Page 44 of Stuck in Christmas

“Joe—”

He paused, looking back at me. “Yes?”

“Thank you. For everything.”

“My pleasure, dear. Now go.” With that, he shut the door behind him.

I only hesitated a moment before taking hisadvice and hopping in a hot shower. He was right. It did make me feel better, and I likely stayed there much longer than a woman with only one day left to live had any right to stay. But it was my farewell tour, and I’d spend as much time in the shower as I wanted.

Which was about two seconds longer than it took for my fingers to begin pruning. I slowly got out of the shower, wrapped my wet hair in a towel, and put the bathrobe back on. When I entered the bedroom, my eyes landed on my laptop, bright and open to thePositively New Orleanswebsite.

Finally. Internet access!

I approached, my heart racing as I glanced at the screen. I clicked on the Top 10 stories. To my astonishment, theywereall my stories. I leaned in, staring closer at the likes—they numbered in the tens of thousands. Then there were the comments. I clicked on one story, then another, each click opening hundreds of comments from readers who loved the story and wanted more just like them.

That is precisely what a particular chef told me recently.

I glanced over at my bed-turned-murder board. The wordsheart,100%, andback each other upjumped out at me, igniting that spark of creativity in my soul.

I knew what I needed to do next.

I sat down and began typing. My fingers flew over the keys. This was my moment, and I felt the energy surging through me. If I only had one day left, I better make it matter.

Twenty-Two

I hustled through the chilly air toward Eli’s apartment. Even more Christmas chaos than usual echoed across the town square, but since this chaos was my doing, I guess I needed to get over it.

The blinds were closed on Eli’s apartment windows, and my heart raced. Today was the day I would finally show him how much his work meant to the community. With a deep breath, I stepped forward and knocked on his door.

When Eli opened the door, he looked startled, as if I’d caught him off guard in the middle of something secretive. He stepped outside, closing the door quickly behind him as if to guard whatever lay within.

“What are you doing here?” He glanced nervously behind him. “You can’t be here. I’m working on a Christmas surprise for you.”

I would bet that the Christmas surprise involved a spinning tree, and I couldn’t contain my excitement any longer. “I have a surprise for you. It’s over at Town Hall. Get your coat.”

Eli hesitated, standing like a wall before thedoor. “Okay, give me a second.” He eased back inside, trying to shield whatever project he was working on from my prying eyes.

As we walked closer to Town Hall, the scene unfolded before us—a sea of people lined up along the street, news crews and satellite trucks parked behind them, all buzzing with anticipation.

“What is all this?” Eli asked, bewildered.

“Hopefully, a Christmas miracle for you,” I said, hoping it was better to ask for forgiveness than permission in this situation.

A man wearing the ugliest Christmas sweater on the planet rushed over to us. “Eli. Isn’t this wonderful? The news media from all over the Southeast are here to tell our story.”

“Story?” Eli’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“The story about Toys for Tots,” the man continued.

“Who are all those strangers lined up over there?” Eli asked.

I gestured toward the crowd. “Those are people from surrounding communities, bringing toys and food for needy families.”

“How did they learn about all this?” Eli’s voice was tight.

“Miss Renee wrote a great story about it,” Ugly Christmas Sweater said before darting off. Traitor!

Eli turned to me, a glare in his eyes. “I didn’t ask you to do that.”

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