Page 4 of Saved By Noel
Noel?! A town named for Christmas?! This has to be it.
I immediately call Dawn on speaker as I continue swiping through photos.
She answers mid-ring with a cheerful, “Is it perfect or is it perfect?!”
Chuckling at her enthusiasm, I can’t help but agree. “It does seem perfect. Is that a bad thing? Is it too good to be true?”
“I haven’t seen it in person,” Dawn says, “but all the listing info checks out. The finishes are outdated, but the bones are good. It’s not quite four hours away from KC, and although it’s a small town, there’s a grocery store and coffee shop. All straight from your must-have list. It’s the perfect size for you! Plus, it’s under your budget, so you’d have plenty of money left to make updates.”
My heart rate picks up with every point she places in the “pro” column.This might really be it.
“Not to mention, the town is called Noel.Noel,Clara! You’re the biggest Christmas fanatic I know,” Dawn continues. “If that’s not a sign, I don’t know what is. What do you think?”
“I think . . . I love it,” I say with a happy sigh, and I hear Dawn clapping. “But wait, we were looking in Kansas and Missouri—are you even licensed in Arkansas?”
“Yep,” Dawn replies. “My broker made us all get licensed in Arkansas for precisely this reason. Lots of spillover from southwest Missouri to Northwest Arkansas properties. I can broker the deal for you, no problem. I think if we go in with an all-cash offer, we’d have no issues getting it. You could be moved in before the Christmas festivities! Want me to write it up?”
I mull it over for a moment. I’m usually a frustratingly slow decision maker—just ask anyone behind me in line at a coffee shop, ever. Exactly zero people who know me would place bets on me purchasing a house sight unseen. But thisfeelsright. I pull up the photo of the sunroom again, the golden glow of the sunset casting brilliant warm light through the room.
“Go ahead and draw it up,” I surprise myself by saying. “I’m going to talk about it with my parents at Thursday dinner tomorrow, but have it ready for me to sign. I want that cabin.”
Chapter four
Clara
“Go for it, Care-Bear,” my dad says with enthusiasm.
I’ve just finished showing my parents the photos of the cabin in the woods. I came to Thursday dinner fully expecting a barrage of questions and precautionary sentiments from Mom and Dad. At the very least, I expected them to pump the brakes on such a big decision.
“I agree with your father,” my mom adds as she clears away our dinner plates. I jump up to help, but she waves me back to my seat.
“You don’t think it’s a bad idea, purchasing a property sight unseen?” I ask.
“There will still be an inspection, of course,” my dad replies. “You can always back out if there are major issues uncovered. But the photos look like exactly what you’re hoping to find, and it’s under your budget. Plus, can’t beat that town name!” he finishes with a wide grin. I come from a long line of Christmas lovers—generations of Yuletide fanatics on both sides of the family.
“Not to mention, I’ve never seen you so willing to take action on something thatyoutruly want, Clara,” my mom adds. She pauses to briefly cup my cheek before sitting back down at the table. “It’s not a lifelong decision that can’t be undone. I say seize the moment!”
I take a monster cookie from the platter Mom set on the table. She cooks dinner on Thursdays, but Ialwaysbring dessert. I stayed late at work today and didn’t have time to bake something from scratch. It felt like cheating, but I picked up a cookie box from McLain’s Bakery, one of the many amazing bakeries in the Kansas City metro area. I chew a bite of peanut butter-oatmeal-M&M goodness while I consider my parents’ words.
“It still seems a little . . . I don’t know . . . selfish to spend so much money on something for only me,” I admit.
“Which is precisely why Gloria left the money to you,” my dad says, patting my hand. “She knew as well as we do that you’re always looking out for other people. She wanted you to invest in your dreams. Your mother and I want you to invest in your dreams. It’s not selfish if it’s what we all want for you.”
I take in the familiar dining room of my childhood home. The beige walls and the 90s golden oak trim, the sideboard filled with fancy dishes and covered by framed family photos. There are pictures of the three of us throughout various stages of my childhood. My physical appearance is a perfect blend of my parents’ genetics—my strawberry-blond hair is the same shade as my dad’s, but with my mom’s curls. Dad’s blue eyes stare back through mine, but my smile mirrors Mom’s.
My gaze sweeps to the several photos of me posing with Aunt Gloria, her smile always wide. Hot tears pool in my eyes.I miss her. I think of her letter to me included with the will, the letter I’ve reread so many times I have it memorized.
Dearest Clara, my little Nutcracker,
I know you’re going to huff and puff and try to find your way out of spending this money on yourself. But this is whatIwant. I lived my dream, chased my passion into a fulfilling career. Now I want you to chaseyourdream. Become the writer you’ve always wanted to be. This is my way of being there with you, cheering you on to the stars, even if I won’t get to see you make it in this life. But I’ll still see. Do it for me—but not just for me. Do it foryou.
I love you with everything,
Aunt Gloria
I nod to my parents and send a text to Dawn.
ME
