A Very Crownmark Christmas

Sometimes life surprises you, unlike cable networks.

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Author's Note

A little romance that's sweet, but nowhere near serious. I hope you enjoy it.

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A Very Crownmark Christmas

A man stood in front of a microphone, paper in hand. In a booming baritone he said, "The Royal Tradition. A Christmas special on—"

"No, no, no." The director paced the room. "Let's hear the next one."

"Sure." the man said, glancing at the paper. He cleared his throat. "A Crownmark holiday special. Hometown Christmas—"

"No. No. And, no." The director stopped pacing and shot glares at the staff seated around the conference table.

"Can someone please explain why we're paying through the nose for a voice actor when every single one of these taglines is atrocious? I mean absolutely complete shit," she said. "Why do I even pay you people? Don't answer that."

The director leveled her gaze on one particular member of her staff—a small framed woman, with curly red hair, who was holding her hand part way up while carefully avoiding the director's eye.

"You. Intern. What is it?"

"Well, uh... ma'am. I was wondering if you got the email I sent you this morning. I had some taglines—"

"Oh, that email." The director shifted her weight to one hip and stared down her nose. "Silly me, how could I have forgotten the email. I deleted it. Now go get me a cappuccino."

The small framed woman lowered her hand. "Yes... ma'am."

She got up from her chair. As she got up, another member of the team spoke.

"Actually, Miss Schumacher, I looked at some of Kristen's taglines. They're pretty good. Maybe we could—"

"Andrew?"

"Yes... ma'am."

"Can it."

"Yes, ma'am."

The director began pacing again. She stopped and looked around the room. "Why are you people still here? Go. Go find me some taglines. And please, for the love of God, something that will help me sell this pig of a show."

The staff leapt from their seats.

"You. Voice-over guy." The director spun on her heel. "Take five. Off the clock."

* * *

"Oh, hey, Andrea," said Kristen, fresh cup of coffee in hand, "Thanks for sticking up for me back there. I heard what you said to the director. It was nice. Thanks."

"Um, Kristen." Andrew said. "It's Andrew now."

"Oh, my God, I'm like—" Kristen's face flushed pink.

"It's okay, you've been away at that big city school for what? Two years, now? Probably didn't expect anything to change in this little town you used to call home, but sometimes..."

"Oh." Kristen set the cup of coffee down and raised her arms to rest a hand on each one of Andrew's shoulders. "And here I thought it was just the haircut and a nice suit."

"Well, as assistant show runner, I do have to keep up certain appearances."

"Andrew. I'm going to have to get used to that. So forgive me if I... But, you look good. It's not just the suit."

"Thanks. Not everyone is as—"

"Intern!" the director hollered. "Where's my coffee?"

Kristen shuddered briefly and reached for the cup. "Coming, ma'am."

She turned to Andrew. "Really. Lookin' good."

"Oh, Andrew?" trilled the director. "Where's my list of new taglines?"

"On its way, ma'am."

"Intern!"

Kristen and Andrew shared a brief smile before hustling off in opposite directions.

* * *

"How was your first day as a big movie star?"

"I'm only an intern, Dad. I don't have any screen time. I mostly fetch coffee."

Kristen's father turned away from the pot he was stirring and gave Kristen a hug. "Maybe I should stop by the studio and have a talk with them. My baby girl is destined for greater things than serving coffee."

"Thanks, Dad, but I want to do this on my own. Prove it to myself, you know."

"I know. I know. Your mother would have been so proud."

"Is that Mom's chicken soup recipe? Doesn't that take all day to make?"

"Nothing's too much effort for my baby girl. And see if the oven's preheated. There's fresh bread to go in."

"Aww, Dad."

"By the way, when are you going to stop by Steve's house? Maybe you could take him some soup in a leftover container. I know how much he likes it."

"Dad, we broke up two years ago."

"I know, but... that's when you went off to that big school in the big city. Now that you're home, I thought that maybe—"

"Maybe I'd want to throw away two years of college and give up the promise of a rewarding career to rekindle a flame with my high school boyfriend?"

Kristen's father stirred the soup in silence for a time.

"I just thought..." he said.

"That kind of fairy tale only happens on TV, Dad. I need to finish my degree if I'm going to live out my dreams, not throw it all away on some guy from my past."

"Honey, if... if you're a lesbian... well, it's okay. I'm still your father and I'll always love you, no matter what."

"Dad. I'm not a lesbian. Steve and I just had different plans for our lives. High school was fun, okay. Prom and all that, but... we just outgrew each other and I'm not a little girl anymore."

