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All the heartfelt messages about love and completion had started her head spinning with possibilities. What if the story had actual power? What if, by reading the drool-worthy account herself, Erin could find true love this Christmas?
The first thought that hit her after Brock opened the door (when she could think again) was that maybe this was the guy—her Christmas wish come to life. Until he’d opened his mouth. “That man is a Christmas nightmare. He could barely be civil—and we came bearing gifts.”
“We woke him up,” Mrs. Granger repeated.
“And he paid us back by flashing us in his underwear.”Stop thinking about him in his underwear!
“I thought he was nice,” Liza said. “And I love what he’s done to the house. The wall color was so warm and inviting, and the kitchen looked modern with the new granite and backsplash. He’s got fabulous taste—and an adorable backside.”
“Would you get your mind out of the gutter?” Erin begged. She didn’t need any company as she did laps in the dirty sewer water all by herself. “He’s less than half your age.”
“So you’ve said. Maybe I’m a cougar. I’ve never been with a younger man.”
Mrs. Granger scrunched her face like she’d bitten into a lemon. “Gross, Liza. He looks young enough to be your grandson. Don’t you have a grandson?”
“I do. Several of them.” She swung her gaze to Erin. “How old do you think he is? Thirty? Thirty-five?”
“I have no idea.” He was old enough to strike her fancy and young enough to follow through. She admonished herself and her runaway fantasy. She would not be attracted to someone who recklessly sped through their neighborhood and stubbornly refused to apologize. No matter how good he looked in his underwear. “And I don’t care.”
“Liar,” Liza said. “So, about this party. What can we do to jazz things up? I’d hate for Ben to get the impression we’re all just a bunch of boring old fuddy-duddies.”
Mrs. Granger stopped at her driveway and shook her head at Liza. “Wearea bunch of boring old fuddy-duddies.”
“Speak for yourself.” Liza turned to Erin. “Seriously, what have you got planned?”
“The same potluck dinner as last year. The same ugly Christmas sweater contest. That’s all.”
“That’s it?” Liza threw her hands in the air. “One old lady tells you no and you’re just going to give up?”
“Darlene oversees the committee. She gets the final say.”
“Says who? Come on, Erin. You know you’re dying to sprinkle your magic dust on that boring affair.”
She really did want to make it better, but at what cost? “Why me? Why do I have to do it?”
“Because Darlene already dislikes you. You’ve got nothing to lose.”
“What?” Erin sputtered. The dastardly Mrs. Richardson strikes again. “Why?”
Liza’s shrug told Erin she should already know. “She feels threatened by you.”
“By me? What have I ever done?”
“You’re young, and energetic, and everyone loves you.”
Erin always thought those qualities set her apart and made her special. She never expected someone to use those qualities against her. “Darlene Richardson ran a division of NASA. I’m a work-from-home graphic artist struggling to pay my bills. That’s … insane.”
“What can I say?” Liza asked. “She’s a woman. Women will always seek to destroy each other, no matter how mature we pretend to be. It’s one of nature’s laws.”
Erin knew it was one of nature’s laws forhergeneration, but she assumed at some point women would all get along. The thought was too depressing to ponder. “And you suddenly care about this party because why?”
“Because sometimes you’ve got to force change. Open their eyes to the possibility of more. We’re old and stuck in our ways. We need a kick in the pants sometimes.”
“If you feel this strongly about the party, why haven’t you volunteered? The committee is always looking for members.”
“Darlene is one of my oldest friends, but she’s as stubborn as a mule. I don’t seek out opportunities to butt heads with her when they happen so frequently on their own.”
“And you think she’s going to be okay with me spicing things up without her approval?”
