Page 15 of Wish For Me

“Quick!”

To his credit, Leif thought fast. He managed to lean over me and flip the blanket up, inside-out, over the most delicate parts of our bodies, just as the door opened.

But it wasn’t just my dad standing there. To my abject horror, it was my dad and another man; one who looked confusingly a little like a much older version of the man currently holding the last shred of my dignity together with only his thumb and fingers on a blanket.

The two men stared at us jaws hanging fully open.

Leif cleared his throat. “Hey, Grandpa!”

PARTTWO

Now

CHAPTER4

Leif

ONE YEAR LATER

“Welcome to the Mistletoe Market!” says the spritely elf to the family in front of me.

I register green velvet and stripes guarding the door, but other than that I’m not paying too close attention. My senses are flooded with holiday music, jingling bells, and the scent of cinnamon coming from the little food area next to the entrance of the Quince Valley town hall.

And I’m scanning the crowd inside like I do everyplace I go now that I’m back in Quince Valley. Just in case.

When I reach the elf, they thrusts me a leaflet.

“Thanks,” I say, taking the piece of paper. I might be one of the few people down here who’s going to scrutinize this list of vendors—my goal is to get all my Christmas shopping done in one fell swoop. I meant to study the website before I got here, but had to take my Grandpa’s wife Connie down to her aqua-size class.

A green hand lowers onto the paper before I can move on. “Now wait just a minute,” the hand’s owner says.

I look up into the elf’s face for the first time. Then I grin. “Hey, Carla.”

“Eek!” Connie’s BFF throws her arms around me, waggling side to side with impressive strength. But that tracks since she’s a seventy-something yoga enthusiast who taught me how to downward dog when I was twelve.

Carla finally lets go and appraises me with one squinted eye. “You look more handsome every year, little Leify!”

“Uh, thanks?”

“I missed you last year!”

“I couldn’t stay for Christmas, unfortunately. Busy with school.”

“Your father was pretty upset about it.”

I brush off the mix of guilt and annoyance at that. Dad doesn’t get to be upset about that. He missed enough important events throughout my childhood. “I’m staying longer this year.”

“How are your parents enjoying their retirement?”

“They’re barely retired,” I say. “Both of them sold their stakes in their businesses but they’re still doing consulting.”

She must catch the hitch in my voice, because her eyebrows slant sympathetically. “Well, it’s the holidays now. They’re going to have to sit still for at least a day or two! You too. I hear you’re up for some award at school?”

“More of a grant,” I say.

When Carla asks to learn more I give her the very brief version. I’ve recited it so many times, my gaze wanders as I explain the work.

She’s not here. She’s in New York.

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