Page 10 of Christmas Wishes

I parked in front of the single-story brick building. Doris and her friends had lobbied the city for years to get a senior center established for the older adults in the area. The decommissioned city office building was the perfect spot for them.

Doris’s nosy and well-meaning questions would be a good distraction from the interaction at the coffee shop. It had been jarring as hell to see someone else in Nico’s coat. Especially a confident twink—my kryptonite. Good thing my work schedule left me no room to regret not giving him my number.

I hadn’t gotten off with anyone else since before Nico had gotten sick in the spring. My celibate state wasn’t by choice but more a side effect of grief and exhaustion. If I lived in the city, finding an anonymous hookup would be easier. I knew too many people in Juniper Ridge to get some no-strings naked stress relief here.

Doris greeted me at the senior center entrance. My stress melted at her warm smile. Her white hair was even smoother than usual and slightly shorter than when I’d last seen her. It must’ve been time for her monthly haircut today.

“Thank you so much for coming by, sweetheart. Are you sure you have time for this?” A crease formed on her brow.

“I always have time for you.” I kissed her cheek.

Her smile melted as her expression turned assessing. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. Just tired.” I strode over to a table where strings of lights were laid out, and I set my toolbox on the ground.

“Bullshit. What happened?”

I sighed. I didn’t have it in me to dodge her questions like I normally would at least attempt to. “I ran into someone wearing that retro ski coat of Nico’s.”

Doris’s lips curved into a nostalgic smile. “That fugly blue one? Who would’ve willingly chosen that? The pockets are falling off.”

“How do you know what fugly means?”

She gave me an unimpressed look. “I have TikTok. I’m not dead.”

“I don’t even have TikTok.”

Doris leaned in conspiratorially. “You’re missing out. There’re men who do pole dancing.” She covered her mouth and giggled.

I blinked. “There’s what?” I shook my head to clear it, though she’d already planted the idea to Google male pole dancers later. Damn, I’d pay to see the guy in Nico’s coat wrapped around one. “What can I help with?”

Doris led me to a table with a few pieces of paper with rough sketches and the lights she wanted me to help hang on the building. She talked through the plans for their parade float and what she needed my help with on the lighting front. It wasn’t too massive of a job. Just a few custom pieces, and I could recycle some stuff from previous years. I was grateful Doris wasn’t asking for miracles with lighting for the senior center building. I had half a mind to sell solar-light kits on the side if that wouldn’t undercut the electrician business.

“This is all doable,” I said after we talked it through.

Before I stood to do a sweep of the electrical, Doris grabbed my hand. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

I grunted.

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “We’re at the wordless answers part of the day, I see.”

“Long day.” Long week. Longer year.

“That had to be a shock to see someone else in that jacket.”

I nearly laughed, remembering the guy’s pickup attempt, but I didn’t need to share that with Doris. “I’m good. It surprised me, is all.”

She didn’t look convinced, but I stood and got to work before the conversation went any further. Undeterred, she followed me.

“The Airbnb guest get settled in?”

She’d done the books for the business for years and helped Nico with his Airbnb side hustle too. Doris was a godsend. I had a lot of skills, but keeping track of receipts wasn’t one of them.

“I think so. Haven’t heard from him, but I got a notification that the door lock was accessed. I assume he’s good.” Shit. I should’ve texted to make sure he was settled in. I wasn’t any good at the hosting thing, but I hated to give up on something that Nico had loved.

Doris disappeared and returned a few minutes later with a box in her hand. “Here. Take these cookies home to share with your guest. I made the spritz ones you love.” She placed the large metal tin covered in gingerbread people in my outstretched hands.

I opened the lid and snuck one. She made melt-in-your-mouth, buttery, spritz cookies. “Thanks for this.” I smiled—a real one. “Better get to work.”

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