Page 9 of Cozy Little Christmas

“It doesn’t matter anyway. He’s only here for the holidays while he helps clear out Stanley’s house. I probably won’t even see him again.”

Her sister’s shock clearly crackled through the airwaves. “He’s living on your street? Seriously? That’s, what, four houses away?”

“It doesn’t matter if it’s four houses or four hundred miles. Wes hasn’t been important in my life in years.”

Holly was quiet. When she spoke her voice was soft with compassion. “Except we both know Wes Kenner is the reason you hardly date anybody for more than a few months. You always break things off before anybody else has the chance to hurt you like he did.”

Again, she couldn’t manage to come up with any kind of convincing argument. At times she found having an identical twin who could almost read her thoughts highly inconvenient.

“I’ve got to go, Hol. I’m in the elementary school parking lot and my session is starting soon. I’ll be seeing our Lydia shortly. Any message you need me to pass on?”

She adored working with elementary students with speech delays or neurodiversity like Lydia. Her niece might have been born with an extra chromosome but that only made her more fabulous. In her six short years on the planet, Lydia had influenced more people for good than most others did throughout their entire lifetimes.

“No. Just that I love her, but she knows that. I hope she hasn’t pulled out her ponytail. That’s her new thing. We spend fifteen minutes fixing her hair in the morning and she pulls it out by lunchtime.”

“If I can manage it discreetly, I’ll figure out a way to fix it for her.”

“Thanks for always having our backs.”

“You know it.”

She said goodbye to her sister and headed to the back of her vehicle to unload all the supplies she would need for the next hour, already humming one of the songs they would perform.

She was pushing her cart inside when an adorable girl with long brown braids under a bright pink beanie ran up to her from behind.

“Hi, Miss Goodwin. Do you need some help?”

“Hi, Riley.” She smiled brightly at Morgan Collins’s daughter. “Thanks for offering. Would you mind carrying my tote bag for me?”

Riley, a smart and friendly third-grader, cheerfully took it from her. “I have to drop my mom’s phone off at the school library first. She forgot it in the car so I went and got it for her. Is that okay?”

Hannah glanced at the nearest wall clock and saw she still had fifteen minutes before her class started. She had been hoping for a chance to catch up with Morgan. This would provide the perfect opportunity.

After pushing her cart of instruments into the small room where she held her therapy sessions, Hannah made her way to the school library. The entire school had been rebuilt since she went here and the library in particular was sunny and bright and welcoming.

A few children browsed shelves before school or sat in small groups. Morgan, she saw, sat behind a counter talking with her daughter. Hannah immediately took in the dark circles under her eyes, the tightness of her skin. She couldn’t imagine the level of stress Morgan must be enduring.

“Hey,” Hannah said softly.

Morgan gave her a tentative smile. “Hi there. Riley said she bumped into you outside.”

“I helped carry her tote bag,” the young girl said.

“That’s wonderful, darling. Thank you. You had better hurry to class now. Don’t you have some math papers to turn in before school starts?”

Riley looked as if she didn’t want to leave her mother’s side but she finally sighed, gave Morgan a hug and hurried toward the door, stopping on her way to talk to a couple of other girls her age before all three of them walked together out of the library.

“She and Carter have both been really clingy ever since I found out I was sick,” Morgan said. “I wish they didn’t have to worry about me.”

“They love you. Of course they’re going to worry.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t call you back yesterday. I did get your messages but I . . . I needed a little time to process everything.”

“That’s what you said in your text. If you still need more time, I can come back after my session.”

Morgan shook her head. “A decade won’t be enough time to process. The oncologist confirmed the preliminary diagnosis. I have myelofibrosis.”

Since Morgan’s initial diagnosis, Hannah had done a bit of research on the rare blood cancer, which apparently replaced healthy bone marrow with scar tissue.