Page 23 of Her Christmas Fix
I head straight for the crystals displayed on a wooden table near the window. Riva loves anything woo-woo, so I pick out several for her and a few for myself. Rose quartz for self-love, amethyst for anxiety, citrine for confidence. I don’t know if any of it’s real, but my daughter believes it, and that’s what matters.
“Looking for something specific?”
The woman who appears beside me is younger than her voice suggested. "I'm Eliana, owner of The Water Witch."
"It's such a gorgeous store," I say without offering my name. Baby steps in the trust department. "I'm shopping for my daughter. She’s thirteen and convinced crystals are going to change her life.”
Eliana laughs. “Thirteen’s a hard age. Rose quartz might not fix everything, but it can’t hurt.” She picks up a pale pink stone, turns it in the light. “This one’s good for learning to be gentle with yourself.”
I smile as I take it from her, the stone warm and smooth in my palm. “Apparently, that’s just as big a lesson at thirty-six.”
She explains the significance of each stone I touch. Green aventurine for luck. Citrine for joy. A piece of tiger’s eye that catches the light like Griffin’s eyes do when he smiles at me.
“You’re staying with Griffin,” Eliana says as she wraps each crystal in tissue paper.
The statement doesn’t feel intrusive, but still my face goes hot. “He’s doing the renovations on my house, so it’s just temporary.”
“Mm-hmm.” She doesn’t look up from her careful folding. “He helped me with a project about a year ago. He’s a good man. Been alone too long, it seems.”
“We’re not…it’s not like that. I’m leaving after Christmas.”
Now she does look up, and her eyes are kind but direct. “Are you?”
The question sits between us while she ties a ribbon around the small bundle of crystals. I should say yes. Should remind her—remind myself—that I have a life in California, a career, a daughter who needs me.
But the word won’t come.
I’ve just tapped my credit card when a young woman approaches, phone clutched in her hand.
“I’m so sorry to bother you.” The words come out in a rush. “But could I maybe get a selfie?”
The instinct to say no and protect this moment where I’m just Monika is automatic. But Mary Lou’s words come back to me.We take care of our own.These people gave me somewhere to belong when I needed it most.
“Of course.” The girl’s whole face lights up as I step closer to her.
We take the selfie, both of us smiling. She thanks me three more times before leaving, and Eliana watches me with a knowing expression.
“See?” she says. “You fit here.”
“Merry Christmas,” I say instead of answering directly. I’m not sure I could without revealing how much I want to belong here. How can I when I’m leaving in a few days?
Outside, the sun is dropping toward the horizon, turning everything amber and gold. I load my purchases into the car—the painting for Griffin, the crystals for Riva—and feel good about my little outing. A silly slice of independence, but I’ll take the win where I can get it.
My phone buzzes with a text from Griffin.
Still in Portland. Traffic’s a mess. Be back by eight.
I smile at the screen, then drive toward his cabin. Our cabin, even if only for two more days.
Two more days until everything changes.
But right now, I’m going to pretend we have all the time in the world.
12
GRIFFIN
The scentof cumin and chili powder fills the cabin as I season the ground beef for tacos. It’s a simple dinner, but after the day we’ve had installing the flooring, I’m not trying to impress anyone. Besides, Monika seems to appreciate my cooking more than she should, given that half the time I’m winging it.
