Page 7 of Single Mom's Christmas Wish

My best friend of almost twenty years offers a pacifying shrug. “I told her we’d ask you first. I tend to let the kids nibble on the weekends. But you’re the mom.”

“It’s okay,” I reply and give Chelsea a soft squeeze on the shoulder. “I’ve had quite the night, so you know what? Let’s have a little sweet something.”

“Yay!”

“Okay, what do you want?” I ask.

She thinks about it for a moment, and I can’t help but notice how adorable she looks in her pale blue jammies with white dolphins on the shirt’s chest pocket and tiny toes wiggling on the soft carpet. “Chocolate chip cookies!” Maisie declares.

“Chocolate chip cookies it is, then,” I agree.

She bolts into the kitchen while I take my shoes off and leave my purse in the foyer. Chelsea watches Maisie go, smiling before she decides to follow.

“How many kids do you have during the weekdays?” I ask as I stop by the bathroom first to wash my hands.

“With Maisie, nine,” Chelsea replies from the kitchen. I can hear them fumbling through the cabinets, taking out everything needed to make the cookies. “I’m expecting a couple more as soon as the school year starts up again.”

“You’ve done amazing for yourself,” I say, joining them in the kitchen.

Maisie takes her seat in the chair at the counter island, ready to give a helping hand, while Chelsea lays the ingredients out in order. “Dakota, you’re almost out of the woods now, and it’sgoing to be okay. It was easier for me because I never left San Francisco. I stayed and turned my parents’ house into a daycare, making a name for myself here.”

“Whereas I took out a mortgage on my grandma’s house so I could move to Los Angeles with Keith,” I mutter, watching Maisie as she counts the eggs in the carton. “We need three eggs, baby.” I pause and look at Chelsea, knowing my daughter can count out the eggs for this prep stage of baking. “And what did that get me? A divorce, crippling debt, and my career prospects gone down the drain.”

“It can’t be that bad,” Chelsea replies. “You had an extra gig tonight, right? The community center has a decent amount of funds allocated for this kind of stuff.”

“And I can’t thank you enough for arranging that for me. But the bank won’t wait forever. I’m way overdue, and these bartending gigs are barely enough to cover half of the payment without coming home to an empty fridge. The CPR training is extra cash, but it’s nowhere near enough to cover everything.”

“I know it’s not easy, but you’ve got this. And you have my full support. Listen, let’s skip the friendly discount already. Let me look after Maisie for free. You can make it up to me when you get back on your feet.”

I shake my head. “No, this is my responsibility. I pay you peanuts as it is. Come on, Chelsea, I’m not an idiot. I see how hard you’re working.”

“And your Grandma Katherine hasn’t even reached out, huh?”

My blood runs cold. It’s been almost six years, but I can still remember the moment with startling clarity. “She’s not interested in me or Maisie,” I mutter.

Maisie gets busy measuring the brown sugar. She likes to pack it down. For a five-year-old, she is exceptionally intelligent, her hands working smoothly on processes that are usually a safer bet for older kids. “She made that very clear at Grandma Sally’s funeral.”

“I’m sorry,” Chelsea sighs.

My father, God rest his soul, left his family behind to start a new life in San Francisco. I didn’t know he’d also left a daughter in the process.

“I had no idea he had another daughter, yet she blames me. How are his choices my fault?”

“Callie, right?”

“Yeah. She hates my guts.”

“Hey, you said it yourself; it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t even know she existed until Sally passed away. It was super weird of her to show up at the funeral.”

I nod slowly, getting a large, stainless-steel bowl ready while Maisie starts handing over some of the ingredients. “Here, Mommy. Start with the flour.”

“Thank you,” I reply, my hands moving on automatic pilot while my mind stays anchored in the conversation with Chelsea. “Grandma Sally knew about them. My mom also knew. They all knew, but they never told me anything.”

“You saw what Katherine is like,” Chelsea says. “It’s obvious that there’s some ugly family history there. Your dad probably thought you were better off growing up knowing only your mom’s side of the family.”

“It would’ve been nice to know, though. Callie grew up probably feeling abandoned by her own father. Who leaves a daughter behind like that?” I roll my eyes. “Oh, wait.”

“Hey, two completely different people,” my friend says, but the truth is, we don’t really know.

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