Page 6 of No Time for Traditions

Greg Tucker, her high school nemesis. That guy made her blood boil like no other. And why had he laughed at her? Had he not gotten enough jabs at her in high school?

Brittany wrinkled her nose and twisted the rolled-up paper she still held. She tossed it on the coffee table in front of her and sunk deeper into the leather cushions. Why would her dad hire Greg to look at his land? With him being one of the top foresters in the state, she knew he had connections to someone more competent than Greg. Then again, her parents always liked Greg. He’d played football with Scott. Plus, he was one of those guys who knew how to charm adults. “Yes ma’am” and “No, sir,” coupled with holding doors and chairs for grandmas might have had the elder generations fooled, but Brittany knew the real Greg. The one who teased her for making straight A’s and for refusing to join in on Senior Skip Day.

His looks also worked in his favor. Greg had thick hair and perfect teeth, and Brittany hated herself for noticing. Like every other girl at Hillside High, she’d found Greg handsome. Unlike most girls, however, he’d grown uglier to her with every sarcastic joke that left his lips.

She hated seeing him at her house for two reasons. First, simply because he was Greg. But also, because he looked even more handsome now, despite his being dressed like a homeless deer hunter. And Brittany hated herself for thinking so. She slapped her head as if she could dislodge any images of Greg from her brain, but his dark brown eyes and tanned face were stuck there like post-holiday pounds.

As Brittany scolded herself for admitting Greg looked good, she heard the front door creep open. Was it him again? She pulled the patchwork quilt over her eyes and lay still.

“Brittany, are you asleep, sweetie?”

Brittany jerked back the cover to find her mom standing behind the couch. “No, ma’am, just resting.”

“Okay, well I got everything we need for the cookies you wanted to make. And Daddy should be home anytime.”

“Oh, I need to give him this when he comes.” Brittany picked up the roll of papers and stood.

“Good. That must be from Greg.”

“Yes, Greg Tucker.” Brittany could taste the hate as she spoke his name out loud.

Sarah tilted her head in confusion. “Is everything okay?”

“It is now that Greg left.” Brittany rounded the couch and held out the rolled papers. “Trade?” She received the paper bag from her mom and headed for the kitchen.

“You know, Greg’s matured a lot since you two were in school.”

Brittany rolled her eyes, refusing to turn around and face her mom, but after unloading the last ingredient from the bag, she looked up to see Sarah watching her from across the kitchen.

“What?”

“Nothing, sweetie. Let me put this in the office, and I’ll come help with the cookies.”

Brittany sighed as she watched her mom exit through the archway covered with Christmas cards. She pulled a hair tie from her wrist and secured her hair into a loose bun before opening the pantry. Several aprons hung on the wall, and Brittany chose one that looked like a snowman’s body.

She loved how her mom went above and beyond to make every facet of their home feel festive. One of the bottom cabinets housed an assembly of special serving dishes reserved for this time of year. Brittany moved them around until she found the one she’d used most as a child—a porcelain plate that read “Cookies for Santa” in a playful red font.

“There’s my girl.”

Brittany stood with the plate in hand and turned to her father as he walked under the arched entryway, a few cards brushing the top of his head.

Marty looked back at the cards and shook his head. “Your mama and her decorating.”

“I love that she displays them all, and that people around here still send them.”

“I know you do, sweetheart.” He walked over and hugged her. “And thanks for getting the maps from Greg.”

“Did Mama tell you?”

“No.” Marty leaned back against the countertop and glanced at the lit greenery lining the cabinet tops. “Greg stopped by the office on his way out.”

“Yeah, he mentioned trying to catch you.”

“I told him he should’ve just stayed here. I was about to leave when he came.” Marty reached out and opened the refrigerator.

Brittany’s shoulders tensed. She hoped Greg hadn’t said she was rude to him. But even if he had, she preferred that over him hanging around until her dad got here.

“Daddy?”

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