Page 14 of Meet Me on Christmas Eve

“I mean, I grew up here, so I was surrounded by Christmas just like everyone else. I didn’t hate it. My parents were trying to fit in with American culture and went all out with the decorating. Foreveryholiday, but especially Christmas. When things got worse with them, in the years before the divorce … well, the holidays were the only time Mama didn’t seem mad at Dad. It was nice.” She paused, looking at me with a half-smile. “But that’s in the past. We are going to rock around the clock this year and own Christmas, dammit.”

I laughed, her enthusiasm infectious.

“Hello, girls.”

We turned to the side to see Jane Christiansen standing with another woman.

Did she hear what we’d said? I groaned inwardly. That was not a very professional start to our meeting.

“Jane, so lovely to see you again!” Hazel said, striding toward her with a bright smile as I rushed to keep up.

“Yes, lovely.” She eyed us both, and I couldn’t read her expression or her tone.

“Thanks for meeting with us,” I said politely, and my eyes drifted briefly to the older woman at her side and then back to Jane.

The other woman nudged Jane, who then grinned. “Oh, suppose I’d better introduce my other half. Girls, this is Nina.”

I stuck out my hand to her. “I’m Mariana Northam, and this is Hazel Tanaka-Katz.”

Nina’s eyes widened. “Wait, you don’t mean … you’re nottheHazel Katz, are you?”

Hazel grinned. “I am.”

Nina looked at Jane and then back at us. “I love your work. I own all your books, and I even went to one of your retreats a year ago. I … wow, it’s really you!”

As she continued gushing to my best friend the minor celebrity, I eyed Nina curiously. There was something slightly familiar about her. Did I remember her from a retreat? It seemed unlikely, as I usually wasn’t very involved in the running of Hazel’s events, but I suppose it was possible. Though she could practice law, Hazel was much happier in her career as a successful and fairly well-known mental health coach and body positivity activist. People called her a cross between Brene Brown and Geneen Roth, and the resort hosted many of her events. Her assistant, who organized all her events both in and out of Minnesota, was even part of my staff—even though Hazel wasn’t, technically.

“How much longer are we going to stand outside?” Jane cut in, sounding grumpy. “This fabulous hair of mine doesn’t withstand snow very well.”

“Apologies, Mrs. Chris—I mean, Jane,” I said, taking her gently by the elbow. “Let’s head inside, and we’ll find a comfortable place to sit down. Maybe by the fireplace?”

Her eyes narrowed at me. “This place doesn’t have a fireplace. Haven’t you ever been here before?”

Oh, crap.

“I have—yes, I definitely have. It’s just been a while. I mean … you know, I think it was just so pleasant and warm last time that I assumed there was a fireplace. The delicious coffee must have distracted me.” I pasted a smile on my face.

Her lips twisted into a frown. “Meh, the coffee is just OK. I need to talk to someone about that. Now the tea, you won’t find better. The scones, perfect.”

Hazel chimed in then. “I love the cinnamon scone.”

“I gave them my recipe, you know,” Jane said, her mouth forming a slight smile as she eyed Hazel.

“You must be an amazing baker then,” I said.

She ignored me though, instead asking Hazel if she liked any of the other scone flavors. I sighed. Well, it’s a good thing I’d brought Hazel along.

Nina looked over at me briefly, curiosity in her expression, and then she put her arm around Jane as the hostess walked us over to a table, with Hazel and me following right behind them.

“Not near a window, please. Your warmest seats in the house, please,” I said to the hostess, loud enough for Jane to hear me. But did she turn around or acknowledge my efforts?

No, of course not. Not then, and not during the entire meal.

Something wasn’t right.

I was going to lose this deal.

At this point, there wasn’t even a deal to lose. Not even close.

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