Page 59 of Waiting for Gilbert

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CORDELIA

STRAIGHT NO CHASER—12 DAYS OF CHRISTMAS

“Ican’t get over these cozy feelings.Christmas Comforts.I need to see this collection in print.” Gilbert stands the cello case on its end and takes a pie from me as I climb out of the driver’s seat of his truck.

“Well get in line, Mister.” I reach for the pie but he lifts it away.

“I got it.” We avoid the iced over side-walk and crunch along the snow in the yard to Aunt Jewels’ front door. “I don’t think I can wait until next fall. Wow. I’m stoked for you. And you finished a day early! We should celebrate or something.”

“We could go to a party.”

“How about tonight?”

“Yes!” I clap my green mittens. “I’ll bring pie.”

“I’ll supply a little music.”

“Whoop-whoop!”

Gilbert nudges my shoulder with his elbow and beams a huge smile when we pause on the porch. “Really though, this is a big deal, Cordelia. I’m super proud of you. Can I preorder copies yet? I need ten sets. Minimum. I’ll plan to hoard them for a few years then sell them off for my retirement. You’ll be rich and famous, and I’ll be the old man in a rocking chair reading about you inTimes Magazine, ‘I knew her when?—’”

“Knowher. Good grief. When I’m rich and famous you can brag that youknowher.”

Aunt Jewels swings open her front door. I squeak and reroute my hand that was stretched forward to knock. The joy emanating from her brightens the night as she ushers us into her home. “Opa! Mazel tov! Feliz Navidad.” She’s sporting forest-green soft overalls with a cream long-sleeved shirt. Her freshly permed white curls sparkle with gold snowflake pins, and her red tennis shoes jingle with each step from bells tied into the laces. A string of red and white felted pom poms loops around her neck.

Gilbert laughs. I laugh because he laughs. I love that he never seems to tamp down his merriment. Aunt Jewels is hilarious, and he doesn’t hide his reaction. The way he appreciates his aunt’s fun outfits makes me wish I was dressed as brightly. I want to be Aunt Jewels when I grow up.

She taps her toes until all the bells dance and then laughs with us. “Get inside, you two. You’re letting out the bought air.”

Once we’re in, her strong arms squeeze me. The hugs from this small-boned woman have made the list of my top three favorite things in the whole wide world. I’m not sure how I made it twenty-eight years without them.

Her hands grasp my face, and my cheeks are squished against my smile. “How are you, hon?”

Before I can give a cordial response I’m choked with the burn that precedes tears.Gah. Why do her simple questions bring out the waterworks in me? She has this way about her that makes me feel like I’m her absolute favorite. But how could I possibly be her favorite? She’s known me for a week. This is only the second time I’ve been in her home. Yet the acceptance is real. She isn’t asking a flippant question. This isn’t, “Hey, think we’ll get more snow tomorrow?” This is, “Cordelia Jane Thompson, favored niece, daughter of my heart, are you okay? Are you thriving? Are you hurting? Are you well?” And I want to tell her everything because sheseesme. If I were to expose my darkest sin in this moment, I know in my soul that she would kiss my forehead and tell me that she loves me—and then she’d do whatever it takes to help me crawl back into the light.

Gilbert clears his throat, and she releases my face. “Cordelia finished her cookbook. I’m taking preorders tonight. Tell all your friends.”

I roll my eyes, but the smile I try so hard to suppress strains my muscles.

“Put me down for two.” Her soft hand pats my face. “We’ll talk soon,” she promises. She greets Gilbert in a similar manner, though she kisses his cheeks instead of squishing them.

“I’ll try not to miss dinner. Would it be possible if I used your office? I need your printer.” He tries to squeeze past her in the entry. This is difficult with his cello between us.

“Oh.” I put a hand on his arm. “You should have said something. I have a printer set up at the cottage.”

“Thanks, Cordelia. I’ll remember that next time.” He flashes a grin that has me chanting to myself that we’re just friends.We’re neighbors and friends and that’s it!My traitorous feelings are trying to build castles on sand.

Aunt Jewels takes the pie dish from his hand and waves him off.

An incoming text vibrates my pocket. I should turn off my phone for the evening because I’m sick of living in two separate worlds. All of the manymanywheel-turning rodents in my mind need to be banished. There’s an especially large wheel hogging way too much space regarding the smidge of regret that I agreed to meet David K. for coffee tomorrow. I wasn’t a complete imbecile though. I timed the date so I can fetch Mark from the airport afterward. This provides a fantastic escape if we don’t connect. Based on our previous few conversations, I have zero excitement regarding his latest message flashing across the screen.

David: I’m looking forward to meeting you tomorrow.

I plop onto the middle of the couch in the unoccupied living room.

Cordelia: Me too.

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