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“We just weren’t compatible, I guess. She’s from Holly Ridge, I’m from Winterberry Glen. She loves Christmas and I hate it. I tried to fix her by going behind her back and trying to arrange a job for her at the capital. I’m leaving in a little over a week. It never would have worked, anyway.”
My mom looked at me in silence, the lights from the tree reflecting off the wineglass as she moved to set it on the table. Oh boy, she was really settling in to lay it on me.
“You know, Cole. Those are some reasons to keep people apart, but the only one I heard you can’t change is where you were both born. You don’t have to take the job with the state just because it was offered to you and it was part of your plan. You can apologize for being a bone-headed mansplainer and be better in the future. And I’ve seen more Christmas spirit in you this year than I have since you were ten years old, the last Christmas your dad was here. Christmas spirit doesn’t happen just because you decide you like a holiday again. It’s about the joining of a community to celebrate the act of giving and being together, that sometimes miraculous things can happen if you just believe in something bigger than yourself. You’ve always tried to fix your problems by either growing a hard shell around yourself or by running away from them. I understand why you did both in the past, but you let Blaire and Christmas in this year. Hell, you’ve even let me in more with the talks we’ve had about our feelings and our past this month. Maybe it’s time to think about facing your fears and your past head on, instead of running away and leaving it behind because it seems like it would be easier.”
Mom let me sit there for a moment and digest what she had just leveled at me, content to gaze at her tree and into the kitchen where Tom was clinking and tapping away, putting the finishing touches on dinner. She had just picked her wineglass back up and was taking a sip when I found my voice again.
“It doesn’t really matter where we’re from, anyway. I got the call earlier this week. It doesn’t look like the festival is going to make enough money to save Holly Ridge. There won’t be a Holly Ridge this time next year. It just makes the most sense for me to move on and move up, taking the state government job.”
My mom looked resigned that I wasn’t quite ready to stray from the path I had been setting up all these years.
“Well, if that is the case, and that would be a real shame, then I would think Winterberry Glen might need its CFO more than ever, and this area is going to need strong, concerned citizens like your Blaire to see them through the transition. You could start new traditions, together.”
Visions of Blaire and I starting new traditions, both in our towns, and as a couple, as a family, flashed through my head. They were the happiest Blaire thoughts I’d had in days, even if I knew they would never be true. My mom’s next words barely broke through my thought fog.
“And anyway, I am of course sad to see a town lose its charter but, I think it might be for the best. I’ve heard rumblings about how the City Council isn’t just inept but are crooked as well. Any way they can line their own pockets instead of the town’s, they would take it.”
That set me on an entirely different thought process. Barney said the numbers from the City Council’s office looked like the festival wasn’t going to make enough money, but the numbers Blaire had set up to auto send me daily—and hadn’t canceled after our fight, her name popping up in my inbox sending stabbing pains into my chest every morning—were even better than her projections. I hadn’t looked closely at the numbers since before the parade, too lost in my own head to do so, but was it possible that the council’s numbers were wrong?
“Oh no, I know that look. That’s your ‘I need to go spend some time with my numbers look.’ First, you’re going to spend time figuring out the equation of how three people are going to eat seven fish courses, then we’re going to watch It’s a Wonderful Life while we digest. The numbers will still be there tomorrow.”
At that, Tom popped into the living room, his Christmas apron still tied firmly around his waist.
“Dinner is served, Thomases!”
“It smells great, dear. We can’t wait to dig in.”
Mom got up from her chair and went to the doorway, reaching up to peck a kiss on Tom’s cheek. I watched him gaze after her, matching the swoony look Mom had earlier. Mom was right. The numbers could wait. It was a long shot, anyway. Our family was changing, and for once, change felt right.
Chapter 30
Blaire
I had continued to avoid my family, trying not to let on that the festival likely wasn’t going to succeed in saving Holly Ridge and also how sad I was about losing Cole. It was an emotional minefield inside my head these days, and not at all how I usually felt in the lead-up to Christmas Eve.
Christmas Eve was usually my favorite. Things were different now that the twins were old enough to have personalities and opinions, but they still believed in Santa, so their excitement made the whole night extra special. We would have a family dinner, just the seven of us, at my parent’s house, making all the traditional Greene dishes, like cornflake cheesy potato casserole and mashed potatoes. We were a potato family, okay. There would be Mannheim Steamroller playing in the background, the wine would be flowing for those old enough, and it was an atmosphere that wasn’t replicated any other time of the year. But this year, I couldn’t even enjoy it. Sure, I was putting on a smile and laughing at H&H’s antics, but my Christmas spirit had definitely left the building. I was pretty sure I had been successful in faking it, though.
In the living room, It’s a Wonderful Life played on the TV on mute while Christmas music played quietly in the background. A fire was roaring in the fireplace with our stockings hung from the mantle above it, and I sat in my favorite chair with a glass of white wine. The rest of the family was in the kitchen and family room, either cleaning up from dinner or trying to tire the twins enough so they’d go to sleep with minimal fight when they got back to their house.
Gretchen and Dad entered the room, a glass of red wine and a hot toddy in hand, respectively, and sat on the couch. They sat in silence for a second before Gretchen broke the silence.
“All right, Blaire. This is the mopiest Christmas you’ve had since you found out the truth about you-know-who from Betty Perkins on the bus on the last day before break. What’s going on?”
Okay, I guess my faking it still needed a little bit of work.
“Oh, nothing major, just tired from all the work on the festival, I guess.”
“Try again, Blaire Bear,” my dad said gently. “Do you know something about the outcome of the festival, and that’s why you’ve been hiding over the past week?”
Damn our special father-daughter connection.
“We won’t know anything for sure until after the Gingerbread Ball,” I hedged, looking between their expectant faces, realizing they weren’t going to let me get away with just that. “But it doesn’t look good.”
They looked at each other and seemed to decide Gretchen would speak next.
“And how are you doing with that?”
Something inside me snapped, like a fragile candy cane.
