Page 113 of The Holiday Grump
Grace hadn’t done any crafts, but she’d bought gifts for everyone. I’d told her not to worry about it, but shewouldn’t listen. I understood. She felt like she was imposing. I’d begged her to stay, for my sake. I needed my friend, and I hated the idea of not seeing her for the next eight months. She was the reason I was here in the first place. I had Grace to thank for my life being the way it was right now. Instead of lying to my family and hiding over the holidays, we’d be together, celebrating.
I could tell Grace was warming up to Hideaway Harbor. She loved the coffee at the Sip, whoopie pies from the bakery, and the herbal teas from The Wilde Kettle. Apparently, the specialty blend Astrid made had instantly cured a rash on her hands. I suspected her hands were simply healing on their own now that she’d left her restaurant job and was no longer married to an industrial dishwasher. But she seemed happy and loved exploring the shops, which might have been why our hiding-in-plain-sight plan had been so unsuccessful.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” I told my friend, joining her by the beautiful Christmas tree and giving her a side hug.
She glanced over her shoulder at Fredrik, who was moving toward the door.
“I’ll… check something.” He nodded at the hallway and left.
My stomach twisted. “Does he look really uncomfortable?” I asked Grace.
She looked nonplussed. “Kind of. But he also looks at you like he’s captured a unicorn?—”
“And doesn’t know what to do with it?” I finished for her. “Do you think I’m crazy for even thinking of staying here? I’m supposed to be independent and build a life for myself, not get tangled up with another guy.”
Grace gave me a long, compassionate look. “I don’t know what went down with Spencer. You never really told me. But I got a sense that you were ashamed or scared. I don’t know. All I know is that you didn’t talk about him like people talk about exes. Something was weird about it, like he had this hold over you. And I get that you felt safe on the ship, but you weren’t really moving on. You never wanted to talk about the guys there or meet up after work. You just sat in the cabin with your Kindle.”
“Wait! What do you mean? We worked long hours! You didn’t go out either.”
“I tried to, but you had zero interest in anything, so…”
“I thought you didn’t, either. Ship goggles and all that.”
“I know! It’s terrible. But I always wondered why you didn’t have a crush on anyone. I wondered what that Spencer guy had done to you.”
I closed my eyes, rubbing my forehead as the realization took hold. I hadn’t been open to anything. I hadn’t allowed myself to even look at someone else.
“I’m sorry I was such a lame friend.”
Grace let out a bubbly laugh. “I’m not mad at you! You saved me from a lot of embarrassment. I saw Eric in Bar Harbor last week, and he’s not nearly as cute as I thought he was on the ship! I’m so glad we didn’t go out that one night.”
“But it’s true! I was such a bore. I never did anything with the crew.”
“And look at you now!” Grace smiled, gesturing at the house around us. “That’s the point I was trying to make. You’re different here. Like you were pastel before, and now you’re in full color.”
I bit my lip. “Are you sure it’s not the wardrobe?”
“It’s the whole package,” she assured me. “Someone told me there’s something in the water here, and whatever it is, I want some. Because you guys are disgustingly happy. I mean, your man’s not a people person, but he’s so in love with you it’s a bit sickening.” She made a gagging motion with her fingers and laughed. “Just kidding. I’m jealous.”
The sound of the front door gave us a start, and we held still, hearing multiple voices. I recognized Felicity’s happy chatter and Fredrik’s grunts. His family had arrived right before mine.
“Do I look okay?” I asked Grace, brushing the front of my emerald-green dress. It was the nicest thing I owned.
“Adorable. Go!” She pushed me ahead toward the hallway.
“Noelle!” Fredrik’s mom yelped my name, thrusting two oven dishes into Felicity’s arms so she could hug me.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Kailee rolling her eyes.
“Mrs.… Hagberg,” I said awkwardly, drawing in a lungful of her perfume.
“Call me Stella. And that’s Hans.” She released me and cast a look over her shoulder at her husband, a shorter, stockier version of Fredrik with long strands of gray hair sticking out from under a thick wool hat.
He cleared his throat. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas! Come in. Can I get you a drink?”
Fredrik grabbed my arm. “Relax. You don’t have to…”
