Page 7 of Mistletoe Misses
“Don’t ruin it. I’m still happy to see you.”
“Such a sweet boy, you are.” She pats me on the thigh as we both sit, her eyes taking in every inch of me in her normal grandmotherly observation. “Catch me up.”
Knowing I can’t avoid it, I recount what caused my visit and how much I hate it. The unsettling first sight of Carmen in nine years and sleepless night that followed will have to wait until I wrap my head around it … or never, preferably. I’m hoping it was a one and done, and I can forget it even happened. Our lives have taken separate and very different paths and mingling the two would be a horrible idea. I can’t trust myself not to say things I shouldn’t.
“Did your parents know you were coming?” Nana asks, wanting to scold whoever kept her out of the loop.
“No. I wasn’t sure how being here would go, so I thought surprising them was safer in case I changed my mind.”
“I’m glad you didn’t. We miss you.”
“I miss you all, too.”
“Tell me about Boston. Are you making friends, getting out, experiencing all that the big city life offers?”
My hesitation gives away the truth. Outside of work, I barely do more than keep myself alive each day.
“Maddox, you’ve got too much going for you to let your broken heart stay that way.”
When Carmen left all those years ago, Nana was the first person I went to for comfort. She lost her high school sweetheart and first husband to war several years after they married. Her second husband helped start this bookshop before he passed from a massive heart attack. The third, she lost over time to cancer. She loved each one as if they’d been her one and only, like her loss hadn’t almost killed her, too. She showed me each time how to survive, recover, and love again. I just couldn’t apply that knowledge when the grief happened to me. It took too much out of me to convince myself, no matter her trusted advice, that I wouldn’t feel broken forever. That Carmen wouldn’t be the only girl I’d love my entire life. And I’d been right.
“I’m not like you, Nana. I’m not good at letting people in.”
“You used to be. You were once so kind and generous with your love. It’s a special gift, Maddy. And you don’t have to be like anyone, sweetheart. You just have to try in your own way.” Her soft hand cups my cheek. “You know what I think?”
“I’m afraid to ask.”
Sitting back, she surveys me, and I’m not sure I want to hear whatever wisdom she’s about to deliver. “I think you coming here at this point in your life is happening for a reason.”
“Yeah? Why is that?”
“I have my ideas, but mainly because you need to reconnect with your roots—the place and people who made you who you are.”
“That guy doesn’t exist anymore, Nana.”
“Yes, he does. He just hasn’t seen the light of day for almost a decade.”
I roll my eyes. Sometimes I wish she didn’t know me so well.
“You locked away that sweet boy, and all you need to do is let him out and get to know him again.”
“And I suppose you’re going to help me do that?”
“Yes, sir.”
That answer gives me the sudden urge to flee and avoid the rest of this conversation, but my stand and fight training kicks in while I await her plan. No doubt she has one and it makes me gravely nervous. “How?”
“Don’t you worry about that. Just know your Nana has everything covered. By the time Christmas arrives, you’ll feel like a whole new man.”
“I’m not comfortable with this. Maybe I like my current man card.”
“You don’t, and no one said change is easy. But everything will work out the way it should if you do what I say.”
“Don’t I always?”
“Youarea great listener.” The bell on the door chimes as a customer enters, and Nana rises. Before greeting them, she kisses my forehead and whispers, “That’s why you’re my favorite. Don’t tell your brothers and sisters.”
While Nana talks about flowers and gardens and searches for the best book to assist her customer with both, I stroll through the shop. It takes only two aisles to find a handful of red flags. Mom hadn’t exaggerated about the shop’s condition, after all. Broken floorboards, mildew piling up in the windowsills, water damage on the ceiling, cracked drywall, leaning bookshelves, the list goes on.
