Page 64 of Meet Me on Christmas Eve

And then I jumped back because … ew. “Um, Haz, when did you last wash that shirt?”

She pulled it toward her nose. “Uh, good question.”

I smiled and pointed behind me. “It’s all right. As you can see, my place is a bit of a mess too. It turns out I’m a wallower after all.”

“Duh.” She rolled her eyes. “Love can do that to anyone. Even you.”

“Don’t I know it,” I muttered, moving over to the couch. I tossed her my favorite blanket and grabbed a different one as I got comfy on the other side.

As she settled in, she exclaimed, “Ew! This blanket smells like … tacos? Teriyaki? And something like rotting apple pie?”

I giggled. “I told you, it’s been that kind of week.”

“It’s not cat food, is it? Did you get a cat?” She pretended to look around.

My smile was wistful as I responded, “No, but I have thought about it.”

Her eyes were bulging. “Seriously? Here?”

“I don’t … you know how I feel about pets. They’re cute, but they don’t belong at an upper-class resort.” I inhaled deeply and blew it out slowly. “Maybe I’ll find another place. I don’t know.”

Her eyebrows were impossibly high on her forehead as she tucked her feet under her. “Wow. I feel like I’ve missed a ton while I was away.”

“A bit,” I said, trying to laugh but instead just making a weak crackling sound.

She looked at me seriously. “Mari, are you OK? I saw what happened down there.”

I raised my eyebrows. “You mean at the front desk just now?”

“Yeah, I was just in one of the offices nearby, and I heard most of it. Sweetie …”

I stared at the big potted fern across from the couch. “I’d never met her before. Hazel, I didn’t even know if she was alive. But also … I kind of stopped caring, long ago.” I paused, biting my lip hard. “Does that make me a terrible person?”

“Hell no. I’m no shrink and have zero experience with deadbeat parents, but it sounds like the healthy thing to do.” She reached over and patted my shoulder gently. “How are you feeling now?”

I stared at the patterned leaves on the fern, which I’d bought myself as a housewarming present when I moved in here. Finally, I turned to Hazel and said honestly, “It’s hard to explain.”

Her eyes were wide as she reached for the tissue box. “Aw, Mari, you—you’recrying. I’m sorry, we don’t have to talk about this—”

“It’s fine. I’m OK,” I assured her.

The odd thing was, I meant it.

The circumstances were far from OK, butIwas OK. For once, the intensity of feelings didn’t cause panic.

She looked at me in astonishment.

“Crying is healthy sometimes, right?” I asked her before sniffling. “And so is talking about feelings—isn’t that what you always tell me?”

Her eyes are still huge as she nods slowly. “Of course, a hundred times yes, but I never thought you were listening. You’ve always insisted showing emotions was a weakness.”

I took a deep breath. “Yeah, I have. Because I thought I had to be …” I stopped, wiping another tear from my cheek. “I made these rules for myself. I transformed myself into a person I thought would be accepted. A person who’d never be scorned for being poor or flighty or irresponsible or …”

“Being human?”

My eyes met hers, and I knew I had to give her more. She deserved it. “Yes. You see, my childhood wasn’t just difficult. It was … there were times I didn’t know if we’d survive. My dad and me. We were poorer than poor. We had nothing—sometimes not even a place to live. My so-called mother abandoned us shortly after I was born, and my father was really sick. Eventually he moved to a nursing home, and I went into foster care. And both before and after that, Hazel, I had nothing. None of the material things but also nodignity, no friends. I was ridiculed for being dirt-poor at school, and then the foster families didn’t really like me either. And when Dad died, I was devastated. It wasn’t until mid-teens that I finally ended up with a decent foster family. They even wanted to adopt me, but I ran away. I know, stupid, right? I should’ve been honored to call Lisa Jackson my adoptive mother. She ended up being the reason I could afford to buy this place. When she died, she left me a big chunk of her money. I didn’t deserve it, but I vowed to put it to good use, to become someone she’d be proud of. Someone Dad would be proud of.”

Hazel’s eyes were soft. “Oh, Mari, I’m sure he would be proud of you even without the money, but I think I get it.”

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