Page 7 of This Christmas

“Oh, gosh. Why didn’t you tell me I look hideous?” She starts frantically rubbing her face.

“Because you don’t. I think you’re beautiful.” I reach over and put my hand on her leg, giving it a squeeze. “My dad is going to love you.”

“I can’t wait to meet him.” She closes the visor and glances at me. “Where should we go to dinner tonight? I looked at a few places, but there’s none with a Michelin star.”

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. I’m not sure a food critic has ever stepped foot in Deer Ridge, let alone one who gave out the coveted star.

“Um . . . I’m not sure what will be open.”

“What do you mean? It’ll be one in the afternoon when we get there.”

“Well, it’s Monday and a lot of places are closed on Mondays.”

Caryn looks at me like I have three heads.

“What?” I laugh, hoping she relaxes a bit.

“Seriously? How are we supposed to eat?”

“We can eat at my dad’s or take him over to Colonie for dinner. All the chains will be open for sure.”

“A chain?” Caryn’s nose scrunches in disgust.

“There’s nothing wrong with chains.” I steer us around a curve and try to keep my irritation at a minimum. It’s not Caryn, it’s her parents. They raised her this way.

“Well, they’re dirty.”

I shake my head and glance at her. “Do you remember when we were at Six and the rat ran across the floor?”

Her eyes widen. “Yes! We haven’t been back.”

“Because the health department shut them down. All restaurants have to follow the same rules. Chains aren’t the only ones who are dirty.”

“Okay,” she says, sighing. “What does your dad like to eat? I’ll look up a place.”

I don’t bother telling her that cell service is spotty and questionable. It’s something she’s going to have to get used to.

“He likes everything, but let’s wait until we get to town. Then you can connect to Wi-Fi.”

Caryn holds her phone up, looking for a signal. “This is bananas.”

“We’re used to it.”

She shakes her head and sets her phone down. “Are you sure your dad will like me?”

“Yes.” I reassure her, although I suspect he’s going to be reserved and standoffish. A piece of him died a little when my mother passed away. I suppose I did as well, and it’s probably the reason I haven’t come back to town. I haven’t been the best son since and I’m honestly not sure how my dad is going to take us showing up. It doesn’t matter how many times I tried to call him, I couldn’t find the words to tell him we’re coming for Christmas.

“Oh, Zane!” Caryn is staring out the window as we drive through town. The recent snowfall makes everything look even more magical. It’s a gloomy day, so thestreetlights are already on, and the garland wrapping around the poles has a decent smattering of snow in strategic places. It looks like someone came along and placed handfuls of powder there to enhance the decorations.

“Why doesn’t New York do this?”

“The stores decorate,” I remind her.

“Yes, but look at the poles and the storefronts. Oh, look . . .” Caryn points at the red truck parked along the side of the road, with its wooden side rail slats. I don’t even need to look at the logo on the side to know the truck belongs to Reindeer Ridge Farm.

My heart twists, or maybe it’s a double tap as my eyes scan the sidewalks for the familiar blonde with piercing green eyes. The last I knew, she moved back to Deer Ridge, but then again, that was years ago and for all I know she’s not here now. Or maybe she will be when it’s closer to Christmas.

With her family.

---