Page 56 of Not Another Christmas Movie

Annie couldn’t even remember why she brushed off the offer. She probably wanted to hang out with Marsha and whatever guy she was crushing on at the time. She asked her grandfather if they could put it off a few hours and promised they could watch movies once he returned from his Christmas morning plans.

“Annie,” Nick said, breaking through her sobs.

“I should have spent Christmas Eve at home,” Annie blurted to Nick. Her eyes continued to empty tears into her palms. Nick didn’t say anything, but he watched her, ready to listen to any emotions she felt inclined to share until she allowed them to slip out, trusting they’d find a gentle place to land. “I didn’t know,” Annie sobbed as Nick put an arm around her and she cried into his chest.

On the morning of the twenty-fifth, her grandfather had passed out cookies, sung a few carols, and apparently, had even pretended to be Santa for a woman with dementia who asked if she could share her Christmas wish. Annie had learned that afterward.

When he was getting ready to drive back home, he sat down in his car and took a moment to ready himself. Before he could start the car, he had closed his eyes. On his favorite holiday, Christmas Day, her grandfather experienced a sudden cardiac arrest due to an arrhythmia and died instantly.

Waking up later on Christmas morning, sixteen-year-old Annie had gone straight to her grandfather’s room. When he wasn’t there, she assumed he must be waiting by the tree for the family to get up and get to celebrating. It was the lack of Christmas music that first gave her the sensation that something was off, the absence of brewed coffee and breakfast aromas next. Walking into the kitchen, her mother and father were sitting red-eyed at the table and her sister, Elise, was reaching for another tissue to cry into. Annie knew before anyone had to tell her. And in that moment, she knew she’d never be the same.

Annie continued crying on Nick’s chest, but she opened an eye and happened to catch that rogue dog in the green bandana running toward them, or more specifically, toward the basket. Annie sat up, alerting Nick. The dog raced by in a blur, stopping to take the basket in its teeth before running away.

Nick and Annie paused before bursting into laughter. When they made eye contact, it only sparked another round.

“The Dougie look-alike,” Nick smiled.

“I still can’t believe you remembered Dougie … and it’s very sweet you have memories of my grandparents,” Annie said, her eyes filling with fresh tears. “It means a lot to me,” Annie admitted, allowing the honesty to pour out of her now.

The loss of her grandparents had meant no more color and light, no more treats just for her. Each day since, but especially in December, she felt the vacancy their love had once filled. She loved her parents and her sister, obviously, but she struggled with their gazes of expectation of how she should be living her life. Each time her mother or father lobbed a loaded question about when she’d get serious and commit to “a real job” and a “real partner,” it cut into her spirit. Those wounds were always the hardest to hide during the holiday season so, honestly, when they had decided to go away for Christmas, it was an easier way to pass the time of year she dreaded most.

“Does it hurt to talk about them?” Nick asked softly.

Annie thought about that. “I try to avoid thinking about it because it makes me sad, but then the idea of not thinking about them is also sad. Honestly, I don’t know how to not be sad, and it’s become so routine now that I don’t even fight it,” Annie said.

“Your grandfather really loved Christmas,” Nick said.

“That’s the understatement of the century,” Annie said wryly.

“Why do you think it meant so much to him?” Nick asked.

“Hmm, well, for starters, he met my grandmother in mid-December. At a town Christmas candle walk event,” Annie said, a fond smile fighting to make its way to her face.

“Watch out, Simsbury Celebrates, that sounds fun,” Nick said.

“They also got married the next year, right around the holidays, they even had a Christmas-themed wedding, can you imagine? That’s some made-for-TV movie magic right there,” Annie said. “But Christmas was woven into their relationship from its inception, so it was, like, intertwined in its existence and their history. My grandfather, definitely the more sentimental of the two, reveled in all the festivities a little more every year, so by the time I came along, it had become a way of life for the entire family … but when we lost him, we all lost the celebration too. No one was up to carrying it on, not without him.”

Nick nodded before meeting Annie’s gaze and speaking again, “You’re always going to miss him, Annie, but I think it’s okay to celebrate Christmas again. Your grandfather would want you to be happy, especially during this time of year. You don’t necessarily have to do all the things he did in order to enjoy the season, but maybe allowing a little Christmas magic into your life is a way to honor his spirit and keep the good memories close. I think he’d want you to find the parts you love and have fun making new moments,” Nick said.

Annie’s heart squeezed until he mentioned, “making new moments” and she had to laugh. She knew he was right, though, and for the first time, the idea of finding joy in a time of year that had previously been riddled with her grief didn’t feel impossible. But it was still a bit complicated.

“It’s hard to imagine celebrating a ‘real’ Christmas until we’ve escaped this place,” Annie started and Nick gave a small nod of agreement. “Nick, why haven’t you almost kissed Bailey yet?” Annie asked him, the words falling out of her mouth before she could second-guess them.

Nick broke their eye contact, wringing his hands together as if he were looking for the response in his fingers. When he met Annie’s eyes again, the sound of a loud town bell rang and a small group of kids appeared to drop down to the street, declaring it was “the dress rehearsal bell” sounding. When they saw Annie and Nick, they gathered around them in an excited bunch, eager to escort their favorite costumer and set designer back to the school.

“Saved by the bell,” Annie blurted as it continued to ring out, and Nick offered her a small half smile as two kids took his hands, skipping beside him. “Well, we can’t let them win,” Annie said, eyeing the two girls nearest to her and offering her open palms. “Let’s go.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

“Community, making amends, hospitality, metaphoric expansion, and Christmas magic,” Perry preached passionately. “These are only a few of the defining principles that have led us here today to share this very special story with this beloved town,” Perry paused dramatically and scanned the room with a meaningful, distant stare before locking eyes with Grant. Bailey and Chris were nodding enthusiastically, full of emotion. “Let’s do this final dress rehearsal for us; tomorrow will be a true gift for all of Simsbury.”

“I think you’ve created a full-fledged Christmas lover.” Annie smiled at Grant once Chris invited the kids closer to the piano for warm-ups. Annie watched Grant’s cheeks redden as he busied himself with a box of paper tickets.

“I don’t know about that,” Grant said, unable to hide the smile.

“Dare I say … presidential even?” Annie tried, knowing this Grant wouldn’t recall their President’s Day antics, but still unable to resist. Grant smiled, his head slightly cocked as if Annie had said something familiar, but his eyes returned to Perry before looking back to the tickets. “It looks good on you,” Annie told him, and Grant looked back up.

“The show has come to mean a lot to me,” Grant told her as he, again, let his gaze return to Perry.