Page 51 of 12 Days of Mistletoe

Mom: Well, this is just awkward.

I ignore the message and go back to our group text.

Three little dots still blink. What does that mean?

I make the decision to come clean and text only Bonnie.

Me: I texted my mom. I told her not to make you spend the whole day with us. She called me grumpy pants.

Bonnie: Okay, the world just became a whole lot clearer.

I blow out the breath I’ve been holding.

Bonnie: You don’t want to go?

I think for a minute. I’m losing a part of my mind spending so much time with Bonnie. It’s only been a couple days and already I’m not sleeping at night.

Me: I’d like to see the farm. But I don’t want my mom taking up your whole day.

Bonnie: I told Autumn I’d make it down before Christmas. I haven’t. She’s my sister’s BFF, not mine. But I’d still like to keep my promise.

I swallow. Another sleepless night… Why not?

Me: Okay, then. Let’s go.

Me: Are you prepared to spend the day with Marlene Eaton?

Bonnie: I think I’ll survive.

I can’t help but smile. Yes, it’s only been two days. Yes, I don’t know her well. But dang it, I feel it in my chest, stomach, and tipsy brain—I like her.

A text pops up in our group chat.

Bonnie: You can take your own car if you need to, Grumpy Pants. You can have all the privacy you need. Marlene and I are picking out a tree today.

TWENTY-FIVE

bonnie

Marlene owns an SUV.A big one. One that can fit herself, her husband, all of her children, and her children’s significant others—including one fake girlfriend and her dog. Not to mention a tree or two can be easily strapped to the top.

It’s a power vehicle. One that says,I am mother, hear me roar.

Or in this case, sing.

We listen to old country Christmas songs the entire way to Love, Wyoming, which feels oh-so appropriate and festive. Marlene has taken no less than three dozen photos and we are still inside the vehicle. It’s a lot—and in a small way, it reminds me of my own family. My mom isn’t over the top with pictures and events like Marlene, but she loves her girls. Meg and I have been her whole life most of her life. And now that we’ve moved out, Dad spends his retired days convincing her to go and do all the fun things. I still can’t believe he talked her into going to Georgia for Christmas,but Dad hasn’t spent a Christmas with his own mother in years.

Somehow, between Marlene’s doting, the pair of sisters, and the twangy country Christmas songs, I’m feeling right at home.

David follows his GPS, and when we turn into the tiny town, he glances back at me.

“This is it,” I tell him. “The farm is just a few miles out of town.”

“I’ve never been here,” he says.

“It’s pretty tiny. I’m guessing you never had a reason to until now.”

Elliot and I sit in the middle row with expecting Evelyn between us and sweet Noel at my feet.

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