Page 1 of All I Want for Christmas

CHAPTER ONE

ROSE

“You and Joe are still planning on goin’ tomorrow, aren’t you?” my best friend Neely Kate asked as she turned off her work computer.

A new Christmas tree farm had opened this year, and Neely Kate was dying to go. She’d never cut down a Christmas tree before, and she was sure it was going to be like all the Christmas movies she’d seen, even though we’d driven past Ned’s X-mas Tree Farmpozium multiple times, and nothing about the small pine trees growing in haphazard rows screamed Christmas.

This was Neely Kate’s first Christmas with her new baby, and she was determined to make it the best Christmas ever—even if Daisy was only six months old and had no idea what was going on. But the “best Christmas ever” included not only a live tree but also cutting one down, and she was sure the experience was going to be magical.

Neely Kate had brought the tree-cutting excursion up multiple times, and while my husband Joe would rather put up an artificial tree and be done with it, there was no way he’d disappoint his sister. I didn’t want to disappoint her either.

I was pretty sure Ned’s farm had that handled all on its own.

“It’s too bad Ashley and Mikey can’t come,” Neely Kate said. “I think they’d really love it.”

Joe and I were sharing custody of my deceased sister’s kids with their currently jailed father’s parents. When Violet died, she’d said she wanted me, not her husband, to raise her kids. She’d known he was involved in some shady business, but she hadn’t shared the details. After Mike had been arrested, I’d gotten guardianship, but Mike’s parents were fighting me on it and until Mike or the court decided, we were sharing custody. Last weekend, we’d taken the kids to Little Rock to see Santa and an ice sculpture exhibit, so Mike’s parents had gotten them Thursday evening and had them until Sunday at four p.m.

“I think they are disappointed, actually, but Joe and I told them we’d wait to decorate the tree until Sunday evening when they get home.”

“I hate that Mike’s parents are doing this,” she said with a frown. “And I know Ashley and Mikey hate it too.”

She was right. They hated going to their grandparents’ house. Mike’s parents were of the age that believed kids should be seen and not heard. They didn’t like the kids going outside to play because they got too dirty, and they didn’t let them watch TV. They could play quietly with LEGO and dolls or read. I wanted the kids to have a good experience with their grandparents, so I’d tried talking to them, but my suggestions had been met with open hostility. Joe had convinced me that continuing to plead the kids’ case was only hurting them, so I’d stopped. But I hated seeing them so miserable.

So, I couldn’t disagree with Neely Kate. The current arrangement was disruptive to their schedule. Ashley was seven, and in our opinion, too old to be going to bed by seven, and even for three-year-old Mikey it was pushing it. Especially since our bedtime—the one Violet had followed—was eight. It threw off their sleep rhythm at our house. They’d get acclimated just tohave to change it again. And since Joe and I often didn’t get them home until five or later, putting them to bed at seven meant we hardly had time to do dinner, homework, and baths.

Their grandparents made them eat everything on their plate, and if they didn’t, they were forced to sit at the dinner table until they finished. I was frustrated to no end. Violet would have never allowed any of this to happen, but I was powerless to stop it.

And then there was the fact that Mike’s parents tended to bad-mouth us to the kids, telling them how we weren’t their real guardians, we were just babysitting them until their father came home, which was highly unlikely. It only made them upset.

“I’ve tried convincing Mike into letting us have custody until there’s a verdict in his trial, but he refuses to entertain the idea. He shuts the conversation down every time I mention it, and says his parents have a right to seehiskids.”

She made a face. “He’s just bein’ spiteful.”

I was pretty sure she was right. I think he still blamed me for Violet’s estrangement from him before her death.

“Time to change the subject,” I said, feeling the familiar lump in my throat discussing the situation. “In any case, we’re definitely meeting you tomorrow.”

My dog Muffy, who had been sleeping in her dog bed next to my desk, popped her head up.

“Sorry, Muff,” I said. “You can’t go. I’m pretty sure no dogs are allowed.”

Muffy put her head on her paws, looking depressed.

“Maybe next time, Muffy,” Neely Kate said, leaning over to give her wiry head a rub before she stood again. “Did I tell you that Daisy and I have matching red stocking caps and mittens to go with our outfits?”

Her bedazzled hats and mittens. The glitzier the better, as far as Neely Kate was concerned. “Youdoknow it’s supposed to be a high of sixty-five tomorrow?”

“That’s what the weatherman said, but he’s wrong more often than he’s right.” She lifted her chin with a defiant look. “The universe knows how much I want this, and it won’t disappoint me.”

While Wet and Wild Walt the Weatherman was often wrong, the fact it had gotten to nearly seventy degrees today suggested that his forecast for tomorrow might be on the nose.

“Hey,” she said, her face lighting up. “If Muffy could come, we could dress her up in one of those cute little costumes.”

“What cute little costumes?” I wasn’t sure why I asked. Neely Kate loved to put my dog in a variety of costumes, especially before she had Daisy. I was pretty sure Muffy appreciated that Neely Kate had a new subject to dress up.

“You know.” She waved her hand. “The ones where their front legs are character’s legs, and they have arms carrying something. Like Chucky with a knife or a pirate with a sword. I bet they have Santa ones with a beard and everything. Maybe they’re even holding a bag full of toys.”

Muffy looked up at me with wide eyes as though she understood what Neely Kate was saying and was pleading with me to save her.

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