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“I know. But it’s our secret.”
Chelsea came back in with the bag of poo, gagging like she’d gotten some in her mouth. I took the bag and walked it out to where Ethan had told me there was a dumpster in the back. When I came back in Ben had put a new ribbon in Baby Girl’s hair and she was curled up in Chelsea’s lap.
“Excuse me,” Ben said slipping the comb back into my bag. “But I was wondering, have you ever thought of making clothes for your dog?”
I put my hand to my forehead and nearly fell backward in a swoon. “That is only my biggest dream.”
Ben laughed. “You’re teasing.”
“I’m not. In fact, I was thinking of making her a little elf costume for Christmas.”
“I can do that!” Ben said.
“You can?” Chelsea asked.
“Yeah, he can!” I cried. “We’ll have a holiday sewing club.” Ben looked absolutely delighted. Chelsea not so much.
“There you are,” a woman said, coming downstairs from the second-floor rooms. She had some classic mom hair and bright red lipstick that looked pretty great on her. She wore a necklace that had Christmas bulbs on it and I was jealous. I was going to need to up my Christmas accessory game if I was working the front desk of this inn.
“Mom!” Ben cried. “You’re never going to believe—”
“You can tell me about it on the way to dinner. We’re late as it is. Come on.” Ben got to his feet, some of Baby Girl’s fur slipping off his pants leg as he stood. “Oh my god, you’re covered in dog fur. Honey. You need to run up and change. Hurry.”
She shooed Ben off toward the stairs and didn’t look back at the rest of us once.
“I better go, too,” Chelsea said lifting Baby Girl carefully off her lap. “We’ll see you tomorrow, Lexie.”
Chelsea was gone too and it was just me, sitting there behind the desk.
I’d woken up determined to come up here, punch Ethan in the dimple, get a divorce, and be home by nightfall. And now I was working the front desk at his Christmas inn and going home to him tonight. The paperwork wasn’t signed. He was paying me and his father did not like me.
And I’d started a kid’s sewing club.
This Christmas could not get any weirder.
9
Ethan
“Listen,” I said into the phone, setting down the wooden spoon I’d been using to stir the garlic and butter. “There’s a point of decreasing returns on this and if it’s now, it’s now.”
Anna, who handled parking permits for the city, sighed heavily. “Tell me how we turn down the Hockey News.”
“You say, ‘I’m sorry Hockey News. While I understand the draw of Matt the Mountain Kringle, we have only so many parking permits for the Jamboree and you’ll have to park your van a mile away at the overflow lot. Or...” I added a cup of pasta water to the butter. “…conversely, you say ‘Come on in, Hockey News. I will create more permit space.’ This is your call Anna.”
“We’ve never had this many requests. What if I screw it up?”
“You won’t. You can’t. Whatever you decide will be the right answer. I promise you.”
“Okay.” She took a deep breath. “I’m saying yes.”
“Atta girl.” I hung up and poured the cooked pasta into the sauce and stirred. This pasta was my third-date dish. My we-might-have-sex dish, which was weird considering how much garlic was in it, but it was delicious and impressive and I couldn’t fuck it up.
It was 7:30 and Lexie should be walking in the door any minute and I was weirdly…keyed up. It felt like a third date. Not that I thought we were going to fuck, though I couldn’t pretend that wasn’t a really fabulous idea.
I was just excited to see her.
Outside my front door I heard the murmur of voices and wondered if Lexie was unsure if this was my house so I crossed my open concept kitchen and living room and threw open the front door.
“No, Mom, I swear,” she was saying, her back to me. “It’s not about the marriage. It’s not…Mom! He’s paying me. Yes. That’s what I said. I know, it will help. No, Mom, it’s fine. I’ll be back Christmas Day. Yes. I’ll be smart.”
I ducked back, about to shut the door like I hadn’t been eavesdropping, but she turned and caught me.
Her eyes narrowed.
“I thought you might be lost,” I said.
“On your porch?”
I opened the door wider. “Come on in.”
She stepped in with her dog in purse and a silver wheelie suitcase, and my house, which was completely normal and a little boring, was totally transformed. The rugs looked better, my couch looked distressed rather than beat-up. My kitchen island, with its funky overhead lights that always seemed a little too fancy, now seemed just right.
