Page 9 of Christmas On Anchor Island

Chapter Three

“Movethat paper stocking a little to the left,” Nota told Lauren. “But down one branch.”

Lauren had already moved the stocking three times, just as she had moved every other ornament she’d put on the tree per Grandma’s instructions. Mia had warned her this would happen and to her credit, she hadn’t so much as sighed in frustration.

“The stocking is the last one,” Mia said. “We’ve covered every inch at this point.”

“There’s still another box to go,” her grandmother replied. “What about the snowman Nick made in fourth grade?”

Stepping back from the tree, Lauren tilted her head. “I see a spot for one more, but after that I think Mia is right. These branches won’t hold another thing.”

Nota reluctantly agreed. “The snowman will have to be it then. Lauren, how does yours and Nick’s tree look?”

The chef cut a panicked look Mia’s way. “Um… Nick and I aren’t putting up a tree.”

The older woman gasped. “What do you mean? How can you not have a tree?”

“We just didn’t see the point since neither of us is home much. We’re both working over the holiday, and Christmas morning we’ll be here.”

This response did not appease the senior citizen. “That’s no excuse. How can it feel like the holiday without a tree to go with the other decorations?”

Lauren paled and Mia knew a tree wasn’t the only thing they were skipping.

“Not everyone has to have a tree, Grandma. Like she said, they’re never home. Both of the restaurants have trees, right?” She gave Lauren a lie-if-you-have-to look.

“Oh, yes. The one at Pilar’s is gorgeous with fun kitchen-related ornaments. Pots and pans and utensils. The one at Dempsey’s is covered in little festive crabs.” Her face scrunched in distaste. “I’m told that’s a long-standing tradition.”

Grandma’s expression matched Lauren’s. “The crabs are bad enough, but the string of hot sauce lights are beyond wrong.” She slid the lid back on the full box of ornaments. “Speaking of Pilar’s, what’s on the menu for the dinner on Saturday?”

Will and Randy Navarro were hosting a large Christmas Day gathering at the restaurant for family and friends. As the head chef, Lauren was in charge of the menu.

The chef’s eyes lit up. “I’m so excited for you to see the beautiful hard cider lamb chops, as well as a gorgeous loin in Parmesan risotto. There’s even oxtail and a hearty Italian vegetable stew. Will gave me an unlimited budget so I went for it.”

“I used to make hard cider lamb chops,” Grandma said with a soft smile.

“That’s what I heard. I doubt mine will be as good as yours, but Nick has given me lots of tips so I’ll hopefully get close.”

Pink crept up the older woman’s cheeks as she feigned humility. “Oh, go on. My food was never up to chef levels.”

Her son—Mia’s father—had run an authentic Greek restaurant until the day he’d died much too young. Though Nota would say she barely helped in the kitchen, Joseph Stamatis told anyone who would listen that she’d taught him everything he knew.

“Nick says otherwise.” Lauren hung the snowman between a glittering gold ball and a glass Greek flag. “We’re serving family style so once everything is out, the staff will get to join the party. I’ve never seen that happen, but Will insisted.”

“Sounds like something Will would do.” Mia packed the ornaments into the red storage tote and said, “Are you bringing Olaf, Grandma?”

Olaf Holgenschmidt was Grandma’s unofficial life companion. She’d still claimed they were just friends as recently as last month, but when the sweet furniture maker had a mishap in his workshop that sent him to the emergency room two weeks ago, she’d rushed to his side and had insisted that he stay in bed for three days after returning home. An unnecessary requirement since the injury was a minor cut on his left thumb, but Olaf had obeyed her every order.

Mia was convinced that he’d enjoyed having her dote over him.

“No, his daughter will be in town. What about you, Mia?” Grandma said. “You should bring someone. What about Jeremy?”

Jeremy Butler was the hospital administrator at Edwards Medical Center. He was attractive, a few years older than Mia, and had become the central focus of Nota’s machinations to get her granddaughter married off. Unfortunately, instead of discouraging her not-so-subtle suggestions that he and Mia should go out, the man had shown clear interest in doing just that.

“I’m not asking Jeremy,” Mia said with finality. Letting Nota believe she was straight was one thing. Playing with someone else’s emotions to maintain her secret was another.

“Why not?” Grandma asked, refusing to give up. “He’s a lovely boy and one of the few eligible bachelors on this island. You aren’t getting any younger, you know. Besides, you’ll be the only single person there.”

“No, she won’t,” Lauren cut in. “Henri will be there.”

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