Page 56 of 12 Days of Mistletoe

The whole situation is laughable.

“Elliot?” Mom calls, peeking her head around a blue spruce.

Bonnie bounces on her toes, her brows lifting, asking with one simple look my way,is it time yet?

“Are you two coming?”

“Yes,” I say, giving Bonnie wide—not yet—eyes before dragging her along behind me.

After an hour of browsing the farm, we have three trees strapped to the top of Mom’s SUV.

Autumn brushes her gloved hands together—the woman may be small, but she’s strong. “There’s cider and hot cocoa in the shop, and if you’re hungry the bistro opens for lunch in half an hour. I’ve got my husband helping my sous chef on prep, so I could meet you here, but I better get back to the restaurant.” She gives Bonnie a small wink. “It was very nice to meet you all. Merry Christmas.”

There’s a chorus of thank-yous and Merry Christmas from my family, and then Autumn is gone.

“Should we check out the shop?” Mom asks.

“I’m up for it,” Evelyn says.

We all start toward the barn when Bonnie squeezes my fingers. I feel like I am on the clock. There’s a bomb that needs diffusing and time is ticking down.Kiss the girl now or blow your cover.

Who knew tree farms and kissing could be this urgent?

TWENTY-SEVEN

bonnie

Walkinginto the Linus Tree Farm Christmas shop is like Christmas on steroids. Decorated trees, garlands, ornaments, and a plethora of other red, green, silver, and gold things take up space. We each get a cup of our complimentary cider and walk about the room, taking it all in—the lights, the ornaments, the wreaths, the seven-foot Santa in the corner of the barn. If you aren’t feeling the Christmas spirit yet, this is the place to give it to you.

I warm my hands on my Styrofoam cup and let tangy apple cider wash over my tongue. My fingers still tingle, and I’m not sure if it’s from the cold air or the foreign sensation of Elliot’s hand in mine all afternoon.

How can something feel so foreign and so familiar all at the same time?

Marlene has a small shopping basket draped over one arm and inside are wooden ornaments, one with each of her children’s and spouse’s names painted across the front.

I press my lips tight, smothering a chuckle when I hearher say, “Evie, if you could just choose your child’s name now, I could get their ornament too.”

“Mother,” Evelyn says, her tone more irritable than normal—at least the normal I know. “We don’t even know the gender.”

“That doesn’t matter. Choose one for each and I’ll buy both. You’re going to give me more than one grandchild,” Marlene says as if it’s a fact that Evelyn and Jackson have no say in. “I want to get the baby something here. We’re all getting something.”

“And what happens when we change our mind?” Evelyn sets a hand on her hip, stopping in the middle of rows and rows of what look to be homemade stockings. Do Autumn and her staff make these too? Does Meg’s best friend know how to doeverything?

“Oh, no. No, no, no. Once you choose, there won’t be any switching,” Marlene says. “I’d have the ornament.”

Evelyn groans, one hand on her still-flat stomach.

Elliot’s missing this crazy conversation all to see a train set with Parker and Jackson. I nibble on my bottom lip and peer down, a peacemaker falling right into my line of sight.

“What about this?” I hold up the little red stocking with the green cuff. Stitched in white cursive letters, it reads, Baby’s First Christmas.

“That works,” Evelyn says, looking at her mother. Marlene has to approve, too, or this genius, peacemaking, impromptu plan of mine isn’t going to work out.

Marlene’s cheeks swell and her brown curls bob as she brings her hands to her heart. “That’s perfect, Bonnie. For next year, of course. But I love it.”

I walk the three steps over to her basket and set the little stocking inside, my eyes catching on the top ornament ofher stack. A wooden rocking horse carrying a Santa bag of gifts, and on its little saddle, in pretty, looped letters, is written my name,Bonnie.

My throat clenches and I don’t even know why. It’s just an ornament. It’s something my own mother would buy. And maybe that’s just it. I know how much Mom loves me and Meg.

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