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“I...” I snorted. “Is that what you guys think that was? I wasn’t doing Cass’s homework for him. I was doing a grant application. I used to do them all the time, that’s all, so I’m better at them than he is. And it’s not for a teacher, so he won’t get in trouble because I did it.”
“Okay.” Ada sounded relieved, as though her and Em really had been worried that I was standing between them and a visit from Santa. Like they were in any position to judge! It wasn’t like I’d given someone’s Peachblossom a haircut. Although I did still currently have a stolen Peachblossom in the trunk of my car. My daughters and I were good people, I swear, except apparently all bets were off once the universe threw a Peachblossom in the mix.
“Can I learn tap dancing?” Ada asked me. “I want to dance like you did last night, except good.”
That was a fair assessment of my tap-dancing skills. “Sure. We can look into classes in the new year.”
“Because we’re not going back to Boston, are we, Daddy?” she asked me softly.
I reached out and caught her little hand in mine. “No, sweetheart. We’re not going back to Boston. This is our home now.”
She nodded. “Okay. I like it here.”
“What do you like best about it?”
“I like Grandma,” Ada said. “And Jake. And Pebbles and Noelle.”
“Yeah?”
She smiled shyly. “Yeah.”
Huh. So maybe moving back to Christmas Valley hadn’t been the disaster I’d thought it was. Well, at least not for my kids. Grandma didn’t have to be just for vacations—they could have her all year round, and vice versa. It turned out that having all my favorite people in the world living close together wasn’t a bad thing at all. I’d thought coming home was a last resort, an emblem of my failure as a partner and a father and a human being. But maybe it was one of the smartest things I’d ever done.
Huh.
* * *
Dr. Stephen Florris, according to Mom, lived three blocks from downtown on a quiet little street full of lawn decorations as far as the eye could see. I pulled up across from his house. His car was in the driveway, but there were no lights on inside—apart from the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree in the window. I figured he probably wasn’t home—Main Street was close enough that it was easier to walk than drive and try to park—and let out a sigh of relief. Dumping Peachblossom on the porch and running away was definitely Plan A. I was here to rectify my mistake, which was the right thing to do. Apologizing for it was probablyalsothe right thing to do, but I was hoping to avoid that particular humiliation, thanks.
I got out of the car, retrieved the yellow Dollar Store bag containing Peachblossom from the trunk, and allowed myself a moment to consider backing out. Because while Dr. Stephen Florris’s daughter definitely deserved to unwrap Peachblossom on Christmas Day, didn’t Ada as well? Yes! For a second I thought about shoving it back in the trunk and driving off, but I didn’t, because I was being a better person. And also because even if I wasn’t being a better person, I wasn’t sure I could justify the sort of petty larceny that would make a child cry on Christmas morning. Even a child I didn’t know.
“I blame you for this,” I muttered to Liar Bob.
I blame your parents, and you should too,Liar Bob told me.
So maybe the fact I was having a fight with my imaginary friend—who wasn’t as good a friend as he pretended—was to blame for the fact that I somehow lost my footing on Dr. Stephen Florris’s porch steps. I thought there was another step at the top and missed it because it didn’t exist. Then I thought I could windmill my arms out of this—I couldn’t—and landed with a thump on my back on Dr. Stephen Florris’s porch, Peachblossom skidding away from me.
“Ow,” I said, giving myself a moment to make sure nothing was broken. Apart from my throbbing ass, everything seemed pain free. So okay, that could have gone worse, right?
And then, it did.
The front door opened, and Katya stared down at me with her murder face. “Fran. Why are you here? And why do you have a Peachflower?”
“Blossom,” I whispered. “Ow, my ass.”
“Kat?” Dr. Stephen Florris called from inside, in the voice of a man who didn’t know he was taking his life into his own hands by calling her that. “Who is it, sweetheart?”
“Oh my fucking god!” I exclaimed. “Kat?Sweetheart? Whoareyou?”
“Is my asshole friend Fran,” Katya called back. “He stole your Peachflower.”
Dr. Stephen Florris appeared above me. As I gazed up at him, I had the profound realization that while he was very handsome, he was no Cass.
No onewas any Cass.
“Holy shit,” I murmured. Because I was fairly sure I was still in love with Cass—not like, let’s try again and see where it goes, but like, I-need-to-see-you-in-that-Christmas-apron-every-Christmas-until-we-die-of-old-age-in-the-same-heartbeat in love—and this was huge news. Though, Dr. Stephen Florris probably wasn’t as interested in it as I was. “I…” I pulled myself slowly upright and extended the yellow bag. “Do have your Peachblossom. I’ve been trying to find the right time to return it.”
“Before now would have been good,” Katya said. “When were you going to tell me you were holding pony friend hostage?”
