Page 21 of Christmas On Anchor Island

Chapter Six

Mia was still sulkingwhen the knock came at her door that evening. Knowing exactly who was on the other side, she considered not answering. And then she remembered he had a key, and she didn’t trust him not to use it.

“I’m not in the mood,” she said after swinging the door open.

“Get in the mood,” Nick said, charging past her.

In another day or two, Mia would feel bad about what she’d said to Lauren. She’d been hurt and fired a hit below the belt. Tonight, she was still mad and didn’t feel like listening to the scolding her brother was about to deliver.

“Do you really feel trapped here?” he said as she closed the door. Not the question she thought he’d start with.

“No, I don’t,” she ground out between clenched teeth.

“Don’t lie to me, Mia. That’s what you said to Lauren.”

“I said a lot of things to Lauren, and she said a lot of things back.” Returning to the couch, she picked up her glass of wine and took a gulp.

“We’ll get to the rest of what you said in a minute.” Nick took the glass from her hand and carried it to the kitchen, where he dumped it down the sink.

“Hey!” She bolted to her feet. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with you?” Nick countered. “Moving to Anchor Island was your idea. I thought you liked it here.”

Mia pulled the hood of her sweatshirt up over her head and slammed her hands into the pocket. “I do like it here. Just sometimes I miss stuff like movie theaters and concerts. We grew up outside New York City. Don’t you ever miss… stuff?”

Nick shook his head. “No, I don’t. If you aren’t happy here, you should have said something.”

“What does happy have to do with anything? Grandma is here. You’re here. This is where I need to be.”

“Says who?”

He could not be serious. “Are you saying you don’t remember why we moved here?”

“To take care of Nota,” he replied. “But she’s getting around better than ever now that Alex has her arthritis under control. If you go, she’ll still have Lauren and me, plus Olaf.”

Mia scoffed. “Two workaholic chefs, and an old man who nearly cut his thumb off recently. That’s so reassuring.”

Leaning on the counter, he stared at her for several seconds. “What’s really going on, Mia? You aren’t the mean type, but you went too far with Lauren today. She said she deserved it, but that still isn’t like you.”

What exactly was like her? Mia Stamatis was the kind one. The quiet one. The one who blended into the background and spoke only when spoken to. She never drew attention to herself. She never said what she was really thinking. Or feeling.

According to Lauren, Mia was a martyr using her grandmother to hide from the world. After the three glasses of wine she’d downed before Nick so rudely poured out the fourth, she’d come to a depressing conclusion.

Lauren was right.

“Do you know how many job offers I’ve had in the last year?” she asked.

His dark brow furrowed. “You do like ten jobs a month around here. I have no idea.”

“Not commissions. Jobs.”

“I don’t know.”

She held up four fingers. “Two in New Jersey, one in Virginia, and one in New York City.”

Nick straightened. “You’ve been applying for jobs?”

“No.” Mia crossed to the kitchen and filled her empty glass. “They all came from people who visited the island, saw my work, then offered me a job.” As she filled the glass, she said, “I turned them all down.”

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