Page 48 of Not Another Christmas Movie

“I’m so sorry for your loss, Felix,” Annie said instead. She hated to see this adorable old man sad or in mourning; he was Santa for goodness’ sake. “I’m sure she was a wonderful woman.” Felix gave Annie a small smile and turned back to his cooking duties. “Do you need any help with dinner?” Annie asked, hoping to reset the mood and also to get this part of the evening over and done with already. She would take their bland food over listening to these sappy, sad stories any day.

“I’ll assist Felix,” Chris assured her. “Please make yourself at home in the meantime.” Chris smiled at her warmly, and she returned a nod. Annie walked closer to the Christmas tree in the living room, admiring the many handmade ornaments decorating it.

“My mom made this,” Holly’s small voice said as she stood next to Annie. Her hand cupped a handmade tree that had been constructed with cinnamon sticks.

“Very cool. And it smells good,” Annie told her, hoping this wasn’t going to be the moment she got another big death reveal story, but already sensing that’s exactly what was about to happen.

“Want to hear a joke?” Holly asked in a small voice.

“I really do,” Annie told her. Huh, maybe they could share jokes until dinner was over.

“What is a Christmas tree’s favorite candy?” Holly asked, still looking straight at the tree.

“What?” Annie asked, slightly afraid of the answer given by Holly’s somber tone.

“Orna-mints,” Holly finished.

“That’s a good one—” Annie began, but Holly cut her off.

“My mom taught me that,” Holly said.

“It’s very solid—” Annie said.

“Why did she have to die?” Holly’s voice cracked. Oh, man, Mamma Mia, here we go again, Annie groaned internally, her muscles immediately tensing up.

“Oh, Holly, I’m sorry. Do you, um, have any other jokes?” Annie attempted as Holly continued to cry. Ugh, she didn’t want to be here for this, but maybe Nick had been right, maybe the only way out was through. If they got it all out now, it’d be like ripping off a figurative Band-Aid in one quick swoop.

“Why couldn’t she have chewed through that cursed chestnut?” Holly wailed. Her hands questioned the ceiling fan for an answer that would never come.

“I’m sorry, what? What do you mean?” Annie asked in a confused, hushed voice. “Did you say chestnut?” Holly let out another choked sob.

“Yes,” Holly said after a moment. “We were enjoying some warm chestnuts, roasting on our open fire, and she took a large one … it was too hot, too hot for her to handle, Annie! She choked on it. I can still see the flames,” Holly whimpered, staring at the empty fireplace in the corner.

“Oh, Holly. That must have been so hard on you,” Annie said.

“Could I have a hug?” Holly asked, surprising Annie into action, bringing her body to embrace Holly’s small frame.

“You know, I actually lost someone at Christmastime too,” Annie shared, surprising herself. She never talked about this. Holly looked up at her, her eyes desperately searching.

“How do you keep your spirits up every year?” Holly asked. Annie had to swallow down the urge to cry. The truth was, her Christmas spirit died when her grandfather had, and she had never tried to revive it.

“It’s hard, isn’t it? Annie returned. “What do you do?” Annie turned the question around. Holly gave the question some consideration before answering.

“I try to remember the good holiday memories. And then I try to keep making more of them because I know that would make my mom happiest,” Holly said sagely. It was so simple and her words so pure, they pierced right through Annie’s heart. Her grandfather would hate how she had been celebrating his favorite holiday.

“Hey, you two, are you ready to get washed up for supper?” Chris’s voice rang out from the kitchen. Annie let Holly release her and turned to catch her eye.

“Do you want another minute?” Annie asked her. Holly shook her head no.

“I’m starving,” Holly giggled, switched back to her precocious child self, and Annie let out a big breath, grateful they could now eat and fill their mouths with something other than sadness.

“Me too,” Annie winked at her, and Holly offered her hand.

The dinner portion of the evening was as strange as Annie could have predicted. The food had been artfully plated, each meatball garnished with a sprinkle of parmesan cheese, and the spaghetti had been covered generously in bright marinara sauce. There was also a basket of garlic bread and a pitcher of hot chocolate. The weirdest thing, though, is that Annie couldn’t recall eating anything. One moment the food was there, looking as appetizing as a chain Italian restaurant’s attempt at authentic cuisine straight from Italy, and the next the plates were empty with only the smallest impression that the food had once been there. Her clothing was also devoid of marinara stains, which was suspicious given her usual proclivity to make a mess.

Felix and Chris were dramatically dabbing their mouths with cloth napkins, and Holly was letting out a contented sigh.

“Well, I can’t imagine eating another bite!” Chris beamed at Felix.