Page 26 of OMG Christmas Tree
“The More You Know. Roger that—no gawking unless you pull over.”
“For real, though. What’s your job like? Can you make your own hours since it’s your family’s business?”
The box I carried grew heavier with each step. “Sort of. I mean, I’m here doing this instead of at the shop.”
“Do you design anything? I guess I don’t know much about what a print shop does.”
“We do a lot of commercial orders. We aren’t into the design part, but we can help customers choose the best format for their print jobs. I’m more interested in making our business efficient. Modernizing. Looking at greener options that reduce waste. This has to be boring for you.”
“I asked. I’m curious. That’s great that you can see your family business in a new light.”
Except nothing about working for the family business felt new at all. Talking to Megan about my life in Crystal Cove reminded me of talking with classmates who’d left for good after high school. Their Instagrams showed them in cool places like Portland or Denver or Miami. Jobs as sports team trainers, web developers, a doctor in residency. Then me, a graduate with a business degree from UW-Madison, and I came right back home to get handed a job at the family company. My life was Crystal Cove, and the entire town limits could be seen from the top of this hill.
Finally, we reached the mansion’s front porch. I set my box on the worn step and slid open the door.
Warm air shot through and the retroRockin’ Around the Christmas Treeblasted from a portable stereo on the staircase facing the entry.
When little kids saw a mall Santa or a pile of presents with their name on it, that was Megan’s face right now. “Wow, it’s gorgeous in here. Cozy for a mansion.”
“I thought you didn’t like Christmas?”
She tried glaring at me, but the bite never showed. She looked cuter than ever.
Jill had gotten to work arranging greens along the polished wood staircase banister, with some winter-looking flowers displayed in vases on tables. A rolled-up red carpet stood on its end by the door.
“Incoming.” Megan tapped her phone. “My mom is asking my ETA. I’m going to tell her it will be awhile. She can get me on her way to the airport to pick up my brother.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I’m going to help you.”
The room shrank as her words hit. Accepting her help didn’t feel right. “It’s only these two boxes. I’ll be fine.”
Instead of answering, she texted with fast fingers. “Done. She’ll check in with me on her way out.” She smiled brightly.
“I like you being here,” I paused, not sure I should have said as much. “But not if it means stealing your time away from your family.”
She gave me a look translating to,Wrong again, dummy.“You said it yourself, my mom is the one who pushed us into hanging out. Besides, I spent plenty of time at House of Stu last night.”
“You mean your mom’s house. The Krueger house.”
She flinched. “Sure. My small-town hideaway whenever I need an escape.”
Funny that anyone saw Crystal Cove as an escape. This town held me in. Held me back.
“Okay. Give me the tour.” She gestured to the surrounding room.
“You want a tour?”
“Of the mayor’s mansion by the mayor’s son? How could I refuse?”
“You can’t usually refuse something that isn’t offered.” It sounded meaner than I meant. She bit her lip. Oh man, now Icouldn’trefuse. “I’ll show you around.”
I made for a sucky tour guide, but Megan didn’t seem to mind. I answered her questions the best I could. When was the mansion built—1899. Kept in the same family for generations until they donated to the city and the house was designated a historic site. I’d never actually lived in the mansion, and as far as mansions went, this place wasn’t all that big.
“Is this chair original to the house?” Megan pointed to a high-backed wooden chair with a nearly threadbare cushion.
Was it me, or were these questions getting harder? “Sorry. Jill might know.” We finished upstairs and headed back down. “Would you believe me if I told you the house is haunted?”