"You'll always be my little girl."

"Aw, Dad." Kristen rested her head on her father's arm. "You always know just what to say."

* * *

"Intern!"

"Coming, ma'am." Kristen hustled with a notepad in one hand and a steaming cappuccino in the other.

"Where's my prince?" The director paced the set. "Your highness! You're on in five. Chop chop."

"So this is where the magic happens?" Kristen's father said from behind her.

"Dad?" Kristen almost spilled the hot coffee as she whirled around. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see you at work. You didn't tell me you had royalty on the set. I maybe would've dressed up a little nicer."

"Dad, he's not a real prince. He's just an actor."

"That's a shame. He sure looks princely."

"Dad."

"Intern! Where's. My. Coffee?"

"I've gotta go, Dad."

"Want me to have a talk with your director? I could put in a word—"

"Dad!" Kristen hissed.

"Right. Well, I'll be going then. Give my regards to his royal highness."

"He's not a real—"

"Cut!" the director hollered. "Your highness, perhaps if you could do us all the favor of memorizing your goddamn lines, we could get through this scene before the holidays pass us by. Again from the top."

A crew member stepped up with a clapboard.

"Intern!"

"Coming, ma'am."

Kristen and her father looked into each others eyes for a moment before parting ways.

* * *

"So this is where the magic happens."

Kristen turned around for the second time that morning. "Steve?" she hissed. "What are you doing here?"

"Your dad said you landed an internship at Crownmark Studios. My cousin works the security desk, so I thought maybe I'd stop by and, you know."

"This isn't a good time. I'm working. Why does everybody think... We broke up two years ago, for Pete's sake."

"Hey, Stevereno." Andrew stepped forward.

Steve reached up to grasp one of the lapels on Andrew's suit. "S'up little bro. How's work?"

"Great. As long as people aren't hassling the staff. It kind of puts things behind schedule, and I know you haven't spent much time here, so you've never seen the director when she's—"

"Intern! More coffee!"

Steve turned toward the set. "She's the director? She's feisty."

"She's in a mood." Andrew put a hand on Steve's back and steered him toward the door. "So you need to head on back home, 'kay?"

"Yeah, yeah," Steve said. "Ask Kristen—"

"Ask her what, Steve? You broke up two years ago."

"I don't know. Ask her if she's..." Steve leaned in close. "Is she, like a lesbian or something?"

"Come on, bro. You need to go home."

* * *

"Thanks for what you did today." Kristen stood in front of Andrew. On the set, the crew was taking down scenery and rearranging lighting rigs.

"I know he's your brother and all... And we used to date..." Kristen studied the floor, kicking the toe of her shoe at the carpet. "Well, I really appreciate it."

"It was two years ago," Andrew said. "He needs to move out of our parent's basement and get a life, if you ask me."

Kristen raised her eyes and smiled a faint smile. She twirled her hair around her index finger. "See you tomorrow?" she said.

"I wouldn't miss it. Oh, and one more thing."

Kristen turned.

"Miss Schumacher really likes it when there's a little line cut through the center of the foam on her cappuccino. If you can make it look like a baby owl..." Andrew had a difficult time meeting Kristen's gaze. "Well, that's even better."

"Thanks. I'll remember that." Kristen stopped twirling and tucked her hair behind her ear on one side.

* * *

"Ohh. My cappuccino." The director stopped pacing and stared into the cup. Her mouth twitched at the corners. "It looks like a baby owl."

"Yes ma'am."

"Nice." The director turned to Kristen. "And why are you still here?"

"Well, ma'am. I, uh, was thinking about the show."

"Really? Do tell."

"Yes, ma'am." Kristen shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "It's not very... well, it seems..."

"Out with it."

"It's a cliché, ma'am. Woman in the big city, returns to her small town roots for the holidays. Only to give up everything she's fought so hard to achieve when she falls for... a prince? I mean, what's this prince even doing in her hometown?"

"That's our demographic," the director said. "And it's Christmas, not 'the holidays'. Let's be clear about that."

"But it's so... I don't know... are there even any people of color in this hometown of hers?"

The director threw her head back with a single, short exclamation of laughter. "Don't fret too much, little intern. Studies show our audience is woke. We have a black choir director. Her name's Laquisha or something."

"It's Keisha," said the radiant black woman dressed in a church robe who was walking onto the set. "Just Keisha. No La anything. I'm here for my scene."

