Page 11 of Holiday at Home
“We got in so much trouble.”
Violet shakes her head, her real smile blooming. “Remember? How could I forget? The whole thing was Simon and Robbie’s idea, but it was me and Nora who were grounded for a week.”
Robbie shoves his hands in his pockets. “Whaddaya say we get some tonight? I mean, we basically owe it to our younger selves.”
“You guys have fun,” Nora says. “But Nash needs at least one responsible adult looking after him this evening.”
“Fair enough, but what about you two?” Robbie rubs his hands together, mischievous smile firmly in place. “Three rum-soaked apple ciders for the large and not in charge in the crowd?”
I look to Violet, who shrugs. “Why not? It is a celebration, after all.”
Though nothing about her sayscelebration ready.
She’s in black pants with black boots. If I remember correctly from earlier today, there’s a black sweater under that white puffy jacket. Sure, she’s smiling and yes, she’s joining in, but somehow it feels like the thing that makes VioletVioletis nowhere to be found.
Maybe that’s because I’m here.
I cross my legs as nonchalantly as possible, just in case.
“Looks like the yeas have it,” I say, and Robbie—with his special brand of always-in-motion, always-doing-for-others—trots off toward the booth to place the order.
Nora and Nash get lost in a heated debate over Santa’s living situation. I glance at Violet. She smiles coldly, then looks away, taking a sip of her cider while I pick at invisible lint on my shirt.
“So how’ve you been?” I finally blurt out, then mentally groan. I mean, really?
Her parents just passed away.
She’s living alone.
She’s dressed like it’s Halloween and not Christmas andthat’smy opening line?
“I mean, how are you? I kind of have an idea how you’ve been. But, you know, how are you coping?”
Atta boy, Holiday. That’ll fix it.
Violet stares for a long moment, a shadow in those eyes that used to be so familiar. It’s like no time has passed at all, yet we’re in a completely different timeline, staring at each other across a great divide.
“I’m fine,” she responds, her gaze focused on the unlit tree.
“Oh, come on now. You don’t have to pretend with me.” I bump my shoulder against hers and earn myself an incredulous stare before Violet shrugs.
“Today was a good day in a stream of weird days.” She takes a sip of her apple cider. “Though this part of the day is a little weirder than I expected.”
I laugh. “You can say that again.”
Robbie arrives with the rum-soaked cider, and his natural “good time” energy we so desperately need. We drink. We laugh. We talk about old times growing up in this town, the four of us friends from the second we met.
Remember that time we all sat on the pier, watching a storm roll in and Violet got so scared…?
Remember the last time we were all together, when Robbie had just gotten his orders and Nora had just found out she was pregnant…?
Remember when Cal Monroe tried to talk us into breaking into the old lighthouse out near the palm grove…?
Remember…?
Remember…?
Remember…?
