Page 51 of Red Hot Roaster

Rose

“Hang on a moment, Lauren.” I laid my phone on the dryer and reached down to snag a crumpled, blue-colored square from the wastebasket. When I straightened it out, the words “clean up flower beds for winter” emerged, in my handwriting.

I glanced over to the mirror above the laundry sink. Blank spaces stuck out like sore thumbs among the orderly columns of Post-its. Columns usually stacked full with my Post-its for yard and house maintenance tasks.

What the fido?

It was Tuesday morning, and I was catching up with my girl before running out to do some errands and head to the café. Lauren’s disembodied voice echoed in the utility room, asking questions likeWhat’s going on?andAre you okay?

I snatched up the phone and informed her, “We’re moving this convo to the backyard. I gotta check something out.”

Pirate and Princess raced up to me when I stepped out onto the back patio. They were sure it was walk time, treat time or chase-the-ball time. I dispensed some ear and chest rubs, and they allowed me to push past them to look around the yard.

“That—that—that sneak.” I gasped. “He’s got some nerve.”

I swung around and…yep, further evidence of cunning. The storm windows were installed on all the windows on the back of the house, which led me to think….

“Rose Eleanor Connolly, if you don’t tell me what’s going on right now, I’m hanging up and calling the police,” my friend shouted in my ear.

“I knew it was a mistake giving Rafe a key to the house.”

“Why? What’s he done? Do we need to get up there now?”

Lauren and Finn were driving up from California together early the week of Thanksgiving. Two weeks were too long for us to go without dissecting our lives in the most normal of times—and with all we had going on, this was anything but. We’d been talking for a few minutes when I’d noticed the Post-it in the trash.

“No, girl, it’s fine. I’m fine,” I reassured her. “Rafe stole some of the Post-its from my household to-do list and…did them. That’s all.”

Silence filled the moment. Lauren being Lauren, it didn’t last long.

“You mean you’re all twerked out of shape because Rafe, this muscly hot guy you’ve been sharing your bed with, did something nice for you? Without you asking?”

Huh. When you put it like that…

“Okay, okay, you’ve got a point there, judge,” I admitted. “I guess I’m more annoyed at myself for not noticing. Rafe must think I’m a real dope for not thanking him by now.”

“From what you’ve told me, he doesn’t seem like the type of guy looking for thanks. Or expecting something in return.”

“Yeah, that’s true. I trust him tonothave an ulterior motive.”

Lauren remembered the dark days after David ghosted me when some college “friends” had come right out and said that I’d slept with him in exchange for good grades. And post-Brent, I’d agonized over the idea that he’d just wanted to get in my pants.

“You have a lot on your plate right now, Rose,” she noted gently. “And this is your first holiday season without your mom.”

I parked my heinie on top of the picnic table and set the phone beside me. It was sprinkling, and I could see Pirate and Princess chasing each other around the yard. It looked like both would be due for their favorite thing—towel rubdowns—before I took off.

Lauren waited patiently on the other end of the line while I sorted my thoughts.

Mom loved everything about this time of year. Throwing our Family-and-Friendsgiving party. Dressing up Pirate for the Turkey Dog Jog. Decorating the café and our house until there was hardly a square inch left bare. Baking and gifting a crazy array of holiday cookies and Swedish breads. Leading Karaoke and Karoling at the Chocolate Lab, even though she couldn’t carry a note.

I had a choice here. I could either sink into my sadness—and drag Finn, Mateo, my girls and maybe Rafe down with me—or count on my friends and family to lift me up and help me make it through this holiday season.

Lauren cleared her throat, reminding me she was still there. At the same time, the dogs ran up to me and shook themselves head to tail, spraying raindrops all over.

I yelped and came back to earth. Picking up our convo where we’d left off—knowing my girl would understand even though it’d been a good five minutes—I said, “Yes, I’ve got a lot going on, and yes, I’m missing Mom more than ever. But I know I’m doggone lucky too.”

“How so?”

“Because I’mnotalone in dealing with my life,” I pointed out. “In fact, I’m probably one of the most ‘un-alone’ people you know.”

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