Page 31 of Ghost of Ex-mas Past
“House shopping?” I ask when I reach her side. She’s by herself and the street is quiet. This is the first time we’ve been alone since the Great Make-out Session of Yesterday.
I expect her to laugh it off, but instead she tips her head. “Maybe.”
I jerk my head in surprise. “Really?”
She shrugs. “Yeah. I’d love to have a little house somewhere quaint. You know, raise kids somewhere they can play.”
I swallow hard. A memory hits me—Bea and I talking about the future and her saying she wanted to have a big family like hers. “We grew up just fine in the city.”
Bea rolls her eyes. “Our parents raised us in the suburbs of a medium-sized town. We had a big park to run around in and a cul-de-sac where we played games. Can you imagine growing up in a place like this?” She gestures around us. Cars slow at the pedestrian crossing down the street to let old ladies cross, there’s a playground I passed two blocks away, and I bet the good citizens of Here don’t even lock their doors.
“What would you do for work?”
She laughs. “Who needs an assistant in a town like this? I’d rather be a mom anyway.” Bea tosses me a look that clearly saysduhbefore sauntering off.
I look at the listings, and then stare past them. The other night I was imagining an alternate universe where Bea was pregnant with my child. How many kids would we have? Three? Four?Five?
That’s a lot of people to take care of. I’d want Bea to do whatever she wants, whatever makes her happy. Selling the business would take care of that. No one would provide for Bea like I could. Not even Kit-what’s-his-face.
I meander a bit more, until finally, I step inside a gift shop. There are shirts hung up on one side pronouncing “You Belong Here” in scripted fonts; “Hereian, Hereigan, and Here-er” all crossed out and “Herevian” with big bold letters and exclamation points; “Proud Herevian” and, my favorite: “Forget Whovians, I’m a Herevian!” with a blue telephone booth.
At the end of an aisle is a spinning postcard rack. With a flick of my finger, I spin it one way until it takes a sudden stop and spins back.
I step out of the aisle. Bea is on the other side.
“Hey, again.”Brilliant opener, Charlie.
Her lips quirk. “Small towns.”
She’s playing with the rack, spinning it slightly back and forth.
“Have you called Kit?” I ask.
Bea’s eyes snap to mine. In a low voice, she says, “You know I’m not going to call him.”
My lips curve in a smile. Her eyes drop to my mouth, and she swallows before looking back up at me.
I take a step closer. Bea’s chin tilts up slightly. I let my lips part, and then...
“Can I help you two find anything?” A short, older woman pops around the corner.
Bea blinks and clears her throat, stepping away. “Just shopping for secret Santa gifts.”
“Oh, how fun. Did you know we have some locally made goat’s milk soap? Or how about some strawberry jam?”
I don’t know who Bea has for secret Santa, but she tilts her head and asks if they have any other jam flavors, and the woman leads her to a display in the corner. I hang back, checking out a display of magnets, when my eyes fall on the perfect gift for Bea.
We always haveat least one dinner out during our Christmas vacation. In Pithole that meant a 24/7 diner where most of us ordered breakfast for dinner. This year, we've got a reservation for the nicest place in Here, the Vietnamese restaurant on Main Street.
As such, we have dressed accordingly and are converging in the front hallway. Mom has on a flowy emerald dress and she’s fussing over Dad’s sports coat. I join them in dark gray slacks and an open-collared button-up.
“Charlie,” Mom coos. “Don’t you look handsome.” She reaches up to kiss my cheek, and then swipes away the lipstick left behind with her thumb.
Jasper and Lance are already down, chatting quietly on the couch while Jasper twirls the keys on his finger. Well, Jasper’s chatting. Lance is the quietest person I’ve ever met—both soft-spoken and a man of few words.
Jasper’s volunteered to be a designated driver tonight, and I wonder if it’s in solidarity with Kayla or to throw off the scent for pregnancy suspicions.
Now that I know Kayla’s pregnant, I notice some things that most people would probably miss; she occasionally touches her stomach and often goes to “lie down.”