"Well, Keisha without the La," the director said, "why don't you hustle yourself on up to the church steps and start singing or something."

Keisha put a hand on her hip. "Oh, and I'm just supposed to do whatever you tell me, is that it?"

"I am the director."

"You know what? No. You can't pay me enough for this." Keisha spun around. She shrugged off her choir robe and tossed it on the floor on her way to the door.

"Where are you going?" the director hollered.

"To fire my agent." said Keisha.

Kristen stood with her mouth agape.

"Intern, tell the casting department we need a new choir director."

Andrew walked over to where Kristen and the director were standing. "She's right, you know," he said. "There's not much diversity in this show."

"And you'd be well served to remember which one of us has junior in his title."

The director stared. Andrew's gaze did not waver.

"Fine," the director huffed. "Intern! Tell the casting department we need a person of color."

"Yes, ma'am." But rather than looking at the director, Kristen's gaze was fixed on Andrew. She smiled. Andrew winked.

* * *

"Is that ham and cheese casserole I smell?" Kristen said as she closed the front door behind her.

Her father appeared, wiping his hands on his kitchen apron. "With the tater tot topping."

"Just like mom used to make." Kristen smiled.

"Just like mom." Her father paused, lost in thought for a moment. "So how was work today?"

"I think they're really starting to listen to me. The director... she actually took my advice on a casting decision."

"That's great, honey," Kristen's father reached out for a hug.

"I know. Andrew's been a big help."

Kristen's father cleared his throat. "Speaking of work. How's that prince? Still handsome as ever?"

"Dad, he's not a prince. He's an actor. And I'm not interested in him."

"Oh, no, I wasn't suggesting you..." Kristen's father rung the kitchen towel in his hands as he searched for his next words. "Um, hang on just a second, honey. I've got something for you."

Kristen waited. Her father reappeared, dragging with him an old vacuum cleaner.

"It was your mother's," he said. "I know she'd want you to have it. I was just waiting for the right time."

Kristen stared at the old machine. "Dad, I don't know what—"

"I know what you're thinking. But I fixed that old bum cord. She purrs just like new. Maybe you want to give 'er a spin while I finish up dinner?"

"Gee, dad, I..."

In the distance, the oven timer beeped, and Kristen's father turned his attention toward the kitchen.

"I figure this could be just what you need when you and Steve work things out. Maybe you'll get a little apartment in town. One less expense you have to worry about."

"I'm not getting back together with Steve."

There was a clatter of pans in the kitchen.

"What's that honey?"

"I said..." Kristen sighed. "I said, it smells delicious, Dad. Now let me help you set the table."

"Oh, this is nothing, honey," her father hollered. "Wait 'til you see the menu I have planned for the big holiday dinner we're hosting."

* * *

Kristen handed a cappuccino to the director and walked off to stand beside Andrew, who was watching the action unfolding on the set.

"What did I miss?" whispered Kristen.

"Not much," he says. "This is the part where she decides to chuck her career in the toilet to run off with this prince."

"Like that would ever happen."

"Yeah. No doubt."

Kristen stood silently for a moment.

"My dad thinks I'm getting back together with Steve."

"Like that would ever happen."

Kristen covered her mouth to suppress a giggle. "Yeah. No doubt."

She wrapped her hands around Andrew's arm and watched the rest of the scene play out with her head resting on his shoulder.

* * *

"Intern!" the director hollered. "I need a stand in for the choir director."

Kristen's eyes went wide as she pointed to herself and shrugged.

"Yes, you. Now get up there and wave your hands around for awhile."

"Yes ma'am."

Up on the set, the prince was yawning.

"Um, Miss Schumacher?" Kristen said.

"Intern?"

"Have you seen Andrew around?"

"He's at the hospital."

"What? Oh, my... What happened?"

"Oh, nothing. It's his brother. Steve, is it?"

"Um, Miss Schumacher. I think I should go. Just to make sure everything's okay."

"Coffee first."

"Yes, ma'am."

* * *

Kristen turned the corner into the hospital room. Her face fell. "Steve, what happened?"

On the bed, Steve was propped up with an IV in his arm and the glazed look of painkillers in his eyes. At the head of the bed was a machine measuring his heart rate with a regular beeping.

"Kristen?" he croaked, "Is that... Is that you?"

"Yes, Steve, I'm here."

"Oh, I'm so glad you came." Steve's words were thick and slow as his head lolled toward Kristen. There was a gleam in his eye. The cardiac monitor beeped a little faster.

