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“Where will we live?” Jordan glances back at me with a worried expression that no child should ever have. “Grandma said we live with her ’cause you have no money.”
I stop pushing the swing and walk around to kneel in front of the swing and hold the chains for support, caging her in. “I know Grandma has probably said a lot of things about me. If something ever happened to you, I would be so sad and so hurt, just like Grandma is because your daddy died. He was her baby, just like you’re mine. But the things she says to you about me aren’t true. She’s mad at me because she’s sad, but that doesn’t make it okay. It’s okay to be sad and hurt, but it’s not okay to be mean.”
Jordan nods.
“We moved in with Grandma and Grandpa because our house burned down, but I think it’s time for us to get our own place. You’re starting kindergarten soon, and it will be the perfect time to move.”
Jordan’s eyes light up at the mention of kindergarten. She loves school so much. “Can we move somewhere fun, like the North Pole? Wouldn’t it be so fun to live near Santa? I could go to Elf school!”
I bark out a laugh at her antics. Christmas is her favorite holiday. It was Trent’s and mine as well, so I’ve made it a point to pass it down to her. Silvia wouldn’t allow decorations to be put up or a tree to be in the main house because she said it was too hard with Trent gone. So every holiday season, I take Jordan to see the decorations everywhere else, and we set up a small table tree with ornaments in her room so Santa will find his way to Jordan.
“I don’t know about that,” I say, pulling out my phone and clicking on my maps app. I zoom in on Massachusetts since I can’t afford flights, so wherever we move will have to be within driving distance. Handing it to Jordan, I say, “Pick a place, any place.”
She grins, excited to be part of the process, and takes the phone from me. She’s learning to read, so she sounds out several cities, then she shakes her head, not liking the names of any of them.
“Ch-r-is,” she says, her brows furrowing in frustration. “What does that say?” She points at the word, and my heart stutters, because what are the odds?
“It says Christmas.”
Jordan’s eyes grow big. “Christmas? Like Santa and presents and reindeer and Elf school?”
“Christmas Valley,” I say, giving her the full city name.
“Wow, do you think Santa will be there?” she asks, in awe of the thought.
“Maybe.”
“I bet he’s there,” she says. “Him and the elves.”
“But there’s a chance he’s not,” I warn her, not wanting her to be disappointed.
“But it’s Christmas! Santa has to go there.”
I chuckle. “Is that where you want to live? Christmas Valley?”
“Yes!”
“All right, Ladybug, then Christmas Valley it is.”
Two Weeks Later
“I know it isn’t big,” Gertrude says as she gives Jordan and me a tour of the adorable two-bedroom, two-bath home. I already saw the pictures online, did a virtual tour with the real estate agent, and signed the lease, but Gertrude insisted on giving us a tour herself when we arrived.
She has explained that she’s lived here with her husband for the past thirty years. Since they never had children, they never felt the need to move. Her husband passed away a few years ago, and she’s now decided to move to an assisted living facility because the home feels empty without him. Gertrude wasn’t ready to give it up yet, so instead she’s renting it out.
“It’s perfect,” I tell her as Jordan heads to the room that will be hers. With us living independently for the first time ever, I didn’t want a two-story home. The memories of the fire are still too fresh, and I’d be worried I wouldn’t be able to sleep if either of our rooms were on the second floor.
Instead, our rooms are across from each other. The master has an en suite bathroom, and Jordan’s bathroom is right next to her room, doubling as a guest bathroom—not that we’ll be having company anytime soon, what with my parents and I not on speaking terms and Trent’s mom pissed that we moved out. There’s a decent-sized living room for Jordan to play in, an updated kitchen, a single-car garage, and a wraparound wooden porch. There’s also a screened back porch, with a nice-sized yard that’s been fenced in. The home is adorable, and it’s clear Gertrude and her husband took care of it.
I can’t believe I lucked out finding this place. I thought for sure, once we arrived, we’d find out we’d been scammed—which would’ve sucked since I’m almost positive Silvia would’ve told me to go fuck myself if I asked her to move back in.
