June Bug wriggles in Rose’s ample bosom, and she plucks her out to reveal her teeny-tiny tail twirling in circles.
“Looks like someone is happy to see you,” she says, holding her out to greet me.
“Hi, girl,” I coo, letting the pup kiss my cheek. “How did she do?”
“She didn’t want to sit still while I watched my shows, so I stuffed her in my shirt.” She pats her boobs. “These boulders could secure a rottweiler in place.”
“That’s not weird at all,” I say in a tone that lets her know it definitely is.
“It worked, didn’t it?”
“Aunt Rose,” Noah shouts as he and Emily bound into the room, cheese in hand, to give their great-aunt a hug.
“Hey, kiddos.” She ruffles their hair and gives them a squeeze. “Who’s ready to make gingerbread houses?”
They screech a chorus of “meeee.”
“And we’re going to do that very soon,” I say. “How about you two go play for a few minutes while I order the pizzas and get set up?”
“Will you play with us, Aunt Rose?” Emily asks, smiling up at Rose with her cherubic cheeks. “We can play princesses.”
“Yeah!” Noah pumps his small fist in the air. “I want to be Ariel this time.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Rose purses her lips, pretending to consider their offer as she always does. It’s part of their game. “I’m feeling a bit tired this afternoon.”
“Pleeeeeeease,” they beg.
“I’m afraid I’m just too tired.” Rose gets a mischievous glint in her eyes and crouches down, hooking her fingers into claws. She lowers her voice to a creaky rasp. “But lucky for you, Rosanna the sea witch wishes to feed on the souls of young princesses.”
No matter how many times I’ve witnessed this exchange, it still makes me laugh every time. The kids shriek with delight and June Bug wags her tail furiously.
“Come, my faithful sea urchin companion,” my sister says, tucking the dog back into her bra. “We must feast. Princesses, please push my boat to the playroom.”
“Don’t eattoomany souls. We’ll be having pizza soon.” I chuckle as Rose winks and the kids push her rolling chair out of the room.
I take my bag of goodies into the kitchen and place them on the island along with my purse. I dig in my bag for my phone and pull it out to order dinner. But before I do, I tap out a quick text to Lindsey:
Can’t wait to hear about your date!
13
LINDSEY
“The Curious Heart.”Oliver reads the name on the sign above the door aloud as we step inside that evening, the cozy store restoring some warmth to my cheeks. It’s getting colder, and every day the ache in my muscles spreads a little wider, and I feel like I’m playing pain Russian roulette. Will this be the day my fibromyalgia rears its ugly head again, condemning me to bed for days on end and making it damn near impossible to think through the brain fog?
“I love this place,” I say, pushing the thoughts from my mind as we make the next stop of our extended tour of Loving.
The Curious Heart is decorated for the holidays, but not in the traditional sense. The Christmas tree in the corner is made entirely from books stacked at least six feet high. Sparkly purple garland is strung from the ceiling with quirky ornaments dangling from it. I spot a ceramic disc painted to look like a pepperoni pizza and another designed to look like van Gogh’sThe Starry Night.
“Oh wow.” Oliver glances around the cozy space, packed to the gills with every kind of gift you can imagine and plenty you can’t. “This place is incredible.”
“It’s chaotic in the best way.” There’s handcrafted jewelry and paintings done by local artists, and a section filled with rare toys. In the middle are racks of vintage clothing and a few costumes.
“Welcome in,” the busy clerk greets us with a wave from the checkout counter.
“Hi,” I call out, maneuvering around pieces of vividly painted furniture to get to an especially garish nutcracker costume. I pluck it off the rack and hold it up so Oliver can see. “I think I just found the perfect outfit for you.”
He raises his brows and lifts the attached plastic package. “It even comes with a mustache.”
