Page 152 of My Merry Mistake
For a flicker of a moment, I actually thought finally my patience had paid off. I let myself believe she realized that what I said was true—we’regreattogether.
I should’ve known she’d get cold feet. The woman is a beautiful, frustrating, amazing pain in the neck.
I wonder what she’s doing right now.
I blow out a breath and try to stop thinking about her. I can’t fix anything until I get back anyway.
Since everyone’s busy this morning, I decide to head over to the community center to see if there’s anything I can do tohelp before the party tonight. When I was there yesterday, I was mostly in meetings, talking with the new volunteers, and touring some of the renovated rooms—now outfitted with more technology to keep up with today’s kids.
It’s important to me that I connect with the people who are making this all happen, and I know they’re going to be decorating and prepping most of the day.
I grab my laptop and keys, then hop in Pop’s work truck, and drive toward town, carefully balancing my open mug of coffee.
I take in the big, open views as I drive into downtown Silverwood, struck with a pang of nostalgia when I see the familiar Christmas decorations downtown. Tonight, the entire street will glow from strings of lights hung on lampposts, zigzagging from one side to the other. There’s a Santa booth at the end of one block, and all the stores are decorated for the holiday. People rush around, trying to finish last-minute shopping, and I flip on a Christmas station to get in a festive mood, something I just haven’t been feeling lately.
I park outside a nondescript brick building a few blocks from downtown and spot Momma’s red truck parked a few spots over. I don’t understand why she still drives that thing—it’s more rust than truck—but I think there’s sentimental value she’s hanging onto with Ol’ Red.
A mom and her two young kids walk into the building. I think Momma said there’s childcare all day for working parents or those who don’t have uninterrupted Christmas shopping time. This place is making an impact.
Right here where we are.
I get out of the truck and walk toward the building, eyes fixed on the mountain range in front of me. I take my phone out and snap another photo, then tuck it into my pocket and walk inside.
The building has been great, but the community center is already out of space. The expansion is going to require a lotof fundraising and maybe a grant or two. But after yesterday’s meetings, we have a solid plan.
When I walk in, I stand in the lobby and get my bearings. There’s no one at the front desk, but I hear voices coming from one of the three large activity rooms. I start walking toward the door when I hear someone call my name.
I turn and find my mom marching toward me. She looks . . . worried?
“Hey, Momma.” I saunter toward her. She grabs my arm and turns me around. “What’s going on?”
“I thought you’d come down later, after lunch,” she says. “After our chat.”
I frown. “I wanted to see if I could help. Maybe try on the Santa suit.” My smile is faltering. Something is wrong.
She glances back toward the open door where the sound of Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas is You” is playing. “Do you remember when I said I wanted to talk to you about the center?”
I shake my head. “No.”
She waves a hand in the air. “It was last month. You were distracted, and Dad took the phone from me and probably gave you terrible advice on your love life.”
I cross my arms. “He said he was put on the earth to admire you.”
She bites back a smile. “That old flirt.” She pats my arm. “That’s where you get it, you know.”
“Oh, I know.” I grin. “But I get my good looks from you.”
She sighs comically. “Will you go home and wait for me to come talk to you? Go help your dad with the horses.”
“Momma, if it’s a big deal, why didn’t we have thechatyesterday?” I emphasize the wordchatbecause she keeps using it like it’s important.
“It was the first time we’d all been together in months,” she says, visibly troubled. “I didn’t want to spoil it.”
“Okay. What’s going on?” I ask. “Just tell me whatever it is.”
She works the corner of her mouth between her teeth, then lets out a sigh. “Fine, but just know?—”
But before she can say more, a woman with wiry blond hair walks out into the lobby. “Melinda, I wasn’t sure if we were wrapping all the—” She sees me and stops short.
