Page 55 of Home for Christmas in July

“Do you want me to open it for you?” she asks gently.

The question snaps me out of my frozen state. “No, thanks. I’ve got it.”

“Okay.” She reopens her letter and resumes reading.

I exhale and tear the envelope open like I’m a Neanderthal, tossing it on the table. The letter is written on a single page of thick paper in Carol’s familiar looping script. I read it slowly, hearing her voice in my head as I do.

Darling Nick,

If all’s gone according to plan, although I wrote this in August after I entered hospice, you’re reading it in July, and I’m dead. Have been for a while. Oh, that hurts to write, so I can only imagine how much it hurts to live through.

When we learned I was dying, we agreed to leave nothing unsaid. It was important to me that you, Holly, Ivy, and Merry knew my heart and understood how much I love you all before I was gone. The conversations you and I are having now are, strangely, some of my favorites. There’s something crystalizing about knowing you’re dying, I suppose.

I kept one thing from you, though. I’m sorry.

I didn’t think you were ready to hear it then. I hope you are now. When I told you I hoped you’d find a new partner one day, someone to share the rest of your life with, I meant it. But I actually have someone in mind for you: Noelle.

I know both of you better than anyone else on this planet, and I know in my cancerous bones that you’ll be good together. Not better than you and me, because we were pretty dang amazing. But good in a different way, a beautiful way. I could lay out all the reasons you two belong together, but won’t it be more fun to figure it out yourself?

Now if you’ve already met someone, this is awkward. Also, wow, didn’t let the grass grow underfoot, huh? Just kidding. If you have met someone or you think I’m wrong, ignore me. It’s not like I can do anything to convince you. Unless I decide to haunt you, I guess.

Where was I? Oh, right. I know I’m right about you and Noelle. Not because you had a short relationship more than aquarter century ago, but because of the people you both are now. You’re my two favorite humans (who I did not give birth to) and I hate to leave you behind. But if you take care of each other, I’ll feel better about it.

By the way, I tried to talk to Noelle about this and she freaked out. That’s when I got the idea to create a scavenger hunt for her. My hope is she found her way to the truth along with the clues. And I hope you have, too.

You have to live for both of us now, Nick. And I want you to love.

Always yours, that’ll never change,

Carol

P.S.—Please thank Griselda. She did all the legwork for me because I couldn’t exactly run all over town.

I close the letter and try to swallow around the lump in my throat. Across the table, tears run down Noelle’s cheeks.

CHAPTER 23

Noelle

My cheeks are wet. I wipe away my tears with a shaking hand, take a shuddering breath, and read Carol’s letter for a second time.

Noelle, ma belle,

I’m so sorry. Sorry that I’m dead and I can’t tell you this in person. And sorry that I upset you by asking if you have feelings for Nick.

You do, you know. Well, you don’t know, now, when I’m writing this. But maybe by the time you read this, you’ll have clued in. In case you haven’t, allow me to point it out: You and Nick have a connection. This isn’tabout your college romance. Or maybe, in part, it is. But you share more than that. You share ME, you doofus.

Don’t you see that if you’re together, it’s not a betrayal of me or what Nick and I had? It’s the opposite. Through your love for each other, you’ll keep my love and my light alive.

Am I saying that if you don’t get with Mistletoe Mountain’s most eligible widower, really,you’llhave killed me, not the cancer? Yes. No, just kidding. But I am saying that you and Nick belong together. I tried to guide you to this realization through the scavenger hunt. Did it work? And was it fun?

I had fun coming up with the clues for you. It brought back so many memories of so many Christmases in July, of us when we were girls (I’d forgotten all about the letterboxing fad!), of taking my girls to the festivals together. Of so much.

I wish we could have elevenses again. I’d give anything to sit with you in my kitchen, drinking tea, gabbing, and laughing until our sides hurt. But we can’t, and that sucks eggnog.

That’s what your last clue is about. When the ghost of Jacob Marley warns Scrooge that “no space of regret can make amends for one life’s opportunity misused,” you know what he’s saying, right? When you get to the end, Noelle, you don’t want to have regret for chances you didn’t take. Believe me, as much as I hate that I’m dying, I don’t have regrets. I know I used my time on this earth the way I wanted to.

I want you to have this same certainty someday (in the distant, distant future). You used to seize every opportunity, take every chance, and chase every dream. You moved totwodifferent countries, alone. You started a masters’ program in a language you don’t speak! That Noelle would not be scared to open her heart—especially not to someone who will take the care with it that Nick will.

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