Page 123 of The Holiday Makeover

Rory

The day before Christmas Eve, the house looked less like a renovation site and more like a holiday miracle held together by paint, a few adhesive strips (don’t tell Tate), caffeine, and a total lack of sleep. Which was good, because we had exactly twenty-eight hours until Coco’s celebration of life.

Most of the rooms still needed finishing touches. And I was trying to convince myself that “almost done” and “done” lived in the same zip code.

Spoiler alert: They did not.

But Tate kept reminding me that Coco’s real objective was never the house. It was the people inside the house.

And I had to smile as I looked around at all the people.

The place hummed with voices, Christmas music, the whir of a vacuum, and the occasional sound of someone yelling, “Can you please hand me that?” or “Please tell me this paint is dry.” The air smelled like fresh pine, furniture polish, coffee, sawdust, and the faint trace of paint fumes, which I was choosing to ignore for health and sanity reasons.

Lily and Shay, each strapped with a toddler, were vacuuming and dusting like a family cleaning crew with very judgmental supervisors attached to their bodies. Jasper and Jamison had opinions. Mostly about how they didn’t want to be strapped to their parents. They would have much rather chased after George and picked up every little speck on the floor to put in their mouths.

Dominic was outside hanging lights with a few of the guys from the neighborhood. Brave souls, considering there was still a good three feet of snow on the lawn and the extension cords looked like they were fighting for their lives. I just prayed no one got electrocuted or took a fall and had to go to the emergency room.

Veronica was decorating the entryway. She had taken it upon herself to buy all the new frames and easels of all shapes and sizes for the family pictures, transforming the space into a beautiful homage to Coco. I kept bursting into tears every time I saw it.

Which was frequently.

Eden was there too, setting up the buffet tables and decorating them beautifully with a seventies-chic vibe Coco would have adored. And she had help.

Shane Wells.

Her charming ex-boyfriend.

Apparently, she’d run into him, and he had offered to help her. Let’s just say, by the way he was gazing at her adoringly, I was pretty sure he wanted to do more than help. And let’s also say the man was attractive in that Clark Kent, super-smart kind of way. He was an architect and wore glasses that really worked for him. Given the way Eden kept blushing, it seemed they worked for her too.

Coco would have been tickled by the entire scene.

Especially the fruitcake Eden had already placed in the new refrigerator, like it was a sacred artifact.

Honestly, I thought that, like a sacred artifact, it should probably just stay in there and not be unearthed. Though Eden promised me this wasn’t your average fruitcake.

And speaking of the kitchen, Darian was still in town, finishing the last details on the sintered stone countertops. Poor guy was going to drive back to California tomorrow so he could be with his own family for Christmas.

And then there was Tate.

He was in the living room doing his thing.

A thing he had forbidden me from seeing until it was completed.

Apparently, he loved seeing my face the moment one of my visions came to life.

Who was I to deny him my look of wonder?

So I sat on the stairs, hand sewing the final embellishments onto the parlor curtains, watching the chaos unfold around me and feeling this overwhelming sense of love.

Not just love for Tate.

But love for the people in my life.

The people Coco had brought into my life. First by taking me into her home when I needed one. Then by giving me roots. And now, somehow, by filling this old house with people who showed up with vacuums, toddlers, power tools, buffet tables, and very blingy jewelry.

And I wasn’t just talking about Veronica.

I looked down at the ring on my finger. The more I looked at it, the more I loved it. The more it felt like me in some strange way. And the ring meant more to me because Tate had told me he had shown it to Coco and she had approved of it. That made it even more special. Even though my poor finger was getting a workout.