Page 19 of Peppermint Bark

Focusing on the apple in my hands, I said, “She dumped me before I was supposed to teach a yoga class. Mallory saw my face and took care of me.”

I’d tried to hold it together, but Mal found somebody to cover for my class. She hugged me and said, ‘Quit the bullshit, Gracie, tell me what’s wrong,’

I’d burst into tears and told Mallory how Shannon had been wrong when she thought she would still love me as Grace. And she wasn’t coming back after Christmas, leaving me with two weeks to find a new place to live.

I'd cried, ‘I just want my mom.’

Mallory said softly, ‘I can give you the next best option.’

Alexander didn't fill the silence like most people. He watched my hands turn the apple, the core remaining on the skewer as I slid off the spiraled fruit. I placed it onto a cutting board and used a paring knife to slice it into smaller bites. Slice, slice, slice, watching every glint of the knife through the white flesh.

“Mallory took me to your mom, who fed me Rocky Road ice cream and called Carol about this place,” I used my knife to gesture around the apartment. “And she invited me for Christmas. Mallory suggested I bring pie, knowing your mom would appreciate it.”

That Christmas had been my first time making it alone. Since then, I’d made dozens of them by myself, whenever somebody needed to be thanked. I’d built quite a one-woman pie-making system in my tiny little kitchen.

Wanting to lighten the conversation, I let my voice rise playfully. "I guess the silver lining is when Shannon realized she was bisexual, I did too. Your sister had a field day with that one."

Mallory, who had never been Shannon’s biggest fan, assured me I'd been out of Shannon's league, and I’d find love again when I least expected it … and she'd be my wing-woman to introduce me to every man, woman, and non-binary person she knew — and some she didn't — since she knew how shy I was about dating.

Alexander smirked slightly as he assessed my makeshift assembly line. “How many pies are you making?”

“Three for the cardiology staff, one for Dr. Tran.”

His arms crossed at the cardiologist’s name. “You’re making four pies?”

“Six,” I corrected sheepishly. “Another for the OR team, and if the social workers found out I made pie for cardiology without bringing any to our weekly meeting, they would riot.”

He tilted his head side-to-side, weighing his options. He uncrossed his arms, unbuttoned his cuffs, and rolled up his sleeves. “Seven.”

I tore my eyes away from the perfect veins on his forearms. “Seven what?”

“If you make a seventh pie, one just for me, I’ll slice apples.” He looked critically around my kitchen. “But we can’t do it here.”

Chapter 7

Alex

“We’re going to get in trouble,” she said as I unlocked the door to my aunt and uncle’s house. “I’m going to get arrested, and kicked out of my apartment, and —”

“Even if the police came, which they won’t, I’m family,” I shrugged. She didn’t look convinced as I pushed open the door.

Growing up, this house had been my second home. It had been my grandparents' house where Mom grew up before her sister Carol inherited it. When I needed a break from my whiny sister or couldn’t stay quiet enough for my brother’s migraines, I’d bike over to hop in the pool or play video games or basketball with my four cousins.

My memories of this house bustled with life: kids yelling with squirt guns around the yard, the parents' laughter resounding over endless games of Euchre, and rock music blaring from the teenagers' rooms upstairs. It had been my haven, my definition of how a family should feel: big, loud, and loving.

Our families spent Christmas together, cutting down the biggest fir at the tree farm and trimming it in this two-story foyer. I could almost hear the echoing laughter of my aunt, who renamed herself ‘Christmas Carol’ for December, singing with Mom as they drank mulled wine and draped tinsel. Uncle Terry lifted Mallory to put my grandmother’s angel on the top. All of us kids goofed around, scolded by any parents when we got too rowdy.

Of course, we all grew up eventually. My cousins went to college first, I’d gone to Princeton, Nick off to USC, and Mallory left to travel the world.

Seven years ago, Nick’s acting career took off when he was cast to play the Greek god Apollo in the popular TV drama The Twelve. His stage name, Dominic Martin, had become a household name, not only for his Emmy-award winning performances, but also for his product endorsements, from sports cars to dog food. He even co-owned the Elysian tequila brand … although I wish he’d invested in a whiskey distillery.

When Nick stopped coming home for Christmas, I did too. It hadn’t been intentional, but without him convincing me to catch the same flight east .. I just … stopped. And I guess I wasn't the only one.

Now this giant house was abandoned. A gust of stale air enveloped me and heavy curtains blocked the early afternoon sunlight, lending an eerie quality to the silent space. I flicked on lights, waking up dormant memories.

I dropped the baking supplies onto the kitchen island and meandered into the pantry. Grace’s hot chocolate mix had been sorely lacking in the marshmallow department. I hoped since Uncle Terry built a giant fire pit in the backyard, I could raid their marshmallow stash to replace the tinge of bittersweet nostalgia. I tore open a bag and continued exploring.

I expected stockings with all seven kids’ names over the mantle, but nothing hung in front of the fireplace. I recognized the sofa where we waited in joyful anticipation for Santa, all seven cousins camping out until we couldn’t keep our eyes open.

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