Page 26 of Second Chance Christmas

This year might push her over to a whole new limit.

She flung open all the cabinets and stood back.

Maybe she had been too hasty with Aspen. Suddenly she wished more now than ever she’d taken him up on his offer to drive her into town. He could have served as a buffer between her and all the old faces she was sure to see. They would want to chat and catch up when she needed every minute available to work.

“Yeah right,” she scoffed. “You just want to get another whiff of his cologne again and have another chance at him asking you to dinner.”

She placed her mug on the counter. Unless she wanted to test how long she could survive on dark chocolate icing, a trip to town was inevitable.

Ivy had never learned how to play hooky or back out of giving her word. She might as well have signed a contract. She turned and leaned against the counter in a huff. Cold, hungry, and she had to admit more than a little tired.

“Well, Ivy, you can gripe and mope or freeze and starve?”

She gave the chocolate a long side-eye look and pursed her lips. There was another option. Huddle in her bed with the chocolate and sulk.

She would have to slog off her wet clothes, into what she had no clue, and go grocery shopping. And inevitably run into people filled with lots of questions. Maybe it would be fun.

She pushed off from the counter. Her family was right. Their gran had lost her marbles.

She hated Christmas. All holidays. Scratch them off the list, mark them from the calendar. She never wanted to see another turkey or set of Christmas lights again.

Her cell rang and she plucked it up from the counter. “Gran! I can’t do Christmas this year!”

Or any year. Nothing could make her want to decorate another tree or baste another turkey.

“Sorry, sugar. Hate to disappoint and what’s so bad about Christmas? Thought you loved all the fancy lights and sparkly decorations. And why would you think Gran is calling? Isn’t she with you?”

Those were all very good questions. “Jon. The next time I see you, remind me to wring your freaking neck. And our siblings’. You all deserve to have every single one of my ten digits wrapped around your necks.”

“Whoa there, little sis. Murder is frowned upon in the modern days. Your Wild West show is a few decades too late.”

She swallowed hard and with it, her wrath. A heavy sigh released a bit of her anger as she tried to control her breathing so she wouldn’t pass out, but those blinky white lights across her vision refused to fade despite her best efforts. “If this was the Wild West I would be a single child by now. You won’t believe what our dear sweet little Gran did this time.” The grandfather clock nestled in the corner of the large gathering room chimed ten times.

“Try me.”

Ivy gave her brother the rundown, fell into a plush rocking chair by the fire and stared into the dancing flames.

“Now that Gran bailed on her own Christmas gig, I’m stuck here and I haven’t heard from my hopefully new employers yet.”

“Are you over your pity party yet?”

“Harsh much?”

“You grew up running that place. We all did in some way. You can do this with your hands behind your back. And it is Christmas, right? The season of miracles? Or do I have it all wrong all these years? Being in Dixen can’t be all that bad. You need some time to yourself. Figure out what you really want to do. This is your chance.” His tone, the familiar older-brother-knows-best tone grated on her nerves as much as it made her want to tell him everything. Infuriating, really.

A couple of seconds passed before she answered. “Gran said something similar. And miracles? Where were the miracles when my house was on fire? I don’t know. Do you think maybe Christmas miracles are for children? Seems irresponsible holding out hope everything will work out on its own. It’s just that I can’t fix my life from here, Jon.”

What she didn’t say was that she couldn’t do it this close to Aspen.

A wave of fiery tears stung the backs of her eyes as she fought them off with her thumb and forefinger pressed into the bridge of her nose.

“This coming from a woman with Neve as her middle name. Such little faith. Miracles, faith, fate, whatever you want to call it…no one is too old to believe.”

“Like you, for example. You’ve worked through every holiday since…” Ivy cut off, not wanting to dredge up the past and stick her foot in her mouth.

“It’s okay. You can say it. Since I lost Heather.”

“I’m sorry.” Now she really wanted to smack her forehead with how insensitive she’d been. Heather was her brother’s wife and her best friend. They’d both loved winter and when Heather had insisted on a Christmas wedding, the whole Winters family did everything possible to make it happen. It had been spectacular. For their one-year anniversary, Jon had gifted Heather with her dream vacation with a trip to the Alps. No one was prepared for the tragedy that struck. Heather died in a freak skiing accident after a blow to the head in a fall. Now Jon avoided Christmas and it worried her how alone he must feel this time of year.

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