Chapter One

Samantha West sighed and leaned back in her office chair, tossing her pen on the desk. Extending her long, lean legs out in front of her, she stretched her arms above her head, releasing the hours of tension built up from the day.

The clock on the wall ticked softly, the only noise audible in her office, as she absentmindedly glanced around the room. It was a large office, and she kept it reasonably organized, save for her desk. Several papers sat in a pile to her left, each with varying deadlines and urgencies, some marked to death by red ink. A ceramic mug sat at the head of the mound, half-full of red pens, pencils, Sharpies, highlighters, and a handful of paper clips and thumbtacks. Post-Its were scattered all over, and framed pictures cluttered the little space left on the desktop. Samantha made a mental note to organize and clean up the desk before the holidays, then snorted under her breath. She made that resolution every year, and never did it.

The rest of the office was decorated in her own style, displaying her personality almost boldly: photographs added splashes of color and life to the otherwise pristine white walls, depicting friends and family, including her twin brother, and best friend, James. Movie and music posters hung mounted in frames, and her eyes settled on her favorite shot of her favorite band Bon Jovi. She smiled: Jon, Richie, David, and Tico could make any day better.

Samantha glanced at her watch: a little past 9 PM. This was the fourth day in a row she’d stayed late at the office. She sighed: the holiday season was always very busy for Dream, the magazine of which she was executive editor.

Outside the frosted glass windowpanes, Sam could see flurries of wispy white snow swirling down from the inky sky, and she smiled. Nothing could beat Christmastime in New York City, she thought, and she suddenly found herself looking forward to the walk home.

The sound of soft footsteps caught her attention, and she turned to find her Features columnist poking his head into her office door.

“Sam?”

“Hey, Charlie, what’s up?” Samantha smiled at him. Charlie had been a Godsend to her by putting in long hours lately, and she was very grateful.

“I finished the piece on ‘This Year’s Holiday Soundtrack’, and I’m nearly done with ‘Finding the Right Gift’ – did you want me to finish them up real quick and give them to you now, or wait until tomorrow?”

Sam shook her head. “Tomorrow’s fine, Charlie, you’ve done more than enough for today. Go home and get some sleep, and we’ll see what we have in the morning.”

Charlie grinned. “Thanks, boss. Are you heading home too? It’s awfully late.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, I just need to finish the final edit on this article, and I’m done. Have you noticed it’s snowing?” she gestured toward the window. “I just love when it snows this time of year – makes the lights look so much brighter.”

Charlie nodded. “Amber loves it too. She always insists on making a snowman every time the snow comes down. I think we’ve made fifteen of them so far, at least!”

Sam laughed. Charlie’s wife was born and raised in Southern California, and hadn’t seen a flake of snow in her entire life until she came to Manhattan to be with Charlie. She was, if possible, even more enchanted by the winter wonderland the city became at Christmas than Sam, a native New Yorker, was.

“Well, I’ll see you in the morning then,” Charlie started to back out of the office. “And don’t stay too late now, that’s an order,” he wagged his finger at Samantha, who put on a face of mock obedience.

“Sir, yes sir!”

Charlie laughed and walked away.

Samantha turned back to the article in front of her and sighed. She made a few more notes in the left margin, then capped the pen and with a flourish, threw it into the mug. She shut down the computer, and watched as the faces of Bon Jovi faded to black. Reaching down, she unlocked the bottom drawer of her desk where she kept her purse, slung it over her shoulder, grabbed her coat, and made her way stiffly to the door.

She walked down the silent walkway, past the secretaries’ and reporters’ cubicles, toward the elevator. Charlie was gone, and everyone else had left hours ago. She hated the silence of the office after hours, without the usual hustle and bustle of magazine-running life.

Samantha punched the button for the elevator and massaged her neck as she waited. She knew she shouldn’t be putting in so much extra time – even her boss, the editor-in-chief, hardly left later than 7:30 whenever he did stay late. He was always telling her not to work so hard, that she was too young to work herself to the bone. The truth of the matter was that she just couldn’t help it. She was a perfectionist.

The elevator caddy arrived and the silver doors slid open. Sam stepped inside and punched the button for the ground floor, yawning.

Outside, the city resembled that of a picture book scene: evening shoppers bustled along the snow-covered walks, wrapped in scarves and coats, carrying dozens of bright bags from Bloomingdale’s, Macy’s, and a variety of jewelry shops and toy stores. Strings of red and green bulb lights twinkled brightly overhead, entwined in the trees that lined the walks, and fully ornamented Christmas trees framed nearly every store front window.

Samantha inhaled deeply: the crisp smell of fresh snow mingled with damp pine needles was intoxicating, and filled her senses as she leisurely walked home. She decided, despite her exhaustion, to pass Rockefeller Center and see the enormous tree that had adorned the plaza since 1933. Young couples were skating blissfully in the ice rink, and Sam caught the words to “Silver Bells” drifting through the crisp, cold air.

Silver bells
Silver bells
It’s Christmas time in the city
Ring-a-ling, hear them ring
Soon it will be Christmas Day…

She smiled again, reveling in the comforting familiarity of the city, her home since childhood, at her favorite time of year.

Twenty minutes later, Samantha arrived at her West 58th street apartment building. On the eighth floor, she pushed open the door to her apartment, and was immediately greeted by two large Golden Retrievers, who welcomed her with kisses and impatient whines.

“Hi babies!!” she cooed, kneeling down to snuggle deep into their warm fur. “Didja miss me?” she smirked, hugging them both. They leapt all over her, nearly knocking her over, and she laughed, knowing they needed a bathroom break.

Without shedding her coat, she lifted the leashes off the hook by the door and hooked up the excited dogs.

“All right, babes, let’s go!” The pair bounded out the door, dragging Samantha into the elevator and then out again into the night air.

