Page 44 of No Room in the Inn

Sarah jogs ahead to the car to get Flora out of the cold, but Nixon stays back, walking with me. “Come on,” he says, smiling slightly. It’s the smile I like—warm and genuine. “Admit it: that felt good.”

I think of Edna’s grateful smile, of the tears glistening in her eyes, of the pictures on her walls. “It felt good,” I admit.

Nixon nods in triumph. “Mildred is next,” he says as we approach the car. In a surprise gentlemanly move, he opens my door for me. I slide into the passenger seat gratefully, blowing hot air on my hands and rubbing them together.

“Warning,” Sarah says from the backseat. “Mildred is super grouchy.”

“She can be unpleasant,” Nixon agrees after he gets in the car.

I search my memory, trying to figure out if she’s always been like that, but I come up empty. “Why?” I say, craning my neck around to face Sarah.

Sarah shrugs, stroking Flora’s hair absently. “She and her daughter aren’t on speaking terms. They had some sort of falling out a few years back. I don’t know details.”

“Huh,” I say, a tiny squirm of discomfort niggling at my insides as I imagine, unbidden, my mother twenty years down the road, lonely and grouchy because she and I aren’t on speaking terms. I suddenly remember Nixon’s words from the other day—hisunsolicitedwords—about how distancing myself from my parents hasn’t made me a happier person, but I push that thought away, along with my discomfort. My life is better this way, isn’t it?

Isn’t it?

Nixon, curse him, shoots me a glance that says he knows exactly what I was just thinking. It’s a glance of both sympathy and admonition.

I stop myself from sticking my tongue out at him, but it’s a close thing.

It takes us no more than thirty seconds to get to Mildred’s house. When she answers the door, she’s not nearly as happy to see us as Edna is.

“I’m not interested in whatever you’re selling,” she says, looking at us disapprovingly. “Good—”

“We wouldn’t dream of selling you anything, Mildred,” Nixon says, cutting her off. “We’re here to sing you some Christmas carols.”

Mildred’s beady little eyes take us in suspiciously, as though she doesn’t believe Nixon. Finally she just harrumphs and puts one hand on her hip. “You’re supposed to start singing as soon as the door opens.”

Nixon nods, looking serious. “We’ll remember that next time.”

“And there really should be more of you if you plan on doing the thing properly.”

Once again, Nixon nods. “Of course.”

Mildred’s frown just deepens. Her wiry gray curls are backlit by her porch light, creating a halo-like effect, though she hardly seems angelic. Her gaze is nothing if not condemning.

Still, she finally waves one hand at us. “All right,” she says. “Go on, then. Sing.”

I fight down a surge of disappointment that she doesn’t invite us inside—the wind is picking up—but the way things are going I guess I should be grateful she’s letting us sing at all. However, we’re only partway through Silent Night when she interrupts.

“Stop, stop,stop,” Mildred says loudly over our singing. Her gaze swings between each of us, looking us all over in turn, and when it finally comes to rest on me, she scowls. “You,” she says, pointing at me. “What was your name?”

“Willow,” I say, trying not to let her see how nervous she makes me. I can already guess what she’s going to say.

She gives a sharp nod. “Willow Scott. Gladys’s granddaughter.”

“Yes,” I say.

She nods again. “All right.” She looks back at Sarah and Nixon, apparently considering us as a group once more. “Everyone sing but Willow.”

My jaw drops slightly, and Sarah gives a poorly concealed snort of laughter. Nixon, meanwhile, is suddenly wearing a grin so wide it’s going to reach his diamond-studded ears soon.

I don’t respond, though, because what can I say? “Sorry I can’t carry a tune in a bucket”? I personally don’t notice the difference, but I’ve been told that it’s bad. So I just wait while Nixon and Sarah get through the rest of the song, Sarah fighting back giggles and Nixon grinning. Both of them keep shooting me looks like they think this is the funniest thing in the world.

I just roll my eyes. I’m so blessed to have kind, supportive friends.

My brain screeches to a halt at this thought, and I frown.

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