"Wonderful." Marti reached for her notepad on the counter. "That's one I can check off my guest list. Or rather, Christy's guest list."

Get a life, Aunt Martha!

"Sounds like all of you have a busy day planned. I don't mean to hold you up," Doug said, scooting back his chair. "I did want to ask you though, Christy, if you don't already have plans for tonight, do you want to have dinner with me over at Tracy's house?"

For a minute Christy thought he was asking her out to dinner, and she started to feel panicked, not knowing how to answer.

"Are you sure it's okay with Tracy and her mom?" Christy asked when she realized the offer was to go to Tracy's house.

"Of course. I told Tracy last night that you were here, and she asked me to invite you."

"I'd like to see her," Christy said. "If you're sure it's okay, then yes, I'd like to come."

"Great! Why don't I pick you up around 5:45?"

"Do you mean pick her up in your car or pick her up the way you delivered her to the breakfast table?" Bob asked with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

Doug pushed himself back from the table and smiled down at Christy. "Whatever it takes," he said. "Preferably just in my truck."

Christy started to rise from the table. Doug put out his hand to stop her.

"Please, don't bother seeing me to the door. I'd like to make my exit a little less eventful than my entrance."

Christy smiled back, "As you wish, sir."

"Thanks again for the breakfast." Doug waved to Bob and Marti. Pointing at Christy, he said, "I'll see you tonight." Bob and Marti looked at Christy with knowing grins as they listened to Doug walk toward the front door.

The minute Christy heard the door close, she blurted out, "I know what you're both thinking, and you can stop right now!"

Bob and Marti exchanged innocent looks and playfully shrugged their shoulders.

"He's just Doug. We're just friends. He's being nice to me, that's all. Stop looking at me like that!"

Bob silently cleared the table. Marti scribbled something on one of her notes. Looking up with a straight face, she said, "Shall we go shopping, then?"

Christy obediently followed her aunt's schedule, waiting all day for Marti to say something about Doug. To Marti's credit, she didn't say a word.

They shopped for four hours, and Christy picked out two outfits, both on sale. They came home, and she finished her laundry and straightened up the guest room. Still Marti said nothing. Bob coaxed Christy into a short walk on the beach later in the afternoon. She felt certain he would have some words of wisdom regarding Doug. But, no. Bob was silent too.

She actually felt relieved when Doug showed up. Now she could stop constructing explanations in her mind.

Doug opened the truck door for her, and she climbed in. The feeling of being free to come and go under Bob and Marti's unrestrictive care was something Christy always enjoyed. It always felt like a little vacation from the more confining rules of her parents at home.

Some letters lay on the driver's seat, and Christy picked them up so Doug could get in without sitting on them.

"Anything exciting in your mail today?" she asked.

She really wanted to ask if Todd had ever written to him, but she knew it wasn't likely.

"Sorry about that." Doug took the mail from her and stuck it in the side pocket on the inside of his door.

Then, pulling one letter out, he said, "As a matter of fact, yes. I received a letter today fromjoab."

Doug handed her a piece of unusual brownish paper with tiny scribbled words written in pencil. It was hard to read.