Page 96 of The Christmas Yes List

I’m here anyway.

“Um . . . yeah,” I say, assessing the options around us. My fingers tingle. I’m not only pretty sure but 100 percent sure I will be sore tomorrow. My calves are already cramping; it’s like I can feel the muscles shrinking in the lack of movement here in the cold by the minute.

“Or we could . . . take a walk,” he suggests.

There’s a hopefulness in his tone, and I jump at it.

“Yeah,” I say. “I’ll show you around. You can see the property.”

His face brightens. He likes the plan. But then he glances at my coat. “You going to be warm enough?”

I smile at his thoughtful concern. “Yeah.”

“Well.” He pauses. “If you get cold . . .” He puts out the crook of his arm in invitation.

I hesitate.

“Yes, that would be handy,” I say. And I’m just slipping my arm through and experiencing a little thrill as I shut the door for what feels like the millionth time today on my fears and inhibitions, when I hear a rather distinct sound of a bear charging toward me, and a voice calls my name in a shrill, singsong tone.

“Oh Chloeeee!” Genie says, and I hear the urgency behind her words.

I pause and turn. Then squint. Then frown.

Her body language is a transparent match to her tone. Genie’s forging through the snow—barefoot—while holding up her dress. She’s out of breath by the time she reaches us.

We wait like deer in headlights for her to speak, then at last she says, an in overly friendly way, “Where are you going?” When it becomes apparent that the image of her freezing her feet off to walk all the way down here and ask where we’re going doesn’t quite feel sane, she adds, “We’re about to have dinner.”

James looks at his watch. “It’s four thirty.” He glances at me. “Do you all eat at four thirty?”

“The Hollis family is particularly punctual,” Genie jumps in. “And we have tiny children here. And old people. So. Early is best.” She starts nodding and shoots me a look, waving me in.

I know what she’s doing. And if she’s not careful, the whole world will know what she’s doing.

Subtly, while looking her straight in the eye to hopefully share the telepathic message I want to communicate, I shake my head with a smile. “We’ve got plenty of time. Dinner is at six.”

“Not anymore,” Genie says swiftly.

“And people don’t make a big deal about mealtimes anyway.”

“I heard your nana was switching it all up this year. A very utilitarian theme for the holidays.”

“Given that the holidays are about enjoying time together, not sticking to a strict schedule—”

“Says whoever doesn’t sit down is out of the will.”

I sigh. Genie either isn’t getting the message or is stubbornly choosing not to get the message, but neither is going to work.

Fine.

New tactic.

“Please tell Nana I’m very, very sorry about not being able to eat at four thirty in the afternoon, and I understand I will not be in the will.”

Genie’s eyes narrow. “Are you sure?” she says. Now it’s her time to try to pass me telepathic messages. “That’d be a real. Shame. Might. Regret. It.”

I hold firm to James’s coat.

“I’m sure,” I say.