Page 32 of Holiday at Home
A little voice comes on. “Has Santa Claus come back to the bakery?”
I laugh. “You mean Roger?”
“Sure,” Nash says, drawing out the word with a six-year-old’s skepticism. “Let’s call him Roger.”
“He has. I actually see Roger every day. He said to tell you hi.”
“Mommy, did you hear that?” Nash’s voice is muffled but excited. “Santa said hi to me!”
Nora comes back on the line, laughing. “You just made his decade.”
“That’s fine because he definitely made mine. That’s hilarious. I’ll tease him about it when he’s all grown up.”
I end the call and glance around my festive living room, suddenly hyper-aware I don’t want to be alone. I pick up my phone, pull up Simon’s contact, and hit send.
“Well, if it isn’t Violet Sterling,” he says when he answers. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I have a mantle full of cards and gifts that need repaying.” I pick one up, cradle the phone with my shoulder, and trace the lyrics with my finger.
…my true love gave to me…
“That’s the funny thing about gifts, Vi. They don’t require reciprocation.”
“Maybe if the person you’re giving to is an asshole.” I set the card back in its place and pick up an old family picture, wiping the dust off the glass and smiling at the memory. Nora and I were twelve, all gangly legs and goofy grins. Mom and Dad took us to the pier for a music festival and we spent the whole day in the sun, eating greasy food and giggling over boys. A stranger offered to take this for us at the end of the day, Mom’s head on Dad’s shoulder, Nora and I in front of them, grinning. Happy.
“You’ve apparently never given gifts in New York,” Simon says, snapping me back to the present.
“And thank goodness for that, if that’s how it works.” I set the picture down and adjust the phone to my other ear, prepping myself for my next question. “I wondered if you’d want to come over, so I could repay you with baked goods. Sugar cookies this time. One catch though, we’d have to bake them together.”
My heart pounds as I wait for his answer. You’d think my life hangs in the balance instead of just a quiet evening in with an old friend.
What if I pushed too hard too fast?
What if he misunderstood my motives?
What if he doesn’t consider me an old friend?
What if I’m an inconvenience instead?
What if…?
What if…?
What if…?
“You know what, Violet?” Simon sighs heavily. “I really don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Well, hell. The anxiety was right for once.
“Oh yeah, of course.” I go for breezy and fail miserably. “I totally understand. Yeah, it was just a thought but?—”
“I’m kidding. Just kidding,” Simon cuts in. “I’d love to come over and bake cookies with you. I mean, what man wouldn’t jump at the chance? It’s a very masculine way to spend the evening.”
“Laugh all you want, but at the end we get to eat sugar cookies.”
“Plus, the company is good.”
And suddenly I’m smiling again. “There is that. So… is that a yes?”
