Page 7 of The Christmas Fix
Sara’s sigh of frustration was Emmy-worthy. “Dad, you treat every conversation like some chance for a life lesson. Can’t you just behumanevery once in a while?”
“I’m your father,” he reminded her. “It’s my job to make sure—”
“Yeah, yeah. That I don’t destroy my future by making bad decisions now,” she parroted his own words back at him with more than a hint of sass. “I get it, but why can’t we talk about other things too?”
“Like what?”
“Like how about this giant hurricane that’s drowning Merry? How are we going to help people and fix stuff? What’s going to happen to the Christmas Festival? Or why haven’t you dated anyone in forever?”
“Geez, kid. I thought we’d wade into real stuff with a talk about favorite cheeses or something.”
“Cheddar. Next,” Sara deadpanned from the floor. She was wearing the ridiculous mermaid scale pajamas he’d gotten her for Christmas the previous year. Mellody, his ex-wife, had helpfully sent him the link suggesting their daughter would love them.
Noah cleared his throat.
In so many ways, Sara was still a little girl. He’d thought he’d been protecting her by keeping her out of storm prep. “Well, there’s going to be flooding. We know that for sure. I’m worried about how much the water will rise overnight. The lower end of town by the park is going to have the most damage, and the fire department contacted everyone there to make sure they know that the old high school will be open as a shelter.”
Sara sat up and slumped against the ottoman.
“Are you worried?” Sara asked, her pretty brown eyes assessing.
He hesitated for a second. “Yeah. Are you?” A gust of wind rattled the front window.
“Yeah.”
“We’re going to be fine—”
“I’m not worried for us. We might have a leaky roof and stuff, but we’re on a hill. I’m worried about April. She lives across from the park. And what about Mrs. Pringle? She’s all alone in a wheelchair. Remember how bad her basement flooded this spring?”
Noah sighed. He’d stopped by Mrs. Pringle’s house on his way home and begged her for a solid ten minutes to let him take her to the high school. He’d even offered up a guest room in his house. At eighty-one, the woman was impossibly stubborn. He’d made sure her name was at the top of the fire department’s welfare checklist for the morning.
“If people are in trouble, Sar, we’ll help. That’s the best thing about Merry. We’re all in this together. We’re going to be okay, and that means we can help everyone else who needs it.”
She weighed his words and stared into the flames of the fireplace behind him.
“Okay. Now, why aren’t you dating?”
“Where is this coming from?”
“Mom’s engaged to Ricky.”
Noah rolled his eyes. He was well aware that his ex-wife was getting remarried. And to be fair, he had no complaints about her choice in husband—besides a grown man still going by the name “Ricky.” He seemed nice enough and certainly treated both Mellody and Sara well. As long as Sara didn’t suddenly start calling Ricky “dad,” Noah planned to have a polite relationship with the man.
“What does your mom being engaged have to do with anything?”
Sara gave a one-shoulder shrug. “I thought maybe you were still like pining over her or something.”
“Did you think we were going to get back together?” he asked, a headache forming between his eyes at the thought of his daughter being disappointed.
“Geez. No. I just think that Mom’s happy now. But you’re not. So why don’t you go find someone who makes you happy?”
“People don’t make other people happy,” Noah pointed out.
“Life lesson,” Sara stabbed her pointer finger at him accusingly.
“Sorry.” Noah hid his smile.
“You never have fun, Dad. I worry about you.”
