Page 7 of Stay this Christmas
“Unlikely.”
We sat down at a table, and I laid the board between us, preparing myself for another tally mark in a long streak of backgammon losses.
Grandpa’s mouth pulled into a smile, accentuating every wrinkle on his face. My chest constricted at that harsh reminder of just how long I’d been away from Magnolia Ridge. Eighty-five was worlds away from seventy-five, and I hated how much time with him I’d lost. We’d kept in touch, mostly through phone calls and the occasional video where he faced the camera the wrong way, but it didn’t compare to actually being here together.
I had plenty to make up for on all fronts.
He laid out the pieces on the board, his fingers sure despite their tremble. “You have a plan for getting your life in order yet?”
He’d asked some variation of that question twice a week for the last month, and I still didn’t have any better answer than I’d had the day I first got back in town.
“I’m winging it.”
He arched a brow, shaking the dice cup. “That’s been part of your problem all along, hasn’t it?”
Maybe. I’d never been good at planning ahead.Act first, think it through laterwas more my speed. After high school, my only goal had been to put as much distance between me and Magnolia Ridge as I could. I’d needed to get away from my dad and the constant reminder I’d royally screwed up in ending things with Harper. Thanks to gifts from my grandpa and more savings than I knew what to do with, I’d followed my thirst for new views and experiences from Stowe to Jackson Hole to Queenstown, New Zealand, never thinking further than what I wanted in the moment. Schooling and certifications were only to get a job—or more likely, a location—that sounded fun. Rock climbing, ski patrol, yoga instructor, none of it came out of a big plan. I wanted to do it, and that was enough motivation for me.
My decision to come back to Magnolia Ridge hadn’t been quite so spontaneous. Grandpa had planted the idea a couple of years ago—the moment he’d mentioned Harper Webb worked in the Village, to be exact—but I hadn’t seen it as a real possibility. In what universe would she ever want me back? I’d held out up until the summer, when my mentor’s life-altering accident flipped my perspective on its head. In what universe shouldn’t I try?
My guiding lead in Colorado had built a life around climbing I envied, but one careless wreck had taken his leg, and along with it, his vision for his future. Seeing my hero broken and alone, pushing everyone who cared about him out of his life, had rattled me like a knock to the head. Non-stop travel and adventure hadn’t seemed so all-important after that.
“Maybe it’s time to sit down and work out a plan. You need to win that woman back, get a job, and put your life together.”
I laughed at how easy he made it sound. Just three steps, right?
“I don’t think Harper’s interested in being won back.” Anyway, planning how to get my ex-girlfriend back sounded a little creepy in my book. I’d come home hoping to reconnect with her, along with Grandpa and the rest of my family. But winning her back was about a thousand steps away from reconnecting, considering she’d run from the room when I’d called her my friend. She wasn’t exactly giving off warm fuzzy vibes.
The job part probably did require more thought than I’d given it. Currently, I slept on my sister Georgia’s couch. Generous of her, but not ideal. After years of shared apartments and couch-surfing, I wanted my own place. That meant solid work—stringing together part-time jobs only got me so far. But I wasn’t really built for longevity in the workplace, as my patchy resume would confirm, and so far, I hadn’t found a good fit here. My skill set was better suited to seasonal work in tourist towns than setting down roots in Nowhere in Particular, Texas.
“You could always ask your dad for help finding work. He’s got connections. Maybe even something at his firm.” He laughed. “A nine-to-five job might not be so bad after years of working crazy hours.”
The hours weren’t the problem. I bit my tongue as I moved my pieces around the backgammon board, unwilling to spoil the afternoon by telling him Christopher Donnelly would be the last person I asked for help.
My parents’ split had been messy, and although my mom made her share of mistakes, they didn’t total up to much compared to Dad’s. The lies upon lies, the affair, his total lack of shame for my half-brother’s arrival three months after his divorce from my mom finalized—yeah, Christopher Donnelly wasn’t my favorite person in Magnolia Ridge.
He reached out regularly, eager to share whatever latest shiny thing was going on with his new family.“Finn’s a T-ball champ.” “Willa built a Lego set all by herself.”To any outsider, he sounded like an invested dad, but the less forgiving side of me chafed at how he wanted applause for doing all the things he’d missed out on with Georgia and me. With us, he’d been around but not involved, spending more time in the office than at home. Now, he spent his days coaching Little League teams and having tea parties like his life’s goal was aWorld’s #1 Dadmug.
Throw into the mix the fact he’d never acknowledged his divorce from Mom might have been hard on us. Never apologized for what we went through, or conceded he might have gone about things ass-backwards. His arrogant insistence we not only accept but be happy about the new normal added one more layer of hurt and anger to an already complicated situation. He stood in the middle of chaos he’d created and wanted us all to cheer his good fortune.
“There’s always that outdoors store downtown,” Grandpa said.
I pushed away thoughts of my dad’s self-indulgent choices as another one of my pieces came off the board. One of these days, I’d figure out the strategy to this game. “No openings, I already asked.”
He nodded, plotting his next move. “It’s a long drive to the nearest ski resort.”
He joked, but I’d had the same thought several times these last weeks.
Once again, I’d moved to a place without any clear idea of what I would do for work when I got here. I’d only known I needed to come back and try to reconnect with the people I’d left behind. My mentor’s accident had woken me up and made me see I needed more than just a place to live—I needed a home.
But I’d been back over a month and didn’t feel any closer to that goal than the day I first left town. The job situation looked bleak, I still held onto mountains of resentment toward my dad, and my ex-girlfriend glared at me as if she’d like to toss me off the nearest cliff.
Grandpa chuckled. “It’s not so easy starting your life over, is it?”
I’d started my life over several times. I knew better than most how to pack up my things and hit the road running. Starting over would be no problem—it was starting overhereI wasn’t sure I could do.
THREE
harper
