Page 17 of The Holiday Grump
“We have a deal. She does my weekly cleaning, and I watch her kid after school. She’s fifteen and mostly sits there and reads, so it’s a pretty good deal.”
“You really don’t like cleaning, huh?”
“Or maybe I don’t care enough.”
I meant it as a lighthearted comment, but she stopped inher tracks, like running into an invisible wall. “Are you depressed?”
I stopped, too, turning to face her. “I don’t think you’re supposed to ask that.”
Color drained from her face. “Oh. Is it too personal?” She squeezed her eyes shut, grimacing. “I’m sorry. I’ve been told I do this. I’m sorry.”
“It’s no big deal,” I said, a bit thrown by her reaction. “I’ve been told I deflect to avoid hard topics. It’s probably a me issue.”
Her face relaxed. “No, it’s definitely a me issue. But thank you for saying that.”
We walked in silence as I searched the corners of my mind for something to say. “According to some studies, probiotics can be as effective, or more effective, than antidepressants.”
Great. More useless trivia.
“Are you taking probiotics for depression?” She peered at me with open curiosity, and I regretted opening my mouth at all.
“I’m saying I’ve read a lot of studies. I?—”
“You collect trivia.” She gave a firm nod and resumed walking.
I had been taking probiotics, just in case, and almost felt like telling her to see what she’d say. I’d never met anyone as guilelessly direct before. I could tell she wasn’ttryingto make me uncomfortable. This wasn’t a power play. She simply spoke without thinking, the words bursting out of her like an uncontrollable sneeze.
Maybe I needed to throw some questions back. To catch her off guard in the same way to see what happened. Wecrossed the square, navigating around the winterized fountain with a giant Christmas tree, passing snow-laden benches and shrubs. I could already see the line outside the bakery. So many people.
“You never told me what you were doing in the bar,” I said, slowing down before we crossed the street and got too close to the crowd. “Why did you put makeup on the cactus?”
She burst out in laughter. “I wasn’t putting makeup on it! I was dusting it!”
“Becausethat’stotally normal?”
We reached Main Street, and she halted there, smiling. “It made sense at the time.”
“You’re not going to tell me?”
“You didn’t tell me why you were reading in there. Not really.”
“What kind of explanation are you after? People read in various locations. It’s pretty mundane.”
She tilted her head, assessing me from head to toe. “No. What you’ve got going on here is not mundane. It’s like a… statement. Like you’re trying to say something.”
I frowned in confusion. “Like what?”
“Like… ‘I played Freaky Friday with my grandson and now I’m an old man trapped in a young man’s body.’”
“Wow. Thanks.”
She slapped her glove over her mouth, eyes wide. “I did it again,” she mumbled. “I’m out of control.” She looked up at me pleadingly. “If it helps, I’m really into the sexy elbow patch look. I think I have a thing for professors, which makes no sense because I dropped out of college.”
I stopped breathing, suddenly feeling both hot and cold.She wasintome? Or… into my jacket? I’d heard plenty of shit about my wardrobe, but no one, and I mean no one, had ever called any part of it sexy. I didn’t go shopping for clothes, and I’d been gifted quite a few items by my grandfather, who positively lit up when I wore them. Elora had hated every single thing. She’d refused to be seen with me until I changed into something contemporary that she’d bought. But she wasn’t here anymore, so I was free to look as outdated as I liked.
Underneath the vintage parka, I was wearing the same 70s blazer as last night, but I’d showered and changed my shirt. It may have still had a day of wear left in it, but I didn’t want to risk smelling bad if she suddenly hugged me again.
“Please don’t make this weird,” she finally said, eyes widening in panic as I simply stared at her, my mouth hanging open.
