"Hey, what are you doing up here?" She heard a familiar British voice asking.

"Can you just leave me alone?" She said quietly. "Now would be a good time to escape. Tell them to come and arrest me. I'm ready to be done with this family for good."

Liam had come to stand in front of Essie's little perch in the cupola, and there was scarcely enough room for the two of them. But he slid his hand under her chin and tipped it up so she would look at him. "Now, there. They're not all that bad. They're parents who want the best for their kids. They're a little overbearing, yes. And obnoxious. And critical. And rude as all get-out, but hey they're your parents."

Essie smiled a little and asked, "That's supposed to make me feel better?"

"No," he laughed. "I just didn't know what else to say. They are rather...unique."

"You have no idea," Essie said, shaking her head.

"Come on, your sister is looking for you. She wanted to do something with your hair."

"Oh, right. I'll be happy to get back to my normal boring color."

She went to find Abigail, who already had everything set up in the bathroom. She had the foul-smelling mixture ready to scoop onto Essie's head, and then she massaged it in firmly, all the way down to her scalp. It felt really good and Essie allowed herself to relax. After her hair was coated well, she put a shower cap on and they waited 20 minutes.

"What do you think of Liam?" Essie asked her sister.

"Are you kidding? He's the dream guy – he's certainly handsome, he's kind and genuine and helpful, and he sings. You've got the perfect package."

"Yeah," Essie sighed.

"Why don't you seem happy about that?" Abigail asked. "No spark?"

"No, believe me there is definitely a spark. But I think it might be one-sided, you know. I find him amazingly attractive on every level and I'm pretty sure he's not quite as serious about me."

"Ess, he gushed about you this morning and said he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you."

"He lied," Essie said mournfully, not bothering to explain any further to her sister.

They waited the few more minutes for the hair product to finish its work. Then Essie said, "I think I'll take a shower. I might have to shampoo more than once to get this stench out of my hair. Can you bring me some clothes from my room, please?"

"Sure thing, sis."

"Hey, Abigail, thanks so much for helping with this," she said, pointing to her hair. "And for listening."

Essie stripped quickly and jumped into the steaming shower. She scrubbed her hair with three rounds of shampoo before she was satisfied that the smell was gone. Then she put conditioner on it and let it set while she washed her body. When everything was finally rinsed, she toweled off and slid the shower door open.

Strange, she didn't see her clothes yet. She wiped the steam off the mirror and then wrapped the towel around her. She sighed happily to see that her natural hair color was restored; what had looked like a boring brown yesterday now looked more like a luxuriant mahogany. She grabbed a brush and worked through the long strands and then she heard a knock on the bathroom door.

She flung it open, saying, "It took you long enough!" But it wasn't Abigail standing on the other side. It was Liam standing there, shocked to see Essie in just a towel.

"I...um...here are my clothes for you, no my sister's clothes, NO! These are the clothes my sister gave me-"

Essie interrupted, giggling at his awkwardness. "They're my clothes that my sister gave you to give to me."

"Huh, yeah," he said, still standing there, staring. But he wasn't staring at Essie's towel or trying to get a glimpse underneath it. He seemed to be enchanted by her hair.

"I should get dressed, Liam."

"Okay," he said, still standing there.

"I'm closing the door now...."

That snapped him out of his stupor. "Oh, right, sure." And he walked away.

Essie got dressed and found Liam sitting in front of the fire. She sat down across from him and said, "Thanks."

"For what?"

"You're being nice to me today. I know you're just pretending and I certainly know I don't deserve it, but it's nice. For a change."

"I'm sorry, Essie. All those things I said last night were much too cruel. I don't usually talk like that to anyone. I don't know what came over me."

"What came over you, Liam, was that you were kidnapped by a crazy woman. God, I'm so, so sorry for dragging you into all this. I know I seem like a lunatic, but I'm actually pretty grounded...except when I'm with my family." She rolled her eyes.

"You know," Liam said. "I'm surprised, but I'm actually enjoying myself, especially now that I know I'm not going to be part of some drunken orgy or Satanic ritual."

Essie giggled. "Just wait til tonight when we dance around the tree in our underwear and howl at the moon."

"That wouldn't surprise me," Liam said with a straight face, but when Essie chucked a pillow at him, his face transformed with the biggest grin that Essie had seen yet.

It tickled her heart to see him happy. She had never felt this way about anyone in her life, but now, in only a day, she knew there was something special about Liam. She wanted him to be happy, of course, but she knew that she had made the most ridiculous mistake in the history of massive screw-ups. She knew that smile would never really be directed towards her.

Mr. and Mrs. Richards joined them by the fire with a tray of hot cocoa for everyone. Grandma came in a few minutes later with her flask of who-knows-what. She grabbed a mug, downed half of the cocoa without blinking and then filled the mug to the top with the liquor of choice.

"Mother, don't you think that's a little too much brandy?" Mrs. Richards asked.

"Nonsense, there's no such thing as too much brandy. I'm 87 and I don't know how much time i have left, so I might as well enjoy it, right? Besides, I'm your mother – you're not allowed to tell me what to do."

"I like her," Liam said to Essie, smirking.

"I like you, too, Hottie McHottie Pants," Grandma told Liam with a wink.

Liam's face turned red with laughter, but  Essie shouted, "Grandma! You can't say that!"

"I can say anything I damn well please. I'm 87, for heaven's sake, and I didn't get to this age by saying polite things! Besides, you and Mr. HotPants gave us quite a show under the mistletoe earlier; I was wondering how long it would be before one of you-"

"Grandma!" Everyone yelled.