"Steve. Steve, what happened?"

"Accident," he slurred. "Fell off a ladder hanging Christmas decorations."

Steve's unfocused gaze was fixed on Kristen now.

"Kristen?"

"Steve."

"What happened between us?"

"Steve, I—"

"Are you a lesbian?"

"What? No! Why does everybody think—"

"Hey Stevereno, I hear you biffed it hanging up the lights again." Andrew's voice came from just inside the doorway.

Kristen turned and smiled. There was a gleam in her eye.

Steve stared at them with glazed eyes. "Take care of her, lil' bro," he whispered.

The cardiac machine tracking the steady rhythm of Steve's heartbeat suddenly stopped beeping, instead singing out one long tone.

A pair of nurses sprinted through the doorway. "I'm sorry, you'll have to wait outside," said the first one.

* * *

"I'm sure you're all anxious to see my daughter's big acting debut in the Christmas special." Kristen's father was at the head of a long table, standing with a glass in his raised hand. "But first, dinner. And what's a dinner without a toast. A toast to the holidays."

Kristen was seated at her father's left. Across from her was the prince, Andrew and the director. Next to Kristen was Steve.

"And, to the Christmas miracle that pulled Steve from the very jaws of death and delivered him to this table, for this special day.

"This dinner was always my wife's favorite part of the season," Kristen's father continued, though visibly choked up. "And last year, after everything that happened, I just couldn't bear... Well, I'm just happy we're all safe and sound."

Kristen's father raised his glass. "Cherish what you have and never let yourself have regrets."

There was a clattering of glassware around the table, and at the table in the next room, and the next, for the entire town had gathered here for Christmas dinner.

"Kristen, I've been such a fool," Steve said, as he stood holding his glass high. His eyes were slightly glazed and unfocused.

The dinner guests fell silent.

Kristen's brow knit together and she began to slide lower in her seat. "Steve..." she said.

"If I may," Steve said. "This is a special year for me, too. I've learned a lot in just the past few days. And, since this is also the year that Kristen has come back for the holidays, there's something I need to say."

A murmur of voices rose and then fell to a hush. All eyes were on the head of the table.

"Kristen, how long have we known each other?"

Kristen sank lower still.

"And all this time, I never realized how much you and Andrew have in common. You're the perfect match for each other. And after we're all stuffed to bursting from this wonderful dinner your father has prepared, I'm going to find some mistletoe and hold it up so you two can finally admit your feelings for each other."

Kristen's eyes went wide. She began to straighten up. Andrew was the first to smile. Steve was next. He looked at Miss Schumacher across the table. Her lips began to twitch.

The sound of happy voices erupted as everyone in the entire town turned to their neighbor to exchange a smile and a kind word. Even the prince, who was not a native of this small hamlet, shared a smile with Kristen's father.

Dishes were passed and the smiling continued, unabated. Somewhere beyond the confines of the happy house, a choir could be heard starting in on Christmas carols. This caused even more smiling.

* * *

"So what do you think?" Kristen said, standing on the front porch, gazing at Andrew.

"I think it was very nice of his royal highness to help your dad with the dishes so you could slip away. But if I have to keep smiling for one more minute, I'm going to pass out."

"No, silly. About what Steve said. The mistletoe."

"Gotcha covered, little bro." Steve staggered out from the front door, fingers wrapped around a bunch of mistletoe. Miss Schumacher was at his side clutching Steve's arm to keep him upright.

Steve held the mistletoe high. Kristen and Andrew looked into each other's eyes.

"Come on guys," Steve slurred. "I kinda forgot about the whole not mixing pain killers with alcohol thing. I've only got a few minutes before I fall over again."

Miss Schumacher tightened her grip.

Kristen and Andrew shrugged and leaned in for a quick peck and then a hug.

"He's right you know," Kristen said.

"About us?" said Andrew.

"Mm-hmm." Kristen stood at Andrew's side, wrapping her hands around his arm and resting her head on his shoulder. "That and the fact that he can't stand up for shit."

Steve stumbled and fell into Miss Schumacher. After she hoisted him back upright, Steve held the mistletoe over their heads. Miss Schumacher wasted no time pushing her fingers through his hair and mashing her lips to his.

They were still pawing at each other when Kristen and Andrew stepped off the porch and onto the sidewalk. A light snow was just beginning to fall. Across the street, on the front steps of the church, a choir was singing carols.

Kristen and Andrew smiled and waved, until they were distracted by the furious honking of a speeding delivery van.