Page 55 of The Best Christmas Choir Ever

She’d only just finished clearing out the hallway when the doorbell rang. Julian was early. She hurried to answer the door.

Julian stood there, wrapped in his coat and a scarf and a pair of hot-pink knitted mittens.

She raised an eyebrow.

“A present from the resident knitting club,” he said, holding his hands up.

Charlie swung the door open farther. “You didn’t dip out early, did you?”

“I was all caught up. No new emails in my inbox.” Julian shrugged. “Figured I’d swing by now.”

She stepped aside, letting him in. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I’ve put in a lot of extra hours over the years. Diane was happy to let me sneak out.”

“As long as I didn’t pull you away from anything important.”

“Just more complaints about the gingerbread contest being fixed.”

“I really do think the nurses were slighted,” Charlie said, chuckling as Julian rolled his eyes. “Come on, they made a gingerbread hospital!”

“They make one every year,” he said, playfully exasperated. “The admin team is just more creative.”

“I think I’m Team Harriet and Warren on this one. There clearly needs to be an internal investigation.”

Julian tutted. “I come all the way over here to help you and get nothing but accusations.” He pretended to leave.

Charlie grabbed him by the front of the coat and hauled him back inside, closing the door to the chill. “I’m kidding. But you can’t deny those gingerbread men with the little icing casts were adorable.”

“They took second place again. That’s almost a win.”

“Don’t say the word almost near Harriet. Any word from the Arts Council?”

“Nothing.” Julian sighed. “But I’m trying not to check my email every two minutes. Moving furniture might actually be a nice distraction.”

“I’m sure they’ll reach out soon,” Charlie said. Though as the days passed, she’d started to worry that maybe Glendale hadn’t made the cut. She kept the choir rehearsing on the off chance they did, but the reality was she had no idea what kind of amateur competition Elm Springs might stir up.

“Fingers crossed,” Julian said. He shed his coat and scarf and hung them on the coatrack like he’d done it a thousand times before.

For a beat, Charlie realized he had. Julian had stood in this hall, had eaten at Gram’s table and had sat in her living room with Charlie cuddled next to him on the couch. Looking at him now, she was suddenly twenty-one again, Tom was alive and…nothing. Don’t drift away with those thoughts. Not now. She cleared her throat. “I really appreciate this.”

“Of course. I’m happy to help.” They looked at each other for a long beat, then Julian glanced toward the basement door. “Put me to work?”

“Do you want a drink first? Gram has coffee, and there’s beer in the fridge.”

“Work first,” he decided. “Then I’ll take the beer you promised me as payment.”

Charlie led him to the basement, pausing for a beat. “Before we go down, just remember, you were warned.”

Julian snorted as they descended the stairs. By the time they got to the bottom, all he could do was mutter, “Wooooow.”

“Told you,” Charlie said, feeling slightly vindicated.

“I should have taken that warning seriously,” Julian said. “Maybe asked for more than pizza.”

“What could be better than pizza?”

He caught her eye, and for the next hour, Charlie tried not to think about what his answer might have been as they hauled furniture out of the basement. When they were done, Julian heaved and collapsed on the dusty old couch that had been relocated to the porch. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead.