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Mom should be asleep, but I know her sleep schedule has been wonky between her recovery, pain, meds, and just everything. I text first to ask if I can call. My phone rings almost as soon as I hit send.
“Well, there you are! I was starting to worry. Carl said you went back to Toronto for a last-minute work emergency, but it’s not like you to leave without so much as a text.”
“Sorry. Mr. Merryman has been breathing down my neck to get back in the office all month. Last night he said if I wasn’t here for the meeting today, I should probably polish up my resume. I didn’t have a choice.”
“Hm. I thought you were spending the evening with Carl?”
“That was the plan. Did you see him?” I bite back a barrage of needy questions. I’m aching to know how he seemed. Was he upset? Hurt? Pining for me half as much as I’m missing him right now? I doubt it. He has his family, Saint, and even my mom to lean on. I’ve got…my half-dead spider plant. And Mom on the other end of a late-night phone call. That’s not nothing.
“I did. Beatrice brought me to the booth with the last of the crafts for the season when you didn’t show up to get them this morning. Carl was there by himself. He said something came up for you. I tried calling, but your phone went right to voicemail, so I figured you’d be in touch when you could.”
Shit. I totally forgot about my commitment to Mom’s craft booth when I rushed off to deal with work. I might be an asshole for that. My job might be incompatible with not being an asshole. And that’s not who I want to be anymore.
“How did it go?” Mom asks.
“Eh? We saved the contract. Probably. Pulled a dozen people in from their family time to make some changes.”
Changes that don’t matter and no one will remember in a few days, let alone years. But I bet Carl will remember how I ran out on my promises to him. Fuck. I pinch the bridge of my nose, wishing I could go back to last night and just turn my phone off before the party. Even if it meant waking up on Christmas morning without a high-powered job to go move back to Toronto for.
“How did the market go?” I ask to distract from my self-recriminations.
“Wonderful. Carl had to close up early since he sold everything and he even got me a few new commissions. Not quite as many as you, but I suppose that’s why they pay you the big bucks at your firm, right?”
I try to force a laugh, but it comes out strained.
“What’s wrong dear?” Mom asks, clearly worried about me. That makes me feel even worse because I didn’t give my promises to her a second thought when I dropped everything for work yet again. I’m the worst. And I’m going to change that. Starting now.
“Nothing.” I shake my head, negating the word even as I say it. “Just…would it be crazy of me to put in my notice and try my hand at freelancing from Elk’s Pass?”
“Not at all. Is that feasible?”
“If I sell the condo and downsize my lifestyle a bit? I think so.”
“Well, you’re welcome to stay with me while you build your freelance portfolio, or whatever you need to do to make the move work.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. What do you think? No hard feelings if you aren’t interested.”
“I need to crunch some numbers, but yeah, I’m interested.” I’m interested in building a family in Elk’s Pass with Carl. Decorating for all the Christmases to come with him. But that’s getting ahead of myself. “Hey, is it raining there too?”
“No, not anymore, but we got enough freezing rain last night to melt all the snow. It’s a shame. I hear the power is out west of town where Hydro One hasn’t buried the power lines yet. If you’re planning to come back, drive carefully. The roads will be slick with the temperature drop overnight.”
“Shoot. Carl would have loved a snowy Christmas morning.”
Then it hits me. I need to win Carl back, and what better way than with the sort of grand gesture that will make him swoon? I’m going to pull out all the stops to give Carl a perfect holiday memory, and then I’m going to grovel for his forgiveness.
“Say, does Beatrice’s niece still manage the ski hill?”
“Yes, why?”
“Can you get me her number? Or is it too late to call? And I might need a little help from you.”
“Of course.” Mom says. There’s rustling on the line, like she’s moving around. “I’m sure she’s still up. Susan is a night owl. But what’s the rush?”
“I’m going to make a little holiday magic; I have a boyfriend to win back.” And this time, I don’t want there to be anything fake about it.
Chapter 14
