Page 4
Phoebe shoved these thoughts away, downed the rest of her wine, and turned on a cooking show. Maybe she’d spend the holidays teaching herself to make soufflé.
Five minutes later, her hand found her phone again. She opened Instagram without conscious thought. She should probably delete the app—clearly, she had a problem.
And then she saw it: an ad for something called Live Bravely. It was a home-swapping service.
Ready for your next getaway? the ad read.
How? Phoebe wondered, not for the first time, if her phone was spying on her. And of course, it was. I spend a few minutes googling last minute getaways, and then Instagram shows me this ad?
Creepy… but helpful. Phoebe downloaded the app immediately.
In big, bold letters, it announced, SWAP HOMES FOR THE VACATION OF YOUR DREAMS. LIVE LARGE WHILE SAVING MONEY. FIND YOUR BRAVE TODAY!
She swiped through an elegant condo in Copenhagen, a log cabin in Nebraska, and then…
Phoebe sat up straighter, cracker crumbs raining from her chest.
It was a tiny pink house with a red front door, surrounded by a lush lawn. To one side were a cozy outdoor sofa, a table, and chairs underneath a teak pergola, from which hung a rusty old horseshoe.
Phoebe scrolled through the photos quickly, heart pounding.
On the lawn was a firepit with two chairs. Inside was a snug galley kitchen with open shelving; a minuscule living room filled with plants, books, a love seat, and a television; and a bedroom that was mostly overtaken by a bed covered in a fluffy white duvet and a colorful crocheted blanket.
The last picture showed a rusty gate opening onto a long country road with vibrant trees arching overhead. It looked incredibly peaceful.
The driveway, the caption said.
Phoebe glanced out her window at the jarring sound of two cars honking at each other on the street below. Rain lashed against the dark window.
She looked back at the house and scrolled until she found the location.
Come stay at my Flamingo Cottage in sunny High Springs, Florida!
Phoebe typed as fast as she could:
Hi! Is your house available for the holidays?
Chapter 2
Arden
Rockin’ around the Christmas tree, have a happy holiday,” Arden sang under her breath, bopping her head to the beat as she tied a perfect red bow around a gift bag.
She uncapped her gold glitter Sharpie and wrote in looping cursive, “Happy holidays from Principal Blake!”
Humming happily, she added the bag to the pile that surrounded her. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor of her living room in her plaid Santa pajamas, black hair in a claw clip on top of her head. She counted the gift bags.
Twenty-three. That’s everyone except the cafeteria workers. Oh, and the bus drivers!
Arden ticked the next name off her list and began filling another bag with chocolates, gift cards, a mini–potted succulent, and a small jar of her homemade raspberry jam.
Her phone rang, the sound cutting through the opening notes of “Jingle Bell Rock.”
The name Principal Blake flashed across the screen. And it was a FaceTime call.
“Shoot.” Arden sprang to her feet and checked her reflection in the mirror above the sofa. She released her hair from the clip and shook it out around her shoulders.
She answered the phone. “Hi!”
