Page 9 of Holiday at Home
“I’m sorry about that,” I say. “Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“I’m fine,” he mutters, though his eyes scatter annoyance into the conversation like confetti. “You always were a hot mess, Violet Sterling.”
Russ Calder is the same age as me, but he’s been a grumpy old man since the second grade. Nobody ever lives up to his standards—not even himself. Probably especially not himself. Which is why he’s so eager to take his frustrations out on the rest of the world. I wish him well and stroll down the street, waving at Mrs. Paisley and her little girl as we pass.
“You need a ride?” Mrs. Paisley calls over her shoulder, and I shake my head.
“I love to walk. It’s good for the soul.”
A few more blocks, and I reach Town Square.
Stillwater Bay never does anything halfway, and Christmas is no exception. The unlit pine towers at the center of it all, taller than ever this year, a ridiculous but endearing sight with its glittering ornaments swaying in the salty breeze. Palm fronds ring the square; their trunks wrapped in twinkling lights that shimmer gold and green. The air hums with carols from the localhigh school band—just slightly out of tune—and laughter rises from clusters of people bundled in light sweaters and Santa hats.
Rows of booths line the square, each one decked out with garlands and painted wooden signs. The smell alone could make a person swoon. Roasted chestnuts, cinnamon sugar, buttery pastries, and cocoa so rich it perfumes the air. Vendors hawk peppermint sticks and gingerbread, and I can’t help but smile when I pass the cider stand. It’s my favorite drink this time of year. I start looking forward to my first mugful starting in August.
In years past, Sterling’s had a booth as well. We sold gingerbread men, sugar cookies shaped like snowflakes, and our special Stillwater twist—palm trees strung with icing lights, and seashells glazed red and green.
This year, I decided against it. Between the reopening and… well, everything else, I didn’t want to overextend myself. Still, the thought of doing it again someday stirs something soft and hopeful in my chest.
I buy a steaming cup of cider and let the warmth seep into my hands as I wander the square. Kids chase each other through fake “snow” bubbles pumped out by a machine. Someone’s set up a cornhole game with candy-cane painted boards, and a group of teenagers cheer as a beanbag lands squarely in the hole. Near the gazebo, a trio of older ladies in matching sequined sweaters lead a raucous round of “Name That Christmas Tune,” their laughter carrying across the square.
When I finally spot Nora and Nash sitting on a bench near the darkened tree, I wave, my heart lifting. The sight of them—Nora’s red scarf bright against her pale sweater, Nash’s legs swinging as he sips cocoa—feels like everything good about this season distilled into one small, perfect moment. I hurry over and plop down beside my sister, my cider sloshing, and breathe in the scent of cinnamon, salt air, and family.
She drops her head onto my shoulder. “You sure did a good job today, Vi. I’m really proud of you.”
Nash slides over and climbs into my lap. “Yeah, me too. I’m really proud of you too, Aunt Vi.”
“That just means the world to me.” I press a kiss into his hair before I turn to Nora. “Is Robbie here?”
“Oh, yeah. He just ran off to get something to eat for Monster Man over here.”
Nash perks up, lifting his arms and growling as he jumps into his mother’s lap.
“Monster Man! Monster Man!” he calls, while his mother laughs and holds him tight, alternating between feigning terror and attacking the boy with kisses.
I watch the tender moment, wondering if I’ll ever have something like that. I always assumed I’d have a family… when Simon was around.
After he broke up with me, I never really gave up on the idea of a family. It became nebulous rather than certain but still felt like something I could look forward to someday. The older I get without meeting Mr. Worthy of Forever, the less I’m sure a family is in my future.
Wow.
That’s a thought I could have done without.
I stare at the darkened Christmas tree, and it feels like a metaphor for my heart. My life in general, really. Everything is in place with the potential to be beautiful, but the lights… the lights are off.
I visibly shake myself. My sister and her family flew in specifically to support me today. No matter what my future holds, I’m not alone. They’ve proven that to me in spades.
It’s time to get over myself and see the good and not the bad.
Movement over Nora’s shoulder catches my attention. Robbie, creeping up to surprise his wife, a bagful of what smellslike sausage sandwiches and fries from Dana’s Diner in one hand. He puts his finger to his lips as he sneaks forward, begging me not to spoil the surprise.
I nod, dumbstruck, because it’s what’s behind him that really has my attention.
A smiling, waving, stupidly handsome Simon Holiday.
4
Simon
