Right. Coffee. And questions, even though I don’t want coffee now that I’m thinking about bodily fluids. But I need to practice my skills. “Let’s do it.” I nod toward the counter here in the atrium of the hospital. “I’m guessing you come here often?”
That’s a question. Points for me.
“More times than I can count,” she says, and hey, points for her. No gross medical talk this time.
There’s no line, so we march straight to the register.
“What coffee drink do you get?” I ask. See? Another question.
“Black, to keep me up.” She smiles. “How am I doing at not talking about medical stuff now?”
“Awesome,” I say, then we order and take our black coffees to a black table, sitting down in uncomfortable orange plastic chairs.
She sets down two phones on the table. “I’m on a break, but if someone comes in with an eggnog allergy, they’ll be calling me.”
“Is that a thing?” See. Another question.
“Yes, some people are allergic to eggs or alcohol.”
“And they get a reaction from drinking eggnog?”
“Or doing other things with eggnog,” she says, nonchalant as she takes a sip. “Using it in other ways. Dipping body parts in it. And putting it in places.”
I’m dying to ask what places but that might not help her cause. Also I think I know which places and parts. Best to move on. Ask a question. I’m about to inquire how long she’s been living in San Francisco when one of her phones rattles. In a flash, she answers it. “Doctor McGee.”
There’s a ten-second pause. “Be right there.”
She ends the call with a tiny frown. “I’m sorry. Let’s do this again. I have to get back to work. Stat. You wouldn’t believe where some people put candy canes. And gingerbread men. I’m not even going to tell you about the frozen fruitcake.”
She pushes back, and fuck that. She can’t leave me hanging. “Tell me about the frozen fruitcake!”
She’s heading off already, but she smacks a palm against her butt.
Holy shit.
I knew I didn’t like fruitcake for a reason.
20
BAKING SPIRITS BRIGHT
ISLA
The air is crisper here as I near Evergreen Falls. The trees are taller, rising high into the blue winter sky as I cruise along the highway on Friday morning after a few hours of early driving. I pass a red wooden sign with the wordsWelcome to Evergreen Fallspainted in white. A red-and-green garland illustration curls around the border of the sign, and it feels like a hug. A familiar, cozy warmth envelops me.
Home.
This is where I grew up. This is where I fell in love with Christmas and everything it means—family, love, joy.
I flick on my blinker and exit, leaving the city far behind me. The last few days there have been busy, with Friendsmas, and then with wrapping up other business I needed to tend to in person. I met with Emily to talk about next steps with the restaurant owner, since their date was, in her words,magic.
Exactly what I hope my clients will say. I connectedwith other clients, too, and oversaw a fun wine-and-sip speed dating–style event that led to some second dates.
My fingers are crossed. I even chatted with Doctor Katie this morning. She said shemightneed a little more practice and there wasn’t any chemistry for her with Rowan.
I’ll stay in touch with them from Evergreen Falls, but mostly I can focus on my biggest, most ornery project while I’m here, nestled in the snow-capped mountains, with the endless rows of evergreen trees calling me home for the holidays.
Getting Rowan ready for the dates I’m scheduling for him in Evergreen Falls is a top priority. But I’m hopeful. Like I told him, there’s no shortage of people who want to date pro athletes. The key is finding matches who are in it for the right reason. But that’s what I do. And now I just need to iron out the details for the dates I’ll be setting up for him.
