Page 71 of Meet Me at the Christmas Cottage
“I’m Amy, by the way. I don’t think we got to meet last night.” Amy stepped forward, one hand extended while the other pushed her dark, chin-length hair behind her ear.
Bronte couldn’t tell much about her in the dim light, but Amy’s eyes seemed kind, like Jonah’s, and she was almost the same height as her.
“Bronte.” Bronte took her offered hand, juggling the suitcase so it didn’t fall over in the middle of the hallway.
“Mom?” a girl with her mom’s dark-colored hair whispered, coming out into the hallway.
“This is my daughter Ruby,” Amy said, tucking Ruby under her arm. Ruby was a carbon copy of her mom, just with glasses added.
“I’m sorry. Did I wake you up?”
Ruby shook her head, pushing her glasses up on her nose. “It’s Christmas morning. I wanted to get up before Grandma and make the waffles. But we have to get up super early because Grandma’s an early riser.”
“Why don’t you get the ingredients out on the counter?” Amy said, pressing a kiss to Ruby’s forehead.
“Uncle Jonah and Aunt Holland are asleep on the couches though.”
“They’ll sleep through anything, it’s fine. Go on, I’ll be there in just a minute.” Amy watched her disappear before turning back to Bronte. “Are you sure you can’t stick around for just a little longer? I’m sure Jonah would want to say goodbye. Or I could go wake him.” She moved like she was going to do just that.
“Oh, no.” Bronte stopped her. “Cody’s already outside waiting. Let Jonah sleep. It was great meeting you.”
“You too,” Amy said as Bronte turned toward the door.
She shouldn’t say anything else but found herself turning back to Amy. “Could you give Jonah a message for me?”
“Of course.”
“Could you tell him Merry Christmas and thanks for letting me crash. And that…I hope he has a lovely life here, with all of you. That he deserves that.” It was all she could get out before tears started stinging the backs of her eyes. She didn’t want to cry anymore.
In the dim light, Amy frowned, but she nodded. “Okay, I’ll tell him.”
Bronte turned back to the door, blinking rapidly against tears.
“Bronte.” Amy’s voice stopped her one more time and Bronte turned. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas to you too.” Flinging the door open, Bronte gasped when the cold air hit her, making her forget for a moment that she was about to cry.
If all it took for her to forget was almost-below-freezing temps, maybe she should just walk to the docks. Letting the door click shut behind her, Bronte squared her shoulders and dragged her suitcase to Cody and the waiting golf cart, feeling as if there was something she was forgetting. She refused to believe it was her heart.
ChapterEighteen
DateDecember 28
Days until Deadline8
Words to be written40,435
Pounding on the door pulled Bronte from her thoughts.
Pushing up from the couch that she had barely moved from in the three days since she’d been home, she made her way to the door. Only when she got there did she remember she was wearing three-day-old sweatpants, a T-shirt that hadn’t been washed since—well, she couldn’t remember when, and an old ratty house robe that she had bought with her first royalty check. She lifted her shirt and sniffed. Cringe. She smelled like onion rings. At least she had a bra on. Hopefully her guest wouldn’t look down on her lack of hygiene.
Who was she kidding? She looked down on herself for the lack of hygiene. Or maybe, if she were lucky, it’d scare them off.
But when she flung the door open, her best friend stood on the other side. “Lexi?”
Lexi, red hair flowing from under a cream-colored beret that would do nothing to keep her ears warm, pushed past Bronte, arms loaded down with a suitcase, a canvas messenger bag, and shopping bags. It looked as if she’d hit up the shops in Utica Square.
“By all means, come in.”
