Page 96 of 12 Days of Mistletoe

“Hi, Bill,” I say, a silly grin on my face. The two have thoroughly distracted me from my worries over price tags and dresses I have no business wearing.

“Hello, Bon Bon,” he says, with a quick kiss on my cheek. His khaki pants are cinched tight with a brown belt, and his red plaid shirt is tucked in at the waist. He looks nice, and I’m pretty sure there’s gel slicking his white hair back. That’s new. And most likely for May.

“Bonnie, try one on for us, dear.”

I snatch the red V-neck and head into the dressing room.

Sure, it’s the cheapest of the dresses, but that price tag still frightens me.

I pull out my cell and type out a quick text.

Me: Can I really allow your grandmother to buy me a dress? This place is expensive, Elliot.

Elliot: You can. You should. Has she referred to herself as your fairy grandmother yet?

I smirk. My eyes rove over Elliot’s name—I wish I had a photo of him for my contacts. I write back, pulling in a breath for five and out for seven as I type.

Me: No. Is that coming? I might not be able to resist that. Cinderella’s my favorite.

Elliot: Go with it. I promise it’s okay. I help her with her bank statement every month. So, I know! And sharing this with you makes her happy.

I blow out a breath and throw my shirt over my head once more. I slip into the long-sleeved dress that feels a little like butter. Sure, it’s not my favorite, but I’ve never owned anything this beautiful.

I step from the dressing room, running my hands down the length of the straight skirt.

May beams. “Stand in front of the mirrors,” she says, waving a hand at me. There’s a mere inch between her and Bill on that cozy couch. “It’s better on you than on the rack, that’s for sure.”

Bill grins too. “Very nice, Bon Bon.”

“Spin around,” May says, and I listen as if she were my middle school principal. She sets a hand on Bill’s arm. “I love getting to play fairy grandmother. It’s my favorite.”

I sputter out a laugh and the pair dart their eyes up to me. I cough down a swallow and control myself. Elliot’s timing is too perfect. “I love that,” I tell her. “Cinderellais my favorite fairytale. You’re the best fairy grandmother I could possibly imagine.”

The skin around her eyes wrinkles with her smile. She winks at me. “I really am. Let’s see the next one?”

I nod and return to the dressing room. I pick my phone up from the bench inside this room and send another text to Elliot—I can’t help myself.

Me: She just said it! You’re psychic.

Elliot: Nah. I just know Gran.

I set my phone down, but it pings before I can change.

Elliot: Where’s my picture?

My heart pounds and I gnaw on my bottom lip as if it were a puppy’s rawhide.

Me: What do you mean?

Elliot: She’s made you pick your top three—I know that woman. I want pics.

I swallow and point my phone in the direction of the mirror, standing tall. I snap the picture and peer down at it—with new eyes,Ellioteyes. What will he see?

Hmm… fake smile for one, messy bun for another, but the dress is decent.

I delete the photo and take another—this time with my eyes crossed and my tongue out. Yep. That’s the one. I hit send and wait.

Thirty seconds later I am still waiting. So, I slip dress number one from my body and grab the green spaghetti straps with the full skirt. With the dress halfway on my body, my cell pings. I can’t wait. I’m too impatient. I pick it up and read:

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