Page 52 of The Holiday Grump
To console myself, I carried the string lights upstairs and strung them above my bed. When I switched them on, the room glowed soft and warm, and for a second, joy returned. Then the light caught on croissant flakes scattered across the floor. I sighed. I’d deal with that later.
First, I needed air.
I buttoned my coat and crossed the snowy town square to the pink door of Love at First Sip. Eileen poured me a dark roast calledThe Heathcliffand gave me a sharp look.
“You chose the tortured hero,” she said. “Do you need to talk?”
“I’m fine.” I forced a smile, holding my watery eyes wide so they wouldn’t spill.
I couldn’t badmouth Fredrik in his own town, no matter how hurt I felt. I’d brought this on myself anyway.
Sensing she’d come over to check on me, I left quickly and climbed Cellular Hill. The climb made my thighs burnand the cold air stung my lungs, but at the top, I was rewarded with a panorama of the inland bay. I counted three ships in the distance, plowing through the freezing water in brilliant sunshine.
A young couple had taken over the gazebo, kissing with more passion than I thought was possible in full winter gear, so I sat on the top step, taking out my phone. The teens paused their make-out session, but stayed, scrolling their phones. Maybe they didn’t have anywhere else to go either.
Signal bars lit up on my phone, and I typed a message to Grace.
Hi Grace!I think I messed things up with my neighbor, the grumpy bookstore owner. I tried to be helpful, but I totally overstepped, and now I feel like the biggest idiot. Wish you were here. Wish we were back at sea, going somewhere warm. —Noelle
I hadn’t toldGrace I was sleeping above the store. She’d been thrilled to find me a job with accommodations, and I didn’t want to sound ungrateful. If it weren’t for her, I would have had nowhere to go. Nowhere but back home, back to Spencer. I shuddered.
When our last cruise had ended early, Grace had scored a job in Portland, working at an Asian restaurant. She’d always been better at spotting opportunities and creating them. She would cold call or drop in with her résumé and can-do attitude and find work. I desperately wanted to belike her, but the idea of dropping in unannounced to sell myself to an employer scared me shitless.
Hang in there!We’ll be in the Caribbean soon. Working on it xxx —Grace
Relief pricked my eyes.
I texted quick reassurances to my mom and Holly, telling them I was fine on the “ship” and sorry to miss Christmas. The lie sat heavy, but I rinsed it down with the last of my coffee and wandered into town.
The Christmas market buzzed on Lobstah Lane. I browsed the handmade soaps, laser-cut town mementos, and knitted scarves, enjoying the atmosphere, then bought some yarn and a hot buttered rum before ducking into the library.
It was quiet there, away from the market. I picked upThe Illustrated History of Hideaway Harborand read about the town’s Puritan roots. Of course, they were obsessed with Christmas. The more you’re told not to celebrate, the harder you go when you can. Maybe that was why I couldn’t resist redecorating Fredrik’s store. I shared my defiant spirit with the founders of this town.
A white-haired man spotted me lingering over the page about the Locke Reserve. “You should go up there,” he urged. “Toss a coin over the Wishing Bridge, see what good it does you.”
“Don’t badmouth the bridge, Barry!” the young librarian scolded, pushing her cart by with a grin. “I wished for mydream job, and here I am!”
Intrigued, I followed their directions to Locke Reserve. The ornate iron bridge arched over a babbling stream, heavy with snow and hung with dozens of padlocks. I crouched down, browsing the names carved on some of the locks. All these couples who’d been so in love…
Elora & Fredrik.
My breath caught. Fredrik wasn’t exactly a common name. Could it be him? Was Elora the wife Felicity had alluded to? How had she died? The questions burned in my mind, but I had to be patient.
The coins at the bottom of the stream glinted in the sun. I threw in one more, fumbling for the right wish. What did I need? Forgiveness? Answers? A new brain?
The coin floated down and hit the pebbled riverbed.
I wish for a place I can decorate to my liking. A place that I can call home.
The words flooded my mind without warning, and I nearly choked on the sudden emotion.
When I returnedto the town square, I was met by another holiday event in progress. Fire trucks sporting Christmas decorations. Dogs and their owners in matching Santa outfits and carols blasting from the main stage by the giant Christmas tree. It looked like a parade of sorts.
I weaved through the bustling crowd, smiling at the excited faces.
When I got to the bookstore, I found Felicity in anarmchair, typing on her laptop. She looked up. “There you are!”
“Were you… looking for me?”