She gave them a dirty look and took a gulp of her hot cocoa.

They had a pleasant visit around the fire, and Essie learned a few things about Liam as her parents probed into his life. He was a Junior Architect, but he was on track to become a full partner within a few years. He worked for a company called Rivas & Kirkland, a company with which Mr. Richards was quite familiar. They spoke at length about various projects.

Mr. Richards was duly impressed. Then he turned to Essie, "See, baby girl, it's not that hard to get into a successful career if you just put your mind to it."

"With all due respect, sir, it was actually a lot of hard work," Liam interjected.

"Oh, I know, but Essie isn't even trying. She didn't go to college and she wants to become an artist." Essie's father said that last word with biting sarcasm.

"Dad," Essie complained. "I did take two years of classes in Fine Arts."

"Fine Arts," he scoffed. "That's an expensive way to say, Do you want fries with that?"

Everyone laughed, including Liam.

Essie's nostrils flared and her face turned red from anger and embarrassment. As the conversation continued, she wandered off to her bedroom. She pulled out a small portfolio of paintings that she had brought along, hoping to show her family how her skills were developing. She leafed through them for a while before breaking down in tears and crying herself to sleep.

A while later, she felt the bed dip down. She rolled over to find Liam sitting there.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey."

"Having a rough day, huh?" He asked.

"Try a rough life," she said. She got up and left Liam alone once again. She couldn't stand being in the same room with him because he looked and smelled so good, and he was too kind, in spite of everything she'd done to him.

After she left, Liam sat, rifling through her paintings, completely hypnotized. They were exquisite. He had never seen such detail and the use of light in her paintings was magical.

Soon it was dinner time and Essie grudgingly took her seat at the table, next to Liam.

Grandma sat on the other side of Liam, uncomfortably close. During all of dinner, she was shamelessly flirting like a teenage girl. No one had the heart to stop her, since she was 87 years old, after all, and who knows how much time she had left.

After dinner, the Richards family gathered around the tree with desserts and hot chocolate...and more alcohol for Grandma. She sure was a tough old bird.

"Liam, we would be honored if you would read The Night Before Christmas. It's a Richards family tradition."

"Of course you would," Essie muttered under her breath.

Her mother just gave her a dirty look.

After the story, Essie's mom laid out some decorated cookies and milk and carefully printed a note that said, To Santa.

"Really, Mom?" Essie asked. "We haven't believed in Santa for years! We're not children anymore."

"It's tradition, Essie."

"Well, you seem to be okay screwing with all of our other traditions!" She snapped.

"Esther Marie!" Her mother said in a warning tone.

When Essie didn't fight back, Mrs. Richards handed a small notepad to her and Liam with the instructions, "Now, go and write your lists for Santa."

Essie rolled her eyes, but she knew better than to protest anymore. She followed Liam to sit back down by the fireplace.

She began scrawling words onto the notepad. She noticed that Liam was thinking and writing things carefully.

"All right," she said. "What are you writing, Mr. Rich and Handsome? Asking Santa for a Jaguar?"

"No!" He scoffed. "I'm not as shallow and self-centered as you seem to think I am."

With that, Essie grabbed the notepad out of his hands and read out loud, "I just want to be happy." She looked confused and then asked, "Are you unhappy, Liam? You have a great job, you're going to get married, I'm sure you have a lot of friends, including the prick with the naughty mouth at the restaurant."

"Harry?" He laughed. "He's harmles, but we're not very close. Just one of my chums from England."

"And besides, I'm sure your parents are very proud of you."

"My parents are dead."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," she whispered. "How long have they been gone?"

"They died when I was thirteen, so it's been as many years since I came to the US to live with my Nana."

"Well," she replied, "I'm sure your Nana is very proud of you."

"Yes," he said wistfully.

"Then why aren't you happy?" Essie asked. "You're getting married, aren't you? It must make you happy to have found The One."

Liam sat awkwardly and played with his hands, not wanting to answer.

"You don't love her," Essie simply stated.

"It's not that," he began. "It's just...it's more of a marriage of convenience, I guess."

"Well, that's no fun at all," Essie pouted. "You deserve to be with someone who makes you smile every time she walks in the room. You deserve to have someone love you so completely who adores you and wants to do everything with you, but gives you space to hang out with your weird friends, too."

"Hey," he said playfully.

"My point is that forever is a very long time. A marriage of convenience will only weigh you down. You want someone who will lift you up. You deserve to be happy. Everyone does," Essie told him.

"I can see that's your motto – you forced me to come here and pretend to be the perfect boyfriend for your family, but is that what will really make you happy? To be perfect in their eyes?"

"No," Essie said, bowing her head down. "No, I don't want to be their version of perfect. I want to be myself and have them accept me for who I am, not who they want me to be."

"I know," he said, caressing Essie's hand.

After a while of sitting in comforting, yet confusing silence, Essie asked, "Is your Nana still alive?"

"Yes, she's a spirited old lady, but who knows, she's probably had a heart attack now, knowing I've gone missing."

"Oh, no, that's awful. I don't want to be responsible for an old lady's heart attack," Essie said, realizing how scary it must be for the people who loved Liam, that he had suddenly gone missing.

"Well, it's good to know you're willing to draw the line somewhere." He pulled his notepad back from Essie's hands and pretended to write something while he said it out loud. "Let me write this down so I have it straight when I give my statement to the police - willing to kidnap defenseless, dashingly handsome men, but will stop at murder."

"Shut up, you goof!" Essie laughed, whacking him with a decorative pillow.

They both left their letters to Santa in the tree and then settled in for a long winter's nap.