Page 31 of Storybook Christmas

“You know, in a small way, me too.”

“Lace, youwillfind something better—there’s no question. You’re amazing at your job.”

I nod slowly, happy to hear Eleanor say that. “I will. I’ll just miss Bertha.”

“You won’t miss Bertha because she’ll miss you more, so she’ll be at your house all the time.”

Eleanor and I both laugh. I say, “You’re probably right about that.”

She raises a brow that’s currently covered in smeared mascara. “So, you brought a total hottie to the party.”

“Yeah, and he’s not just hot. He’s…” I trail off as I try to think of how to summarize the wild contradiction that is Finn Hayes. “He’s witty, compassionate… and totally charming.”

Eleanor swats my shoulder. “Holy smokes. You’ve fallen for him.”

“No.” I shake my head vigorously. “I haven’t,” I say weakly, not believing my own words. “Okay, maybe I have, but I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“For starters, I already blew it with him.”

“No way! How?” After I fill her in on the whole story, she says, “I don’t blame you. Stripping would be a deal-breaker for me, too.” Then her face puzzles and she taps her finger on her chin like she does when she goes into data-processing mode. “Well, depending on the reason. If he did it to raise money for charity, then I’d give him a pass. As an attorney, I’ve learned that everything is about motivation.”

With that point, I think about the bills Finn said he had stacked up. And how his grams taught him to make his own door when life doesn’t open one for you. I swallow hard before I say, “I don’t know his motivation. I never asked.”

She puts on her hard-nosed lawyer’s face. “Sounds like you didn’t properly question the accused.”

“I did not.” I feel like I’m on the stand, caving, just like most who are forced to endure Eleanor interrogations.

But then, Eleanor does something she doesnotdo when she’s working as an attorney—she smiles. Her big, sweet smile that warms me like the smell of freshly baked chocolate-chip cookies. She says, “Well, then. Go do it.”

13

The Stand

THE NEXT MORNING, I rush up to Finn’s house, or what should be his house based on his employment records, and I see him coming out of the front door. He’s pushing an elderly woman in a wheelchair who has to be his grandmother. She has the same shock of black hair he does, but with a touch of gray.

I meet his gaze, and the usual sparkle in his eyes is gone. My heart pinches.

I approach Finn and Grams, whom he’s wheeling her down the driveway. I curl my fists under the sleeve of my jacket, as it’s suddenly getting colder out. “Hello there,” I say to the woman, smiling.

“You must be Lacy.” She returns the smile. It’s a really nice one, and I can see where Finn gets it.

“Yes. And you must be Finn’s grams.”

“I’m Marge.”

“It’s wonderful to meet you, Marge.”

“What are you doing here?” Finn cuts in.

“I’m sorry. I tried to call you.” I wring my hands together through my sleeves, then I force myself to stop. “I know it’s Christmas Eve, but I was hoping I could talk to you. I came here because I don’t think I’ll be back in the office.” I remembered Finn saying that he and Grams don’t do much celebrating at Christmas, so I hoped I wouldn’t be too much of an imposition.

“I would, but I can’t right now, Lacy. I have to get Grams to her doctor’s appointment.”

A doctor’s appointment on Christmas Eve? That doesn’t sound good.

Marge reaches around and pats Finn’s shoulder. “He’s my angel, this boy. He works day and night, just to cover my medical care. I wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for him.”

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