I pull my phone from my pocket and message him while I walk to my office.
Archer
Dinner at Phoebe’s on Christmas Eve. She told me to bring you if you’re not busy.
Eric
I knew it. She wants me.
I snort a laugh despite the sudden twinge of jealousy in my chest, making the front desk receptionist, Amanda, shoot me a curious look. I shrug and walk past her to the back hallway. I’m not ready to explain these strange feelings to myself, let alone to my twenty-something receptionist.
Archer
You wish.
Eric
Whatever helps you sleep. What should I bring and what time is dinner?
Archer
Dinner’s at 6. She said we don’t need to bring anything.
Eric
Wine it is.
I was thinking of bringing that too, but now I’m not so sure. Maybe I should bring something a little more family-friendly? Or a little more festive? What do normal families do for Christmas, anyway?
I haven’t had a normal Christmas since I was a kid. Before my grandparents died, we’d have Christmas at their house and it was okay, I guess. I got presents, and we ate food, but I wouldn’t say it was fun. I’m an only child and my parents were both only children, so it’s not like I had a lot of kids to play with. And they didn’t even allow me to play with any of the gifts I received while I was at my grandparents’ house. Both parents and grandparents were afraid I’d lose pieces, and they’d be stepping on them or tripping over them for the rest of the day.
I stop in front of MaeLynn’s desk and wait for her to look up. If anyone can help me figure this out, it’s my kind-hearted, motherly assistant.
“Yes?”
“She invited me to her place for Christmas Eve dinner with her family. What should I bring? My family hasn’t had a normal Christmas in over twenty years, so I’m out of practice.”
Her eyes turn soft. “Aww, honey. I’m sorry.”
I force a smile and shake my head. “Nothing to be sorry for. My parents are my parents.”
She leans forward and gives my arm a quick squeeze. “Okay, let’s get this sorted. Do you know who else is going? That’ll tell us what sort of celebration they’re having.”
“She said her parents would be there. And I’m sure her sister and brother will be, too. Lincoln, of course.” We both smile. “Oh, and she told me to invite Eric.”
“Eric?” She scrunches her face. “Why?”
I shrug. “She said to bring my friend, and the only one she’s met so far is Eric.”
MaeLynn taps her lower lip with a long fingernail. “That sounds like a decent-sized group. But not overly formal. Who’s cooking?”
“Phoebe said she was. She can’t let her sister help with the main meal because she sets off the smoke detector every time she touches the oven. She is letting her be in charge of dessert, though.” I chuckle at the memory of the smoke detector blaring in the middle of her telling me off on their porch. Talk about bad timing.
MaeLynn snickers. “My daughter-in-law is like that. The girl has the best intentions but somehow burns everything she makes. It’s almost like she tries too hard.”
“Phoebe said her sister likes to bake when she’s stressed, but that nothing ever turns out. I doubt the blaring of an alarm helps reduce her stress levels, either. She probably needs a new hobby.”
“Hmmm,” MaeLynn says, her face now in her phone, with her fingers flying over the screen. “What if you brought something like this?” She turns her phone and holds it up for me. “This bakery is offering a package of gourmet pies that you take home and bake yourself. They come in these gorgeous artisan made pie plates that you keep, then later you can recreate the pies using the recipes they give you.” She shows me a picture of hand-painted ceramic pie plates followed by a picture of several beautiful, not to mention delicious-looking, and noticeably unburned, pies. “It’s dessert and a gift.”
