Page 66 of The Christmas Cookie Crush

Unfortunately, Christmas Eve isn’t as busy for me as it appears to be for others. The customers I get are people just here getting a cookie or a pastry to sustain them through the last mad rush of shopping. A lot of booths have big discounts today since it’s the last day for ChristmasFest, and whatever doesn’t sell has to be packed up and taken home. So even beyond the people who waited until the last second to pick up gifts, there are the deal hunters out in force, trying to find something cool for less than normal.

I can’t blame them. If I weren’t tied to Give and Cake and if I were still going to see Nora tomorrow, I’d make a circuit and see if I could find something small and fun for her. I know I’d said the room last night was my Christmas gift to her, but since she got me an actual present, part of me wishes I could reciprocate.

I’d looked at the hat this morning when I was getting ready. I wanted to wear it but couldn’t bring myself to put it on. It’s too soon. Maybe in a month or two I’ll be able to wear it without wanting to cry, but today? I can’t.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Nora

I getthrough Christmas Eve on autopilot, and when the day finally ends, I don’t feel any of the usual swirl of emotions. The end of ChristmasFest is typically bittersweet. The end of long days and cajoling smiles out of crying children is always a relief. But I enjoy working ChristmasFest. It’s fun watching the kids interact with Santa and capturing those sweet moments for families. Most of them are fun to work with. Sure, some are flustered or frustrated, but when you’re dressed as an elf, being silly with their little ones, and offering free candy canes, tempers are more easily soothed.

Yeah, there are always people who are jerks. But they’re definitely not the norm. At least not for me.

But this time, after taking the last set of photos and waving goodbye to the family, I’m fairly numb as I go through the standard routine of putting away the camera equipment for the last time this year.

Mom approaches, rubbing my back when I straighten from the camera case. “How are you, sweetheart?”

I give her my forced smile but lean into the hug she offers. A few stragglers are still making their way out of the space, but since we’re closed, I feel more okay about letting my guard down. I already let Madison go while I finished with the last family, so it’s just me, Mom, and Dad at the North Pole.

“I’ll be okay,” I reassure her. I hadn’t planned to announce the end of my relationship with Austin, but when Dylan made some snotty remark when I got home this morning, it came out.

And it came out loud. “He left last night. I spent the night alone. Are you happy?” I’d shouted at him.

He stared at me like I’d grown a second head, and I’d spun around, grabbed my things, and drove myself here, not waiting for Mom and Dad like normal. I just needed to get away from Dylan. I didn’t need to hear his smug reminders that I’m bad at relationships, that it’s no surprise this ended, that just yesterday I’d told him I was different, yet here I was proving him right.

Because that’s what happened, isn’t it?

I really am just the fuck up everyone sees me as.

I have no plans, no future, and no luck with men. At all.

I’m just the flighty, silly ditz I’ve been my whole life, good grades notwithstanding. My brief tenure as a responsible manager is just a blip, after all. Not the standard routine.

“I’m proud of you,” Mom says, still rubbing my back. “You did a fantastic job as Lead Elf this year. I’m only sorry I couldn’t give you that job earlier. And next year, you’ll probably follow yoursiblings’ footsteps and only come back for a visit since you’ll be done with school and living on your own.”

At her words, I can’t hold back the tears I’ve been holding back all day. I cling to her, sobbing into the velvet of her Mrs. Claus dress while she makes shocked noises at my outburst that quickly turn into soothing nonsense as she holds me and lets me get it out, removing my hat so she can caress my hair like she always did when I was little.

When I regain some control of myself, sniffing and wiping my eyes, she leads me to the bench and has me sit down. “Oh, Nora. I know things feel terrible right now. But you’ll get through it, I promise.”

Shaking my head, I swipe under my eyes again, gratefully accepting the tissue box she snags from the computer counter. “It’s not that. Well, it is that. It’s just”—I throw my hands in the air, a tissue still clutched in one hand—“everything. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t have any plans for after graduation.”

Mom reaches up and caresses my hair again. “Oh, honey. You’re so young. You don’t have to have everything figured out right now. You’re smart and capable. You’ll find your way.”

I snort. “You’re the only one who thinks so.”

She gives me a patented Mom look. “That is categorically untrue.”

“Please, Mom,” I protest. “Be honest. We both know—weallknow—that I’m not known for my persistence or reliability.”

She makes a derisive sound and waves away that observation. “Please. Because you made your siblings cover some shifts whenyou were a teenager? As though they didn’t regularly pull the same kinds of things?”

“Dylan didn’t,” I point out. “And Sarah didn’t.”

Pulling another doubtful face, Mom folds her hands in her lap and leans back. “You’re just too young to remember. Sarah made Ty cover for her on more than one occasion. And he did the same thing back. And Sarah covered forbothof you more times than I can count. You’re just the most recent one because you’re the youngest.” She reaches out and rubs my back again. “And part of it could be my fault. I didn’t expect as much of you as I did your older siblings.” She holds up her hands, palms out. “Not because I didn’t think you could handle it. It’s because you’re my baby. You always seemed younger to me, even at the same age, and sometimes I forgot that you could handle more responsibility because there wasn’t a younger one who couldn’t.” She leans into me and nudges me with her shoulder. “I’m sorry that I made you feel like you were less capable or less trustworthy than your siblings. You’re every bit as capable as they are. You’re smart, and you’re beautiful, and you’re fun to be with. You handled the schedule beautifully. You smoothed interpersonal conflicts between your coworkers, making sure not to schedule certain personalities together if you could help it. You worked your ass off.”

I giggle at Mom’s use of mild profanity. She doesn’t curse often. And usually it only happens when she’s spitting mad, so the casual use ofassin this context is funny.

She smiles. “You’re set to graduate a year early,andyou’ll bemagna cum laude. I’m so proud of you, sweetie. And your dad is too.” She bumps me with her shoulder again. “I’m going to miss getting to work with my kids here.” Inhaling deeply, she looks around ChristmasFest. “It’s going to be strange being herewithout you. For the entire run of ChristmasFest, I’ve had my kids with me.” She refocuses on me. “And now? You’re all grown up.” Tears fill her eyes. “How am I going to do this without my very own elves?”

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