Page 24 of The Holiday Honeymoon Switch
“And you use an actual little mini doctor’s bag for this task?”
Now he looks embarassed. “I know it seems silly, but George gave me the bag, so I use it.”
They walk up to the house, and Aiden rings the bell, waits a moment, then opens the door. It gives a soft creak. Inside, the place is bright and homey. It smells like cinnamon and cloves, cedar and pine. Woodsmoke. There’s a Christmas tree in every room, and each is decorated with old-fashioned ornaments, tin soldiers, dancingNutcrackerballerinas, hand-sewn snowmen, strings of cranberries and popcorn, dried orange slices, little clementines studded with cloves tucked onto the branches.
“It smellssogood in here,” Holly says. “Just like Christmas is supposed to smell.”
Aiden smiles as he leans down to take off his boots. “Yeah. This place reallyisChristmas, to all of us in town. I guess that’s why we work so hard to make it a good place for George to keep living in. We do it for him—but we do it for us, too.” He pauses, thinks. “We all know he can’t live here forever, but it means something, to the entire town, to try to keep him here.”
“Aiden, my boy, is that you?”
There’s a creaking on the stairs and a man comes into view. His hair is pure white, his eyes a bright, twinkling gray-blue, his face an inviting map of storytelling wrinkles, his body slightly stooped from the years he has carried. His movements are slow and careful, but when he makes it tothe bottom of the stairs, he moves toward them with a youthful vigor. “And who have you brought with you?” he asks, extending his hand.
“This is my friend Holly,” Aiden says. “We went to high school together. She’s staying at the cabin up on the North Service Road, and we’re running our errands together today.”
George’s eyes light up even more. “An old high school chum, how lovely! Simply a delight to meet you, Holly. And what a festive name you have.”
She’s startled by a warm, fuzzy rub against her leg and looks down to see an extremely fluffy white cat with a red collar and eyes just as bright blue as George’s looking up at her. “This must be the famous Mrs. Claws.” Holly reaches down to pat the cat’s pillowy fur. The cat flops down onto the rug and closes her eyes. A purr starts up, strong as a lawn mower’s motor. Mrs. Claws stretches out her body, luxuriating in the pats Holly is giving her.
“Ah, well, I wouldn’t go as far asfamous,” George says, but Holly can tell he’s pleased at the idea. “She was only in the one commercial, back when she was a kitten—and that was my Carole’s doing. She was as bad as one of those pageant parents, now wasn’t she, Aiden?”
“Mrs. Plaskett loved this cat more than you did, which is an impressive amount,” Aiden agrees.
“But at least I don’t go as far as dressing her up like Caroledid,” George says with a chuckle. “That woman. Always made our lives fun.” He lets out a small sigh, and Holly can feel how much he misses his wife. “Anyway, come in, come in. Usually Mrs. Claws runs away when you get here, Aiden, but she seems to like your friend.”
They head into the living room, which has cream-and-red-striped wallpaper, a soft cream-colored rug, and a fireplace ablaze in one corner, warming the room. An ottoman near the fire is draped with a fuzzy green blanket. “Got your operating table all ready for you, as always. Thanks to Drew. Come on, missy, up you go.” To Holly’s surprise, the cat leaps onto the ottoman and lies down, almost doglike in her obedience. “Now, perhaps since you’re here, Holly, you can save me bending down and just hold her there gently?”
Holly kneels by the ottoman and places her hands on the cat, who starts purring again.
“You seem to be a cat-lover yourself.”
“I had a cat growing up—a big tabby named Mr. Snuggles.” She catches Aiden’s eye, and he winks at her. She strokes Mrs. Claws’s forehead for a moment. “Mrs. Claws seems to be of the same ilk.”
Aiden has the needle ready. Holly keeps stroking the cat and chatting with George.
“There, all done,” Aiden says.
“That was fast, even for you, Dr. Coleman.”
“I’m becoming an expert at this. Perhaps I should think about training to be a vet.”
“You’ve got the brains for it. You could do anything.”
“Agreed,” Holly says, smiling up at Aiden. “He was the smartest person in our entire high school.”
“Tied for first,” Aiden says, waving her compliment away with a bashful look.
Mrs. Claws rolls over for a belly rub and Holly focuses on patting her, just for a moment, until George says, “How about a cup of tea, you two? I know the town has me on a visitation schedule like I’m some sort of feeble old person who needs to be watched over”—he winks at Holly—“but surely I can handle two visitors in one day? ’Tis the festive season, after all.”
Aiden glances at Holly. “Hollydoesneed to get into town to run some errands.”
“I’m in no rush, and I’d love a cup of tea, George.” The truth is, Holly doesn’t want to leave. George’s home is so warm, inviting and Christmassy in a way Holly has never experienced. She wants to soak it all in, just a little more.
“Let me fix the tea,” says Aiden, and heads for the kitchen. Soon he emerges bearing a tray, and George thanks him, then turns back to Holly.
“I’m sorry I don’t have anything fun to offer you in the way of snacks to go with the tea. Unless you want to eat sugar-free biscuits, which, let’s face it, no one does,” George says.
“Hot tea is perfect,” Holly says, pouring in a little milk. As she stirs it, she gazes out the window at the Christmas treeforest. “Your home and your property are so beautiful, George. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
