Noella leaves us with a chuckle to finish our hot cocoa.
However, I can’t quite fathom what just happened. An hour ago, I was planning to grab a few hours of sleep before microwaving leftover Chinese food for breakfast, watching Elf on television per tradition, and looking through old photo albums. Now I’ve agreed to spend Christmas with my best friend’s little sister—the woman I truly didn’t have a crush on growing up.
Did not.
Still don’t.
Mostly.
Maybe?
A memory I haven’t thought about in years drops into my mind like Santa through the chimney. “I spent Christmas with your family once. It must’ve been at least fifteen years ago.”
Rebecca’s eyes light up with recognition. “The year the heater broke at your apartment!”
“And your mom insisted we come over.” The memory warms me more than the crackling fire.
“I remember the two of them spent half the day baking and laughing like best friends.”
“Your dad tried to teach me how to carve the ham, and I nearly took off my thumb.”
“Mom made you wear that apron with the reindeer on it.”
“I still have it.”
“You do not.”
“I absolutely do. Your mom gave it to me that night. Said I was part of the family.” I smile at the memory of Mrs. Rivers, her laugh, her kindness, and imagine that she misses Rebecca a ton. “I plan to wear it at the bakery next year.”
“I bet the customers will love it.”
“That was a good Christmas.”
“Christmas with my family is the best,” she says softly, sadly. Then she straightens, determination crossing her features. “Okay. We’re doing this. All of it. Every single activity on this list.”
“Even the caroling?” I ask, sensing she doesn’t want to draw attention to herself.
“Especially the caroling.” She stands up, Pookie still cradled in her arms. “First, I need to take this princess outside before she has an accident on Noella’s green and red carpet.”
“I’ll come with you.”
She looks down at her attire. “And I desperately need to change out of this dress.”
We head outside, and the brisk air hits like a frost wall. Snow falls in thick, steady flakes, painting everything white. The lake in the distance and the evergreen trees look like one of the puzzles my mom used to keep on the table in the den this time of year. She’d turn on Christmas music and we’d pick away every night after dinner—at least, when I wasn’t at hockey practice.
Rebecca tilts her face up to the sky, catching snowflakes on her tongue. “I love snow, winter. This is so not Los Angeles weather. Not even New York.” I take that to mean she has homes in both places.
“Even for this part of Nevada, a storm this severe is rare.”
She turns to me, cheeks pink from the cold. “Sometimes I just want to escape to the mountains like this.”
“Merry mission accomplished,” I say, echoing Noella’s words.
Rebecca sets Pookie down, and the dog immediately tries to climb back up her legs. “Come on, Pooks. You can do it.”
“I imagine you can escape for a weekend anywhere you’d like—I hear there are mountains on every continent.”
She chuckles and then goes quiet for a moment, watching Pookie reluctantly venture into the snow. “I mean, sometimes I want to escape permanently. Live a quiet life. Bake pies, knit scarves, see the seasons change.”
