“You know I’m going to come visit you and take a ridiculous number of photos, right?”
I whirl around from where I stand in Quest’s break room and stick my tongue out at Bridget. Since we’re the kind of besties who share pretty much everything that happens in our lives, I’d texted her a mirror selfie while Bree was fitting me for my costume.
She holds her phone up toward me now with said selfie on the screen. A wicked grin overtakes her face.
“All while mocking me mercilessly, right?” I ask, turning back to the kettle and switching it off.
“Um hi, have we met?” Bridget comes up behind me and pokes me in the back. “I’m the Queen of Christmas. If I’d known about Santa’s Village at this time last year, I’d have been down there with my résumé begging for a job.” She sighs wistfully. “You’ll have to tell me everything so I can live vicariously.”
“That’ll be a role reversal.” Without asking if she can stay, I grab a second mug and tea bag and pour two cups.
“Oh come on, my life isn’t worth living vicariously through.”
“No, of course not,” I say, rolling my eyes. God help me, I’m turning into Celia. I’ve always been fairly sarcastic, but in the last few months it’s practically become a second language. I begin ticking items off on my fingers. “Super hot Brit boyfriend. Great job where you make gobs of money.”
“Amazing best friend,” Bridget interrupts. She sits at one of the tables and motions for me to join her. “I’ll admit the super hot Brit boyfriend is totally worth envying, but the job…” She trails off, sighing. “The job is great, but it’s a hell of a lot of work. Long hours, a lot of responsibility. I don’t get to be as creative or work directly with clients. I don’t get to work side by side with you anymore.” She sticks out her bottom lip. The pout is followed by a quick laugh, but her eyes hold a hint of sadness.
“I miss it too.” I almost say‘I miss you’, but she’s here right now and I don’t want to make her feel worse. It’s moments like this when I realize how much I miss being so connected to her and spending most of my free time with her. I don’t envy her job, and I don’t begrudge her spending time with David, because I know they’re the real deal. Lately I’ve had to remind myself that even at twenty-nine, I still have some maturing to do. It’s not always easy, and it comes with growing pains and learning a new normal.
“Anyway,” I say, wanting—needing—to lighten the mood. “You can come by whenever and take as many pics as you want. Honestly, you’ll think you’ve died and gone to heaven. The air smells like pine and cinnamon and peppermint. There are Christmas decorations everywhere, plus lots of places to eat and shop. You’ll love it.”
Bridget’s grin grows as I speak. “It does sound like heaven. It might end up being my new favorite hangout until Christmas.” She sobers suddenly, sitting up straighter. “I’m just worried you’re going to burn out. I know it’s only for a few weeks, but that’s eight hours here and then three and a half hours there, five days a week.”
I cringe. I’ve been trying not to think about the long hours, and comforting myself with the fact Celia will be working Saturdays, which means I’ll have an entire day to myself each week. “It’ll be okay,” I say with an optimism that’s only partially forced. “My workload isn’t too heavy right now. I’m doing a social media campaign for the local hockey team and working on an ad strategy for that new shoe store downtown. Neither of them takes that much brain power.” If anything, I’ve been a bit bored with my job lately. It’s the same thing day in and day out. Working at Santa’s Village might be exactly what I need to add some variety and fun to my life.
“If you’re sure. Because as youknow, there are certain perks to being tight with the boss.” She wiggles her eyebrows. Then, with a forlorn look at the clock over the sink, she drains her tea. “See how things go your first week and we’ll do some readjusting here if we need to. If you find yourself exhausted or crunched for time, you can come in later or leave earlier, depending which works better. We’ll make it work.”
I stand and collect both our mugs, then bend to give Bridget a loud kiss on the cheek. As she laughs, wiping at the moisture I left on her skin, I say, “That, Bridget Higgins, is just one of the many reasons I love you so much.”
