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Or rather, the place she’d been calling home, anyway.
Her cell phone vibrated against her waist, and with her heart suddenly pounding, she tugged it from the pocket of her pea-green jacket. Was it Jake?
He’d called several times over the last few days, but not to her cell—he’d left messages at her house, and since she hadn’t been staying there, she’d missed his call every time. The last message had been left two days ago, and he had told her that he was going to be home today, not sure what time, and that he missed her and needed to talk.
Of course she had called him back, but both times his cell was off.
God, she felt like an absolute shit.
Marnie had filled her in on why he’d flown back to Boston—Lily’s brother had passed away. A lump formed at the back of her throat at the thought, and as much as she felt awful for the woman, she couldn’t help the thread of jealousy that ran through her. Jake cared enough about Lily to be there for something as awful as the death of her sibling, and yet—as much as she tried—she couldn’t forget that he hadn’t been there for Raine when she needed him the most.
And it was unfair of her. He had no idea what she’d gone through, and Lord knows he was going through just as much, but still.
But still, it would have been nice.
She glanced at the number and sighed. It was her mother.
Raine wandered over to the massive display of Christmas trees, searching for a balsam fir, or a Fraser, if there wasn’t one left. She supposed it wasn’t the most environmentally friendly thing to do, but for Raine, a fake tree didn’t signify Christmas. She had one at the carriage house, but this year it wouldn’t do.
“Gloria,” she said as she cocked her head and studied several candidates. Picking a Christmas tree was tricky. It had to be right. The right shape and size.
“Raine, where are you?”
She leaned closer and inhaled deeply, a smile on her face when she stood back. The right Christmas tree also had to have the right smell. It needed to be sharp and fragrant. It needed to smell like Christmas.
“I’m at Kris Kringle Trees, why?”
She tried to keep the sharp tone from her voice, but it was hard. The woman had played at being an absentee parent for as long as she could remember, so now, having her here in Crystal Lake, butting in where she wasn’t exactly wanted, was hard to deal with.
Though if she was honest, Raine would have to admit that Gloria Delgotto had managed to be a bit of a distraction this past week—even if Raine didn’t always appreciate it.
“I’m just wondering if you’re still coming to the candlelight service at the church?”
Friday. Christmas Eve.
Four whole days away.
“Uh, I don’t know. I might be busy.”
I’ll take this one, she mouthed to the bored-looking teenager who was assisting the jovial Kris Kringle.
“Seventy-five bucks,” the kid said, pushing his orange knit cap farther back on his head. His pinched nose was red from the cold, and the long hair that hung down to his neck was jet-black. He sported a nose ring and attitude that could fill the entire square.
“Are you kidding me? That’s freaking robbery.”
“Raine? Who are you talking to?” her mother asked.
She ignored Gloria, her focus on the teen, who chewed a wad of gum as if it were the most precious thing in the world. The kid glanced toward his boss, but Kris Kringle was busy with another couple.
“I’ll give you fifty bucks, and you’re going to tie this sucker to the top of my car, and I won’t tell the fat jolly man over there that you just tried to rip me off and pocket twenty-five bucks for yourself.”
The kid scowled, muttered, “Whatever,” and went about securing the tree.
“Raine, are you still there?”
“Yeah, I’m still here. I’m trying to buy a damn Christmas tree, but I’m still here.”
“Oh, do you need help setting it up?” The hopeful tone in her mother’s voice was too much. She needed to cut things off before Gloria got too comfortable.