Samantha laughed and followed them down the walk, waiting for them to do their business. Tommy and Gina, named after the infamous recurring characters in Jovi songs, were Samantha’s pride and joy, and in essence, her children.

At 30 years old, she had come to the conclusion that, since she was still single, even if she met someone now and married in the next few years, she’d be too old to have children. She had never wanted to be an “older” mom; her mother had given birth to James and her when she was 22, and Samantha had always assumed she’d be married and settled with a family by then, too. But life had other plans for her, including the career she’d worked so hard for.

She had graduated from Columbia University’s Graduate School of Journalism when she was 25, a 2 ½ year endeavor that followed after four years at NYU, where she majored in Mass Communications and minored in Print Journalism. She had always loved to write: high school had her writing for the school newspaper, and she had held the position of sub editor on NYU’s newspaper for two years, while simultaneously interning for a small fashion magazine in Manhattan. After she graduated with her Master’s Degree, she sought out various jobs in the ever-competitive magazine journalism field, finally landing a position as features columnist, Charlie’s current job, for Dream.

Now, five years and several promotions later, she was executive editor of Dream, and, despite the long hours, deadline stress, and occasional nights of insomnia, she thoroughly loved it. She had a great, understanding boss, was part of a dedicated, hard-working staff, and the magazine had the respectable reputation of a general interest entertainment publication; its circulation has increased nearly tenfold in the five years she had worked for it.

Samantha didn’t know if she’d still be editor ten years down the line – moreover, she didn’t know if she wanted to still be editor then. She was the type of woman who believed in living big, and sticking with the same position on the same magazine for the rest of her life certainly didn’t appeal strongly to her. She realized she was lucky – 30, young, successful, with plenty of time to “get out” if she felt stuck. But sometimes, she wondered what it would be like to do something else - live a more exciting life, full of romance and adventure.

A playful bark shook Samantha from her thoughts. Tommy and Gina had finished their business, and were teasing a cat from behind the patio railing of another apartment. Sam tugged on their leashes and led them back home.

Once back inside the apartment, Sam locked the door and took off her coat. The apartment was warm, she noticed, once she had time to settle, and she padded around in her socks, relieving her feet from being in shoes all day. She picked up the mail and sorted through absentmindedly, rolling her eyes when it turned out to be mostly bills.

She suddenly realized she was hungry, and she made her way to the kitchen and rummaged through the refrigerator before settling on a banana muffin. She noticed the light blinking red on her answering machine, and, unwrapping the muffin, pressed the button to hear the messages.

James’ deep voice came on, greeting her with “Heeeeyyy sis, working late again?” Sam smiled. Her twin knew her too well. “Just wondering what time we’re meeting for lunch on Friday. I have a meeting at 3:00, so the earlier the better. You know how it goes. Gimme a ring. Love ya!” Sam made a mental note to call him in the morning when she got into work.

Next her best friend Alex’s voice came on the line. Alex and Sam had been roommates in their first year at NYU; they had been best friends ever since. Though Sam and James were in essence, closer, than she and Alex, the two shared a common passion for Bon Jovi, and were partners in crime when it came to them.

Alex was naturally vivacious, free-spirited and bold, the type of woman who was always found at the hottest parties and bars. But she had a soft heart, and the unnatural capacity to love deeply and purely, something Sam always wondered if she had in herself.

Now, on the machine, Alex’s voice was excited and frantic.

“Ohmigod, Sam, where the hell are you?! You will never freaking believe what just happened. Seriously. You really won’t. Ohmigod it’s amazing! Okay, but you’re seriously raining on my parade here because I’m talking to your damn machine. So I’m going to make you wait. CALL ME!”

Samantha stared at the machine. “What is it?!” she asked out loud, curious as to what was making her friend so excited.

She didn’t have long to find out – the third message imitated the first, with Alex beginning with “Okay I waited long enough, now it’s killing me. GUESS who got tickets to the hottest show in New York City on Christmas Eve? That’s right baby, yours truly, with TWO 2nd-row seats at Madison Square Garden for BON JOVI!!”

Samantha dropped her muffin.

“So yeah, um, you’re coming, and I won’t take no for an answer. You’re coming with me and we’re going to have the best freaking Christmas Eve EVER. Call me tomorrow, woman, or I’ll give away your ticket. Bye!”

Samantha continued to stare at the machine, mouth open, eyes wide, as Alex’s words fully registered. Her favorite band….with her best friend…..in amazing seats…

She hadn’t seen Bon Jovi live in almost two years, since the three shows she booked when they were in town for the Have A Nice Day tour. She’d known they’d be playing at MSG on Christmas Eve this year: it had been announced on the fan club website, of which she was a member. But seats were limited, tickets were unusually pricey, and she had decided, begrudgingly, to save the dough and spring for an extra show during the next tour. She wondered how the hell Alex had gotten tickets.

“OH MY GOD!” she finally yelled, her heart racing as she jumped up and down in place. Gina’s ears perked up from her place on the floor.

“Did you hear that, baby? I’m going to see the BOYS again!” Sam yelled excitedly at the dog, who jumped up and wagged her tail expectantly.

Resisting the urge to call her friend at 10 PM on a weeknight and demand how she had scored so big, Sam relished in the excitement by herself, marking the date on the calendar with a big red heart. Two weeks to go – she could handle that, right? It was better than buying tickets months in advance and waiting on seat-edge for the concert day to arrive.

Samantha finally forced herself to wind down, and brushed her teeth and washed her face. Twenty minutes later, she crawled into bed, and happily fell asleep thinking of Christmas Eve and how much she needed this break to wrap up a very busy and exhausting year.

Little did she know, it was a break that would turn out to be much more than an end to the year…and would in fact mark the beginning of the rest of her life.