Page 40 of Santa Loves Curvy Girls

Mom and I found ourselves at Scrooge’s again the day after Christmas.

We had come here for Christmas dinner and hung out with Scrooge and a couple other Christmas regulars. But Scrooge had the best burgers, fries, and milkshakes in town, so I wasn’t upset when Mom had suggested coming here again for supper.

I think she thought that Scrooge was lonely, but I was starting to think that maybe she was kind of lonely too and enjoyed his company.

In one more year, I’d be off to college, and while I didn’t want to go far, I knew it wouldn’t be the same as me living at home. She’d be on her own.

We sat down at the counter, and I picked up the menu even though I knew I would get the same thing I always did—a burger with onion rings.

Right away, Scrooge came over to wipe down the counter next to us and refill the sugar packets. But I think he just wanted to talk to Mom. Or listen to her talk, really.

I noticed how her face lit up as she conversed with him, and for the first time, I noticed Scrooge too. It was like I could sensehis heart growing a size or two. The man wasn’t bad-looking at all, as far as potential guys to date my mom went. And I could tell my mom was trying not to stare.

He was a little rough around the edges, with stubble that covered most of his jaw, and he didn’t like to socialize much, even though he ran the diner. But he had a quiet kindness if he allowed you to get close enough to see it.

Scrooge turned to me. “What’ll you have to drink, Nick?”

“Root beer, please,” I replied.

“And for me too,” Mom said with a smile on her face.

Scrooge nodded in response and turned to get us drinks from the fountain machine. Mom asked him a question about his shirt, wondering if he had gotten it for Christmas. To me it looked the same as what he usually wore.

Figuring Mom might appreciate a few minutes on her own, I excused myself to the bathroom. As I walked past the cash register, I noticed the large display case off to the side. It was full of very familiar-looking cookies.

My lips lifted even though an ache settled in my chest. The sight of them reminded me so much of Belle. I knew it was weird of me to stand there staring at the cookies, so I continued to the restroom.

When I took my seat again a few minutes later, Scrooge was polishing an already sparkling-clean glass and listening to Mom talk about something or other. “I see you got the cookies in already,” I told him at a break in their conversation.

He nodded and kept cleaning the glass in his hand. “Yeah, thanks for the tip. People love ’em.”

“Have you had one?” I asked him, taking a sip of my root beer.

“Yep,” Scrooge said. “They don’t make ’em like that anymore, I’ll tell you that. Reminds me of…” He paused for a moment, then seemed to remember he was talking out loud. “Anyway,I’ve already put in another order.” He finally finished polishing the glass, setting it carefully on the shelf behind him. “That girl should open a bakery or something.”

A few people came in the door, and Scrooge set off to take care of them.

Mom turned to me, picking up her root beer. “Is it me or is Scrooge a little nicer these days?”

“With you,” I teased. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard him say more than one full sentence, until now.” I grinned. “I think he has a crush on you, Mom.”

She nudged me playfully, but I saw the color rising in her cheeks like she was the teenager and not me.

I put my drink down and glanced at the display case. While I wanted to taste one of Belle’s cookies again, I also wished she was the one giving it to me, because that would mean she wasn’t mad at me anymore.

That things weren’t over between us.

Mom nudged me again. This time concern etched her face. “What is it?”

I opened my mouth but didn’t quite know what to say. “It’s nothing, Mom,” I said finally.

“I don’t think it’s nothing,” she said. “I’ve never seen you like this, honey. What is it?”

I sighed. “Belle, the girl who bakes the cookies,” I began but didn’t know how to go on without telling my mom about the Santa suit and the reason why Belle and I broke up.

“I thought there might be a reason you were out of the house so much this last week,” Mom said. “Is there something going on between you two?”

“There was.” I shook my head. “Not anymore.”

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