Page 8 of Holly, Jolly, and Oh So Naughty

“And?” Amelia sing songs a little. “What did you think?”

“Of Mark?”

“Yes, of Mark!”

“I don’t know.” Setting the towel aside, I stack the containers into my bag. “He seemed alright. Average, I guess.”

“Average is a good place to start.” Amelia grins.

“Amelia. Did you send him to me?”

Her face melts into picture-perfect innocence. “I may have nudged him your way.”

“Amelia!”

“What? I don’t want my best friend to be sad and lonely at Christmas, okay? You deserve to have someone take you out and treat you, y’know? And he’s like the only decent teacher left at the school.”

“If he’s so great, why don’t you take a crack? Because I am not interested.”

“Lily, at least think about it.” She leans in close and her adorable face fills the screen. “Please? You can’t be alone forever.”

“I’m not alone,” I reply as Emma’s thundering steps descend the stairs. “I have Emma and you and my parents and all my friends.”

“None of those people can give you what you really need.”

“Which is?” I side-eye Amelia as Emma comes into the kitchen.

“I can’t say it in polite company,” Amelia grinds out, making me laugh.

“Alright. Emma, say hi and bye to Amelia. We’ve got to go.”

“Hi, bye!” Emma calls, waving her hand at the phone.

“Hi, bye,” Amelia calls back with a smile. “Alright, love ya, Lily.”

“Love you too.”

Pulling up to the Fir Tree Inn is a little like coming home. While I didn’t strictly grow up here, the majority of my childhood and teen years were spent here helping out. Nestled on the edge of the pine forest that sweeps around the town, the Fir Tree Inn is a home for all travelers and tourists. It’s survived all this town’s rising and falling economy and housed hundreds during and after severe snow storms. The hall is often used for parties and gatherings, especially at New Year's, and the inn is as much a fixture of the town as the gigantic marble fir tree statue in the middle of the town with the foundation plaque.

Now, it’s as beautiful as ever with colorful Christmas lights twinkling along the eaves and the first dusting of heavy snow clinging to the roofs. Orange light warms the entryway, and I glimpse my father bustling about inside.

“Ready?” I turn to face Emma, who is holding tightly onto the pasta boxes. She nods quickly and puffs out her cheeks.

“If I don’t eat soon, I’m gonna die!”

“Uh-huh sweetie. Well, let's get inside before that happens.” Affectionately rolling my eyes, I help Emma from the car and we head inside. Immediately, we’re greeted by a welcoming warmth and the scent of the peppermint sticks that sit by the check-in desk.

“Grandpa!”

“Munchkin!” My dad comes hurrying from the back office and throws his arms out wide for a hug. “Look at you all dressed up!”

“She dressed up for youandMom,” I say with a smile as Emma runs into her grandpa’s arms. “And we brought dinner.”

“Oh, honey, you didn’t have to do that!” My mom appears from the side door, wearing dungarees almost identical to the pair Emma wears while wiping grease from her stained fingers. “You know we have a chef.”

“I know, but I like to cook for you both.” I kiss her cheek and help Emma set the boxes on the desk. “Besides, by the time I heat this up, you’ll both have time to get cleaned up and then no one needs to worry about cooking.”

“You do think of everything.” My dad chuckles while gently wrestling with Emma. He tickles her, picks her up, and spins her around, which makes my mom surge forward.

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