Page 1 of Decked By The Grumpy Golem
Chapter One
Lucia
Nothingeverchangesinthis town.
I sit in my little red sports car at the end of my parents' driveway, headlights cutting through the December darkness, and wonder what the hell I'm doing here.
The front lawn is peppered with a group of reindeers made of strings of white light, larger-than-life wrapped gifts, and a huge wreath on the front door that catches the light. This is no doubt my mom's handiwork. She always had a soft spot for the holidays.Snow crunches under my tires as I inch forward, and my stomach does this nauseating flip-flop thing that reminds me exactly why I avoid coming home.
I didn't plan this. This morning I was in my New York City apartment, staring at my laptop screen with its cursor blinking mockingly in a sea of blinding white nothingness. My agent's voice still echoes in my head, full of words likedeadline,breach of contract, andcomplete rewrite.
So I did what any rational, successful romance novelist would do when faced with career implosion: I threw some clothes in a bag, grabbed my laptop, and drove seven hours north without telling anyone I was doing so. In short, I ran back home with my proverbial tail between my legs two weeks before Christmas.
Real mature, Lucia.
The front door opens before I can chicken out and drive back to the Big Apple. Mom appears in the golden rectangle of light, and even from here I can see her face cycle through confusion, recognition, and pure joy in about two seconds flat. She jumps up and down and claps her hands, then calls over her shoulder for my father, still somewhere inside the house. It’s like a scene from a Hallmark movie I'm about to step into.
"Lucia!" she shrieks, practically bouncing on her toes, waving in wide circles like I didn’t spot her already. "Ernesto, come quick! Our baby's home!"
I kill the engine and grab my purse, then get out of the car. My entire body is immediately assaulted by the biting cold of Maine, nipping at my nose and making me shiver through my thin designer wool coat. Winters are not particularly warm in New York City, but they have nothing on the pure artic cold of coastal Maine. For a moment, I justbreathe in the cold, pine-scented air of Saltford Bay and I let it reach all the way to that small place inside my mind where home never truly changes face.
This is home. No matter how far I run. No matter how long I stay. Saltford Bay is where I go when I need to feel safe.
There is no time for introspection as I steel myself for the full Condoleeza Reyes experience. She's already halfway down the front steps despite wearing her slippers and a robe over her pajamas, and by the time I get out of the car, her arms are spread wide like she's trying to hug the entire universe.
"Surprise," I say weakly, just before she collides with me in a cloud of her perfume that hits me like a brick wall of nostalgia.
"Oh, honey, I can't believe it! You're here! You're actually here!" She squeezes me so hard I can barely breathe, but God, it feels good. When did I get so desperate for a mom hug?
Dad appears in the doorway, moving slower, his hands shoved deep in his jeans pockets. Even in the dim light, I can see the skeptical tilt of his full head of hair, the way his eyes narrow slightly as he takes in my unexpected arrival.
Dad trudges down the steps after pulling off his own slippers and sliding his feet in those ancient work boots he has that are probably as old as I am.
"This is an unexpected pleasure, Luce," he says when Mom finally releases me. His hug is warm but briefer, and those sharp brown eyes of his don't miss a thing. "I'm not saying I'm not happy to see you, of course."
There's a question buried in there somewhere, but I ignore it. I could never get anything past my dad. I don’t see why today would be any different.
Like I said, nothing ever changes in this town.
"I know I should have called," I say, hefting my overnight bag from the back seat. "I just had some time off and thought I'd surprise you."
"Time off?" Mom claps her hands together. "Oh, that's wonderful! And Daniel? Is he coming later? I should make up the guest room."
"No," I cut her off, probably too quickly. "Daniel and I are not together anymore."
Mom's face falls like a deflated balloon. "Oh, sweetheart. I'm so sorry. I really liked him."
Yeah, well, that makes one of us. On paper, Daniel was the perfect boyfriend. He was perfectly attractive, perfectly nice, perfectly motivated in his job. And perfectly boring. Nine months of dating him felt like watching paint dry in slow motion. But I can't exactly tell my mother that I broke up with him because he didn't make my panties melt when he kissed me.
Some romance writer I am. No happily ever after in sight for Lucia Reyes.
"Things just didn't work out," I say instead, which is true enough.
Dad's still watching me with that steady, probing gaze that makes me feel like a sixteen-year-old girl trying to sneak out to a party. It’s like he can see right through my façade of a fully functional, strong and independent woman to the hot mess underneath.
"Come on, let's get you inside before you freeze to death," Mom says, linking her arm through mine. "I’ll pour you a cup of chamomile, and there's leftover apple pie from the church bake sale."
“I’ll get the rest of your luggage, Luce,” Dad says.
