Page 15 of 12 Days of Mistletoe

“Milan.” Gran motions to Mom. “You said that’s where you’re going, correct?”

“Yes. Those two would work, but Jocelyn?—”

“Marriage, of course. That’s the easy one, Marlene.” Gran taps the poster lying on top as if it might magically change with her thoughts.

“Elliot is still the problem,” says Mom, sliding a quick glance my way.

A smothered smirk sounds from Bonnie beside me. She agrees, wholeheartedly, I am the problem.

“Excuse me,” I protest. I didn’t do anything. I’ve been a good son, a good grandson. “I amnota problem.” I am tempted to glare at my mother, but I know better.

“What about Merry?” Jocelyn says. “You know, like happy?”

This answer only gets her another wrinkled nose from Mom.

“No!” Gran’s eyes light up and then narrow. I’ve seen that look before—when she talked Gramps into building her that arched lattice for her garden. “I’ve got it. It’s perfect.” Her eyes scan over my sisters and mother as we all wait for her to speak her brilliance. I’m hoping that brilliance includes something about retiring this awful tradition and leaving poor Elliot alone.

Gran grins as her gaze stops on Bonnie and me. “Mistletoe.”

“Mistletoe?” Bonnie swallows; the gulp is audible.

“That’s perfect,” Mom says with a giggle.

“But is it?” I add. “Merry isn’t bad. I’m happy. Bonnie’s happy. That works.”Or no picture at all would be fine—I don’t actually say that thought out loud. I don’t need all the women in my life upset with me just in time for Christmas.

“Yes.” Bonnie nods emphatically. “What he said.Merry. I vote merry!”

“Mistletoe.” Mom giggles again.

Dang. She is loving this idea. I can see it all over her bright, smiling face.

“So simple. So festive! Mom, you’re a genius.” Mymother kisses Gran’s cheek. “Girls, get working, I’ve got extra poster board in the car.”

My sisters get to it like a Marlene Eaton well-oiled machine, and I am dazed. I was sort of hoping we’d get rid of the poster boards altogether. That we’d ban photo cards for the rest of time. I should have known when Marlene Eaton has a plan it doesn’t go unfinished. I will be doing photo Christmas cards until the day I die because if I don’t, my mother will come back from the grave and haunt me until I put on that red sweater or sit on that old man’s lap or hold that mistletoe poster.

“Should they be kissing?” Mom asks Gran.

“That would make sense,” Gran says, to which Bonnie pinches my side.Hard.

“Nope! Ah, no.” I stumble over every word, but I get them out. I make it known. I am not paying Bonnie enough. “No kissing. We aren’t big fans of PDA. No. Kissing. Photos.” I nod as if putting my foot down, knowing that Mom and Gran will make this decision without me.

Mom rolls her eyes and Gran sighs—they are indeed mother and daughter. And they’ll plan this photoshoot however their motherly hearts desire.

“Maybe just a peck, then,” Mom says.

Bonnie stiffens beside me, then walks right out the common room door.

EIGHT

bonnie

Mr. Tall-Dark-And-Prejudice-Against-Dogs isright on my tail.

“I am not kissing you, E.J. Eaton!” I whisper-yell in the hallway. The only reason I haven’t bolted up the stairs and into my apartment is because I’d still really like that rent money. I’m not abandoning the ship completely yet.

“It’s Elliot,” he says, his warm hand on my wrist. “And I don’t expect you to kiss me.”

“Good.” I stop two feet in front of him and pull my hand from his tingling grasp. “Because that’s not happening.”

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