Her Little White Lie (BWWM Romance) by Cj Howard Page A
Authors: Cj Howard
Tags: United States, Romance, Literature & Fiction, Genre Fiction, Urban, African American, Two Hours or More (65-100 Pages)
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and if it didn't, we made a good job of pretending to be the only kids in our school to not like Christmas. When Dad died, our Uncle Zeek moved up north to stay until we became old enough to look after ourselves. He must have been the only atheist in the whole of Bible belt country, because when he moved into our house in Boston there was just no way we'd be putting up a tree or stringing popcorn around it, either.
Since coming to New York and living on my own, I found myself incapable of finding the holiday spirit and, as I'd never been used to it, I still never bothered with Christmas. But after reading those books I wondered, what would it be like? What would it be to stay up late, hang stockings up, leave a glass of milk and a cookie out and wake up the next morning and find presents under a tree that I got to decorate? And what if I had Christmas dinner with a family, ate a roast bird with dressing and pumpkin pie for dessert? What if?
“Grace!”
My supervisor was standing beside me at the Reception Desk. I didn't know for how long, for but her hands were on her hips and her glasses were sliding half way down her nose.
“Are you day dreaming again, Grace Danvers? What if I had been a guest?”
“I'm sorry, Miss Poole, it won't happen again.”
“I'll have to stop you keeping a book under the desk, it really is getting too much.”
“I know, Miss Poole and I'm really sorry. You wanted me?”
“Yes, I'm just finalizing the holiday schedule and confirming you'll be working Christmas Day as usual.”
“Christmas Day?”
“Yes, you remember Christmas Day, Grace. Every year, December 25th, without fail.”
“Er, no, Miss Poole, I'm doing the traditional Christmas Day this holiday so I'm not free.”
“You're not?”
Now let me just freeze frame. You know and I know that was a lie. I don't know why I said it.
Whether it was to wipe that grin off Miss Poole's face or if I genuinely believed that this year I could have a normal Christmas, I don't know.
She looked at me like I was a freak, turned to walk away, and then came back.
“This leaves me in a very awkward situation, Grace,” she said. “Everyone has a family and everyone wants to be with them on the holidays. The schedule goes crazy and I'm left pulling my hair out trying to arrange cover. A hotel like this can't run itself.”
“I know, Miss Poole, but I've worked every Christmas since I’ve been here and this year I've got family commitments, I'm sorry.” The lies just poured out.
She went to walk away and then returned once more.
“Incidentally,” she screwed up her eyes real tight like she was trying to thread a needle. “Since when did you acquire a family?”
“It's my boyfriend's family.”
She raised an eyebrow, expecting me to justify what I was saying.
“My fiancé actually.”
That needle still wasn't threaded.
“His mother is a devout Catholic and she insists on midnight mass and everyone around the table for the Christmas.” I lifted my hands to show how helpless I was in the situation. Luckily, the wonderful Mr. Iglesias, who moved into one of the suites every holiday while visiting family, came to reception.
“Ahh! La Bonita , Grace. Buenos tardes .” His cheeks were round and his smile was so warm.
“Mr. Iglesias, you out for your afternoon stroll?” I asked, taking his room key from him.
I always had time for Mr. Iglesias and he always had time for me. He called me La Princesa Negrita , The Black Princess. It had a ring to it. We'd been friends six years. He wore a brown fedora and a thick, beige wool coat with a cherry-colored scarf tucked in at the neck. He carried a walking stick too, but he always seemed to walk fine to me.
“So, you have some special plans for Christmas Day?” he said, nodding towards Miss Poole, who was still hovering around. “I'm glad to hear it. And with a
Since coming to New York and living on my own, I found myself incapable of finding the holiday spirit and, as I'd never been used to it, I still never bothered with Christmas. But after reading those books I wondered, what would it be like? What would it be to stay up late, hang stockings up, leave a glass of milk and a cookie out and wake up the next morning and find presents under a tree that I got to decorate? And what if I had Christmas dinner with a family, ate a roast bird with dressing and pumpkin pie for dessert? What if?
“Grace!”
My supervisor was standing beside me at the Reception Desk. I didn't know for how long, for but her hands were on her hips and her glasses were sliding half way down her nose.
“Are you day dreaming again, Grace Danvers? What if I had been a guest?”
“I'm sorry, Miss Poole, it won't happen again.”
“I'll have to stop you keeping a book under the desk, it really is getting too much.”
“I know, Miss Poole and I'm really sorry. You wanted me?”
“Yes, I'm just finalizing the holiday schedule and confirming you'll be working Christmas Day as usual.”
“Christmas Day?”
“Yes, you remember Christmas Day, Grace. Every year, December 25th, without fail.”
“Er, no, Miss Poole, I'm doing the traditional Christmas Day this holiday so I'm not free.”
“You're not?”
Now let me just freeze frame. You know and I know that was a lie. I don't know why I said it.
Whether it was to wipe that grin off Miss Poole's face or if I genuinely believed that this year I could have a normal Christmas, I don't know.
She looked at me like I was a freak, turned to walk away, and then came back.
“This leaves me in a very awkward situation, Grace,” she said. “Everyone has a family and everyone wants to be with them on the holidays. The schedule goes crazy and I'm left pulling my hair out trying to arrange cover. A hotel like this can't run itself.”
“I know, Miss Poole, but I've worked every Christmas since I’ve been here and this year I've got family commitments, I'm sorry.” The lies just poured out.
She went to walk away and then returned once more.
“Incidentally,” she screwed up her eyes real tight like she was trying to thread a needle. “Since when did you acquire a family?”
“It's my boyfriend's family.”
She raised an eyebrow, expecting me to justify what I was saying.
“My fiancé actually.”
That needle still wasn't threaded.
“His mother is a devout Catholic and she insists on midnight mass and everyone around the table for the Christmas.” I lifted my hands to show how helpless I was in the situation. Luckily, the wonderful Mr. Iglesias, who moved into one of the suites every holiday while visiting family, came to reception.
“Ahh! La Bonita , Grace. Buenos tardes .” His cheeks were round and his smile was so warm.
“Mr. Iglesias, you out for your afternoon stroll?” I asked, taking his room key from him.
I always had time for Mr. Iglesias and he always had time for me. He called me La Princesa Negrita , The Black Princess. It had a ring to it. We'd been friends six years. He wore a brown fedora and a thick, beige wool coat with a cherry-colored scarf tucked in at the neck. He carried a walking stick too, but he always seemed to walk fine to me.
“So, you have some special plans for Christmas Day?” he said, nodding towards Miss Poole, who was still hovering around. “I'm glad to hear it. And with a
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