Page 11 of Christmas Wishes

As I worked, I thought through my schedule for the rest of the week and where I could fit in more work on Doris and company’s display. I wanted them to be wowed by it and maybe have a chance at one of the festival awards for best lights. I wanted to do Nico proud by making sure it was the best damn Lights Up Juniper Ridge ever.

When I packed up an hour later, Doris pulled me in for a long hug. The woman was as strong as an ox.

“Promise me you’ll take care of yourself and get some sleep. I’m worried about you.”

“I’ll do my best.” It was the most I could offer.

“How about I fix some meals you can keep in your freezer and heat when you need them?”

The smile came easier that time. “I’ll never turn down your cooking. Thanks, Doris.”

I kissed her cheek and grabbed my toolbox. I popped a couple more cookies in my mouth before starting the truck. My guest wouldn’t know how many were missing. No harm, no foul.

God, the last thing I had the energy for was to be a peppy host. Hopefully, Keaton was the kind of guest who preferred to keep to himself.

Chapter6

Keaton

The drivewayto the Airbnb made a half circle connecting to the main road through the neighborhood. Fully grown trees and shrubs between the driveway and road gave the home some nice privacy. The siding was a mix of faux stone and standard horizontal panels with a forest-green trim. It was lovely. I wasn’t sure what to expect on the inside, but the exterior was promising.

Though, as I navigated the driveway, I realized it was the only home on the road without any holiday decorations. Even for someone who didn’t celebrate any winter holidays, I would’ve expected something nondenominational. A few snowflakes in the window, at least. The house would be stunning with full decorations.

After parking in front of the house, I opened the screenshot of the entry instructions. My fingertips were numb by the time I got the door unlocked and my bags inside. I’d overpacked. As usual. Except this time, I’d overpacked with unusable clothing.

With a heavy breath, I closed and locked the door behind me. The place was nice and toasty, so I ditched the retro jacket on a coat rack near the door. I stepped farther inside to scope it out and immediately noticed the lack of decorations carried to the inside as well.

I moved from the hallway into a living room and was struck by the odd furniture layout. I was itching to change it. A giant television sat at such an odd angle that it was hard to imagine anyone actually watching something on it. The framed fly-fishing lures and older furniture gave me the impression my host was an older guy.

Arlo, bless him, allowed me full reign over decorating and furniture placement in our apartment, not including his bedroom. The man had the patience of a saint. Though, the one time I moved his bedroom furniture around, he moved it right back. I enjoyed mixing things up once in a while—especially when the layout could be much more inviting.

I hoped Arlo was doing okay. I imagined he was getting panicky. He had to be nearing Dahlia Springs by now. I was confident this trip would be good for him. Choosing not to meet his family was completely valid, but I wanted him to be able to make that choice without the physical distance between them being the main factor. Or excuse.

A part of me felt guilty—like I’d thrown him to the wolves to cope all by himself all week. But I knew he was more resilient than he gave himself credit for, and sometimes, he needed a little nudge to take action.

I scanned through the other messages he’d sent. I wasn’t sure where my room was in the house and thought Arlo had sent something about that. I skimmed the screenshots and saw a mention of a spiral staircase.I have to lug my shit up a spiral staircase? That fucking sucks.

By the time I finished, sweat dripped down my temples and I’d ditched the Snow Bunny sweatshirt. I sat on the edge of the bed and pulled out my phone to bitch to Arlo about it when I saw he’d texted.

Arlo: [photos attached]

Arlo: I can’t believe you arranged for me to stay in a doll shrine for a week!

I opened the first picture and let out a peal of laughter. The creepiest dolls in elf costumes I’d ever seen sat clustered together on an oversized couch. The photos kept getting better—or worse, depending on the perspective—as I went. There were dollseverywhere.

Then it clicked.

Dollia Springs B&B.Dollia, not Dahlia, like the town.

I winced. Arlo hated dolls. I wasn’t sure why, but I knew that whenever he stayed with my family for Christmas, he tossed a washcloth over the doll in a red Christmas dress that sat on a shelf in the bathroom.

I supposed the spiral staircase—okay, and the snow—was karmic payback for the dolls.

As I took in the room, nothing about the space inspired me to create content. It was as perfectly nondescript as a rental could get away with, but not my style. A lot of white and pine.

It didn’t help that I’d packed palettes and colors to complement desert hues and colorful sunsets, not overcast skies and pine trees dripping with snow.

I stood and wiggled my entire body to shake off the dour feelings creeping in. I could already sense that I was reaching for excuses.What the hell is my hang-up with this? Creating beauty videos should be a breeze for me. I was the opposite of shy—that was Arlo’s thing—and had no qualms about my face being on the internet. I already did the occasional beauty tutorial on my personal Instagram. So, what was the big deal about making a professional account? Ugh. Plenty of time to worry about that later.

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