“If you don’t, I’ll get out my wooden spoon!” Bab threatened. “There is no arguing at the bistro.”
Toby looked scared. I had to bite back a laugh.
“Be there tomorrow before sunrise,” Bab instructed.
I started to say I had chores on the farm, but Mom squinted.
“Yes, ma’am,” I replied instead. “Thank you for letting us use your kitchen.”
“We’re very sorry about the gazebo,” Toby lamented.
Bab chuckled. “You boys always were rambunctious.”
“Clean this up,” Mom commanded.
“And do not get in the way of anyone’s Christmas joy.” Gail followed up.
“You boys really stepped in it this time.”
I glanced up at the new voice, seeing George, Toby’s dad, stepping into the foray.
He was wearing a Christmas sweater with a reindeer on the front and was carrying a hot chocolate in his gloved hand. He looked a lot like Toby but older, his hair mostly white and green-framed glasses sitting on his nose. He was a bit stockier than Toby in size, but I knew if Toby had someone cooking for him regularly like George did, he’d probably be the same.
Who’s to say he doesn’t?The thought stuck in my throat like a wad of chewed gum that had baked in the snow.
“Guess this means I’ll be back at the clinic tomorrow so Toby can bake.” George went on like I wasn’t asphyxiating on my own regret.
“No, you will not.” Gail confirmed. “Toby can do the gingerbread before the clinic opens and then after work if needed.”
“Yeah, Dad,” Toby interjected. “I promised you some time off, and you’ll get it.”
I frowned, thinking of the long hours he was going to have to put in.
“It’s settled,” the mayor declared as if he thought he was in charge. “Brett, give me a hand securing the mistletoe.” He went on. “Mr. Thomas, I would be honored if you also gave us a hand.”
“Certainly.” George agreed, and the three men moved off to finish the town tradition.
And then it was just me and Toby standing in the center of gingerbread rubble as the town cheered for the mistletoe that was finally in its rightful place.
“Guess we’re stuck with each other until this thing is remade,” he said, bending down pick up a few pieces to toss in a nearby trash bin.
Everyone always claimed that mistletoe was a symbol of unyielding love, but to me, it had always been a harbinger of misfortune.
11
Toby
There was waking up early,and then there was what I was doing: dragging myself out of a toasty bed in the middle of the night. In below-freezing temperatures. Not even the twinkle and glow of Christmas lights could soften the way frost nipped at my fingers and chased my heels the entire way to Bab’s Bistro.
The sun wasn’t even a hint in the blue-black sky as snow drifted across the streets, dusting everything with ice crystals and making me shiver inside my coat.
The street was empty except for the familiar mint-green Ford parked at the curb. I pulled up behind it and worked up the nerve to get out.
“This is your karma, Toby,” I told myself. “Christmas karma.”
Bitter wind reached for me the second the door was barely cracked. Teeth chattering, I moved as fast as my stiff limbs would allow, racing toward the halo of light coming from the bistro door. My sneaker slid on a patch of ice, but I righted myself and kept going, bell announcing my arrival as I pushed inside.
Warmth blasted my cheeks, and the scent of brewing coffee promised motivation. Reaching up to unwind my scarf, I realized I wasn’t even wearing it, as I’d been half-asleep when I got dressed.
