Page 53 of The Holiday Grump
“Eileen said you might need a friend. I don’t have your phone number!”
“I don’t know if it’ll help. I only had a signal briefly this morning when I climbed the hill.”
“Well, just in case.” She thrust her phone at me until I typed it in.
The gesture made my throat tight. I was a visitor in this town. Her brother barely tolerated me. She had no reason to care.
“You put it all back,” she said softly, glancing around.
I nodded. “Fredrik was so upset.”
“You shouldn’t have. He’ll get over it. What did he say?”
“Not much. Just… looked like he was in pain.”
“He is. But that’s no excuse.”
I almost asked about Elora but bit my tongue.
“Do you think it’s okay if I still sleep upstairs? At least tonight?” My voice wobbled.
Her eyes widened. “Did he tell you to leave?”
“No. But if he’s uncomfortable?—”
“He’s fine! I’ll talk to him. Don’t you dare go anywhere, okay? Fredrik’s not the smoothest guy, but he’s hardwired to do the right thing. You need to let him do that. Otherwise, he’ll die of shame and self-loathing.”
I almost laughed. “Guess we can’t let that happen.”
“Exactly!” She packed up her laptop. “I have to run. But I’ll see you Tuesday.”
“Tuesday?”
“Crochet club. Everyone’s expecting you.”
The wish from the bridge echoed in my chest. Maybe home wasn’t a place you decorated. Perhaps it was this feeling. Being known. Being expected.
I spentthe evening curled in the armchair, devouring the book club’s romance novel. I also devoured an eggplant sub I’d bought on the way. It was from Little Italy, the cutest deli I’d discovered hidden in the basement next to the Sip. Fredrik might have been sour, but everything else in this town was delicious. My mood gradually improved, and I didn’t even notice when it got dark outside. At some point, fireworks began popping outside the window, casting a festive glow across Fredrik’s dark floor. It must have been the grand finale of the parade.
When my head started lolling on my shoulders, I got up and fetched the vacuum cleaner, making sure I left no crumbs behind. While I was still in cleaning mode, I decided to vacuum the bedroom as well.
I dragged the bulky appliance upstairs, plugged it in, and turned it on.
And then everything went dark.
The vacuum cleaner powered down with a sad whistle.
Shit.
I must have blown a fuse. The radiator let out a low hiss and a fainttick-tick-ticksound. The heat was evaporating.
Panic clawed my ribs. What now?
After a long and aimless search, I found the fuse box at the end of the hall. It had ancient ceramic fuses and a strip of masking tape with DO NOT TOUCH scrawled on it. Myfingers hovered uselessly. Which fuse was which? What if I shocked myself?
Maybe it wasn’t worth the risk.
I brushed my teeth and climbed into bed, piling all the blankets I had over myself.
