Page 2 of Granny’s Christmas Shifters

I have all the curtains drawn, no tree, and not a single decoration in sight. I select a romance book from one of my floor-to-ceiling shelves, grab some leftovers, and settle in my comfy reading chair.

My landline rings occasionally, but I ignore it. Edna’s relentless. It’s why I chose her as my agent back in the day, but being on the receiving end is a losing battle.

I wake up while it’s still dark out. Knowing I won’t likely fall asleep again, I pour myself a cup of tea and pick up the phone.

You win this round, Edna. You win this round.

“Hello?” My very groggy former agent answers on the third ring. “Gertie? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

I push aside the nagging guilt. “I’m fine, Edna.”

“You’re fine? It’s three o’clock in the morning, Gertrude Keene!”

“It is. And I’ve given your offer some thought.”

“Well?” she demands.

“I’ve written twenty-four books… but I suppose I have one more in me.”

“You do?” Edna lets out a delighted chuckle, the drowsiness instantly dissipating from her voice. “That’s wonderful news, Gertie. And twenty-five does have a nice ring to it.”

“If you say so,” I grumble. But I can’t deny that an old, familiar spark has ignited in me. I’d all but forgotten what it was like to have a sense of purpose, and I briefly wonder why I hadn’t thought to come out of retirement ages ago.

“I’ll book you a flight right away and call you back with the details,” Edna says, jumping into her old role as readily as I do into mine. “And I’ll have a rental car waiting for you at the airport. Do you have a working computer?”

“You very well know I got rid of mine over a decade ago.”

“We can pick one up once you’re ready to start writing. Do you have a preference?”

“A working keyboard with all the important buttons, like Delete.”

Edna chuckles. “Good choice. Now, if there’s anything else you need, anything at all…”

I assure her that I’ll be fine, pack my clothes and all my pills, and take a taxi to the airport. Edna’s booked me in first class, and I greet the plush, spacious leather seat like an old friend. I even order Champagne with my meal for old time’s sake.

When we land, I pick up my rental car and make the snowy thirty-minute drive to the small town where Edna lives.

The Christmas decorations in Ravenwood are festive but modest. A reindeer and a sleigh are partially buried in her snowy yard, and there is a string of lights wrapped around her porch railings.

The house is much smaller than I expected, but it does seem cozy. I ring the doorbell, and I’m pleased that it doesn’t play a Christmas tune. Edna isn’t even wearing red or green—her sweater’s purple—and it feels like no time at all has passed when she pulls me into a warm hug.

“It’s so good to see you, Gertie. Did you have a good flight?”

I assure her that I did, and that everything was up to snuff.

I say hello to Edna’s granddaughters, five-year-old Kaitlyn and seven-year-old Amelia, and then Edna ushers us inside before we catch a cold. Edna’s tree is modest, and I recognize some of the furniture from her sprawling old home. But I suppose if she lives here alone, she no longer needs all that space.

Edna puts on some cartoons for the girls, and the two of us settle in the kitchen with steaming cups of tea.

“When is Michelle coming to get the girls?” I ask, referring to Edna’s only daughter.

Edna’s face falls. “She’s not.”

“Oh no. Edna, I’m so sorry! Why didn’t you tell me?”

Edna shakes her head. “She’s not dead, if that’s what you’re thinking. She dropped off the girls three years ago and skipped town.”

I gasp. “But you haven’t said a thing. Each time I ask, you say she’s doing great.”