Page 8 of Caught in a Christmas Conundrum

I really like when people are willing to consider the other side. Of course, there are a few things I would never consider the other side about. My religion, for one. I thought about that for a while when I was younger, made a decision, and I’m not going to listen to anyone try to talk me out of it or try to make me ashamed for what I believe. That seems to be the going thing, today. People either try to twist the Bible to make it say what they want it to, to talk you out of your opinion, or they try to make you feel bad for needing religion as a “crutch” or convince you that you’re wrong somehow.

I just don’t listen to that. But beyond that, I’m open to thoughts and ideas that I might not necessarily agree with. After all, what I believe should be able to stand up to any kind of challenge, and if it doesn’t, then it means I’m most likely wrong.

“I think you actually believe and mean that you do support me and want to see me succeed,” Kate says eventually, her voice soft and thoughtful. I like this serious Kate. She is successful and kind, but this thoughtful Kate is supremely attractive as well.

“I believe it with my whole heart. The success of the whole town helps me be successful too. It’s not a matter of anyone taking something from me, it’s a matter of us lifting each other up.”

My success contributes to the success of the people around me, and their success contributes to mine.

“That’s such a generous view of life,” Kate says, and I think she’s impressed. I don’t know why I’m surprised, except I’ve been trying for years to try to impress her, and if I would have known that this was the way, I would have said it years ago.

But God’s timing is for a reason, and apparently whatever happened during those years needed to happen before we could have this discussion.

Before she says anything else, I sniff.

Is something burning?

My brows draw down, and Kate looks at my face, her eyes opening wide as though seeing me sniffing and frowning makes her remember that…

“Oh no! I forgot to take the last batch out of the oven!” she says, hurrying to the oven and opening the door, letting out a huge cloud of smoke that soon sets the smoke alarm off.

I go over, taking my apron off to wave it around, hoping to dissipate the smoke. I go to the front door and prop it open, and head back and continue to wave near the smoke detector.

Meanwhile, Kate has taken the tray of sweet corn cupcakes out of the oven, and they are definitely cooked beyond edibility.

“I can’t believe I did that,” Kate says.

“It’s okay. It’s just one batch. I’ll make sure that I don’t distract you by talking to you again.” I don’t know that this is exactly my fault, but I was chatting with her, and it probably didn’t help her focus on what she was supposed to do.

“It’s not your fault,” Kate says, glancing at me as she holds the tray in one hand, getting ready to dump them into the trash can.

But her eyes seem to catch on something, and her head jerks back to me.

“Really?” Her voice holds credulity, and she’s looking at me with her brows raised.

“What?” I say, and then I notice that her eyes are on my apron.

I looked down. I always wear two aprons, and I’d forgotten that I put on the apron that says,my cooking is so good, even the smoke alarms cheer me on.

“Coincidence,” I say, holding up both hands, one hand still gripping my other apron. “I promise, I had no idea this was going to happen.”

Surely she has to believe me. It wasn’t like I deliberately tried to distract her and make her keep the sweet corn cupcakes in the oven. I mean, I did take a little bit of blame for it, but it truly wasn’t me.

“All that garbage that you were just telling me about lifting other people up, and then I find out the truth, that you’re actually plotting to try to destroy everything I’m building.”

“No!” I say, and then I see the gleam in her eyes. She’s messing with me. She’s joking.

I see this is a good sign. She just burnt a batch of sweet corn cupcakes, we’re already crunched for time, we’re trying to dodouble the work that she was expecting to have to do, and she should be stressed and crying, and instead, she’s poking fun at me and laughing.

“You’re messing with me,” I say, and the smoke detector finally shuts off.

She lifts a shoulder, dumping the last of the burnt sweet corn cupcakes into the trash. “I might have been.”

“That was not very nice. I believed you. I was really thinking that you were going to blame me for all of this.”

“Don’t we usually want to blame others rather than taking responsibility ourselves?” she says, looking at me with her chin pointed down.

“It takes a big person to take responsibility for their actions rather than pointing the finger at everyone else,” I agree, and I know I’m talking about Kate. She’s a big person. She’s more intriguing than I had imagined, and I definitely had imagined a lot.

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