Page 4 of His Candy Cane (Sweet Treats 1)

Again, my mom is way ahead of herself, but I figure it’s easier just to nod and smile.

“Okay,” I say, flipping the card over to scrutinize the fine print. “I see the gym is downtown. That’s great. It looks like it’s only three blocks from where I work, in fact.”

“Mm-hmm!” Lorraine prattles happily. “Like I said, your dad and I did a lot of research already, sweetheart. We don’t want you to have any reason to quit, so the timing and location should be perfect. You’re going to have a great time, and come out refreshed, renewed, and revitalized. Those are the three R’s to any successful life.”

I smile again, trying not to cringe. The go get ‘em motivational cheers that Lorraine and Henry employ are really unneeded, but it’s fine. They’ve already paid for a few months of personal training sessions, so why not use them? Maybe by Christmas, I’ll have shed a few pounds although I highly doubt I’ll be a “new woman” as my mom proclaims. With one last smile, I tuck the card into my pocket.

“Thanks Mom,” I say. “I appreciate it.”

She leans forward and gives me a peck on the cheek.

“Your dad and I love you, Maisie. Knock ‘em dead, tiger!”

Cringing internally, I smile again while reminding myself that my parents were born this way, and just as they can’t change me, I can’t change them. But I can still feel the hard edges of the membership card poking at my skin through the stiff denim of my jeans. What is this Mr. P going to be like? Is he merely a Mr. T, but with a P instead of a T? Will he have a mohawk, chains, and a cut-off denim vest? I’m not looking forward to personal training, but who knows? There’s a first time for everything, and maybe it won’t be so bad.

2

Maisie

“Lionel, I’m leaving!” I call from the front door of the vet’s office. “Can you lock up and shut off the lights when you leave tonight?”

Lionel’s pasty face pops out from around the corner and he gives me a thumbs up.

“Sure thing, Maisie,” he lisps. “Will do.”

Despite his gross appearance, I have to appreciate Lionel as a co-worker because our duties are split pretty well: I handle the cute, fun, and furry animals, whereas Lionel handles the reptiles and amphibians. I don’t love working with lizards, geckos, and the like because their eyes bulge and their skin is clammy. Give me a puppy or a kitten any day, and I wouldn’t trade the little critter for a barrelful of fish.

Plus, Lionel is responsible, which I can appreciate. Before he started, we had a girl named Mylie, who was annoying for two reasons: one, because everyone got our names mixed up, despite the fact that she’s about five inches taller and fifty pounds less than me. Second, because Mylie was flaky. More than once, she left the gecko cages open, only to find them all gone in the morning. There’s no way to catch those slick reptiles once they’ve escaped. They disappeared into the air vents or the sink holes, and that was that. Sayonara.

But now, the day’s over and I’m on my way to CrossFit with Mr. P. I’m not looking forward to it, so I trudge slowly down the sidewalks of Morningdale, despite the fact that I should be speedwalking in order to get there on time. I purposefully hung out later at my workplace in order to put off the inevitable, but unfortunately, there’s only so long a woman can stall. I’m probably about to get the living daylights beat out of me through a series of hard-core exercises, all the while pouring sweat and looking gross. Ugh.

Plus, today I watched a couple of CrossFit videos on my phone at work and it was terrifying. One guy grabbed hold of an iron bar and began doing pull-ups like he couldn’t get enough of them. It was literally up-down-up-down so fast that I could hardly breathe. Then, he let go of the pull-up bar and immediately launched into fifty push-ups at lightspeed, before bouncing to his feet and running three laps just for fun.

Who does that? Why would anyone subject themselves to this kind of punishment? If I were doing a workout like that, I would undoubtedly vomit from the exertion, and then keel over, dead-tired. I can’t even do one pull-up now, much less a series of them, so what’s the point in even trying?

But I have to go through this because my parents have already pre-paid for the personal training sessions, and there’s no point in wasting their money. Besides, it’s a well-meaning birthday gift, so I might as well make the most of it.

Ah-ha. Here it is. I slow to a stop in front of a door with a small sign on it that says “Mr. P’s CrossFit.” Ugh. Slowly, I push it open, revealing a small, empty reception area.

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