Danielle Steel: The House on Hope Street

“How long have you been up?” Jack asked, casting a lazy arm around her, and pulling her closer.

“Jamie came in at six-thirty. He's been very patient, but I don't think he'll hold out for much longer.” Five minutes later, he was back in their bedroom, with the others straggling behind him. The girls looked half asleep, and Peter had an arm around Jamie. He had helped put the bike together for him the night before, and was smiling, thinking of how much Jamie was going to like it.

“Come on, get up, Dad,” Peter said with a grin, pulling the covers off his father, as Jack groaned and rolled over, trying to put a pillow over his head, but just watching him do it brought out a spirit of mischief in his daughters, and before he could defend himself, Annie and Rachel jumped on top of him, and Megan tickled him, as Jamie squealed in delighted excitement. Liz got up and put her robe on as she watched them. They were suddenly a tangle of arms and legs, all acting like little kids again, as their father retaliated and tickled them, and pulled Jamie into bed with him. They were one big pretzel of giggling kids and bodies as Liz laughed and finally rescued Jack, and told them all it was time to go downstairs and see what Santa had left them. Jamie was the first off the bed as soon as she said it, and rushed headlong toward the doorway, and the others followed suit, still laughing, as Peter and Jack walked behind them. Jamie was already halfway down the stairs as the others left their parents’ bedroom.

He couldn't quite see his presents yet, he had to round a turn in the stairs, but as he did he saw it, bright and shiny and red and beautiful, and as Liz watched his face, she felt tears spring to her eyes. The look on Jamie's face was the magic of Christmas, as he saw the bike, and then dove down the stairs to it, and the others all watched him with pride and pleasure. Liz held the bike for him as he got onto it, and Peter took the handlebars and led him around the living room, trying not to run over the others’ presents. But Jamie was so excited he was barely coherent.

“I got it! I got it! Santa gave me the bike!” he shouted to everyone, as Jack put on a CD of Christmas carols. And suddenly, the whole house seemed filled with the Christmas spirit. The girls settled down to open their presents then too, and Peter eventually convinced Jamie to get off the bike for a while, so they could both open their presents. Jack had opened the set of Chaucer by then, and a cashmere jacket Liz had bought for him at Neiman Marcus. And Liz was thrilled when she opened the gold bracelet Jack had bought her the day before, it was perfect for her, and she loved it, as he hoped she would.

They spent half an hour opening gifts, and exclaiming over what they got, and then Jamie got back on the bike again, and Peter helped him balance it, as Liz went to cook their breakfast. She was going to make them all waffles and sausages and bacon, their standard Christmas breakfast. And as she made the waffles and hummed Christmas carols to herself, Jack wandered into the kitchen to keep her company, and she told him again how much she loved her bracelet.

“I love you, Liz,” he said, looking tenderly at her. “Do you ever think about how lucky we are?” He glanced toward the happy sounds coming from the living room as he said it.

“Oh, about a hundred times a day, sometimes more than that.” She came over to put her arms around him and kiss him, and he hugged her tight.

“Thank you for everything you do for me. … I don't know what I ever did to deserve you, but whatever it is, I'm just glad we have each other.” He said it very gently as he held her in his arms.

“Me too,” she said, and then hurried back to the stove to turn the sausages and bacon. He made coffee and poured orange juice while she did the waffles and finished the sausages and bacon, and they all sat down to breakfast shortly after, chattering about their gifts, and laughing and teasing each other. Jamie lay the bike down on the kitchen floor next to him. If they'd have let him, he'd have sat on it while he ate breakfast.

“What's everyone going to do today?” Jack asked as he poured himself a second cup of coffee, and the others groaned over how much they'd eaten and how full they were.

“I have to get the turkey started pretty soon,” Liz said, glancing at the clock. She'd bought a twenty pounder, and it would take most of the day to cook. And Jack had to make his famous stuffing.

The girls said they wanted to try on their gifts and call their friends. Peter wanted to drop in at Jessica's again, and Jamie made him promise to come back soon so he could help him ride his new bike, and Jack said he was going to drop by the office for a little while.

“On Christmas Day?” Liz looked at him in surprise.

‘Just for a few minutes.” He told her he had forgotten one of the files he wanted to work on over the weekend.

“Why don't you forget about it till tomorrow? You don't need it today,” she chided him. He was beginning to sound like a workaholic. After all, it was Christmas Day.

“I'll feel better if I know it's here, then I can just get up tomorrow and do it,” Jack said, looking apologetically at his wife.

“What was that you were telling me about learning to leave my work at the office? Practice what you preach, Counselor.”

“I'll be gone five minutes, and then I'll come home and do the stuffing. I'll be back before you know it.” He smiled at her, and kissed her after the children left, and then he helped her clear the table.

She stayed in the kitchen to start getting the turkey ready, and half an hour later he came downstairs, in khaki pants and a red sweater, freshly shaved.

“Do you need anything?” he asked before he left, and she shook her head and smiled at him.

“Just you. Unlike some people I know, I'm not planning to work this weekend. On holidays, I take the day off.”

She was still wearing her bathrobe, and her red hair looked straight and smooth as it hung below her shoulders, and the big green eyes looked lovingly at him. To him, she didn't look a minute older than when they had married. “I love you, Liz,” he said gently, and kissed her, and then he headed out the door with a smile.

He thought about her all the way to the office, and pulled into his usual parking space outside their building. He let himself in with his keys, and left the door open behind him. He unset the alarm, and walked into their office. He knew exactly where the file was, and knew it would take him less than a minute to get it. And he was already on his way back to reset the alarm, when he heard footsteps in the hallway. He knew there was no one else there, and wondered if Liz had followed him, but that didn't make sense, and he stuck his head out the doorway to see who, if anyone, had come in after he did.

“Hello?” Jack called out, and there was no answer, but he heard a rustling sound, and then a strange metallic click, and as he turned a corner, he found himself suddenly looking straight at Phillip Parker, Amanda's husband. He had an ugly look on his face, and he looked disheveled and dirty and hungover. And then, Jack looked down and saw that Phillip was holding a gun aimed at him, and he felt strangely calm as he spoke to their client's husband. “You don't need that here, Phil. Put the gun down.”

“Don't tell me what to do, you son of a bitch. You thought you could fuck with me, didn't you? Thought you could scare me. Well, you don't scare me, you piss me off. You twisted her around, got her to do everything you wanted, you think you're doing her such a big favor, well, you want to know what you did for her?” Jack saw that he was crying then, and that Parker had a long smear of blood on one sleeve, and he looked like he'd gone crazy. Jack had the feeling that the man holding the gun had either been drugging or drinking. He seemed completely irrational, and hysterical as he rambled. “I told her I'd kill her if you didn't back off…. I'm not going to let you do that to me … you can't freeze everything I own and fuck with me like that. … I told her I'd do it …I told her … she has no right … you have no right. …”