Page 79 of Miss Humbug
I hooked her close and kissed her. Beneath the glow of the Christmas tree lights, it was downright festive. Romantically festive.
“Back together?” Shawn asked from the doorway. He pointed at his eyes and then to me. “I’m watching you, Sawyer. You be good to my successful, adult sister.” He moved on to the kitchen.
I looked at Marlowe. “That was interesting.”
“He’s working on it. Kind of like how I’m working on…everything.” She laughed.
“Prepare for dinner,” Cara called out from the kitchen. “That means hands should be washed!”
I spun Marlowe toward me. The coming weeks would be filled with change. With texts and coast-to-Midwest phone calls.
Those blank pages called to me. So many pages to fill.
Footsteps and voices sounded around us as the family moved to the dining hall for the big holiday dinner. Still, we stood in our little space by the tree, holding fast to this moment.
“I can’t imagine anyone else I’d rather spend Christmas with,” she said. “You, a rowdy family, and a child who no longer barks like a dog.”
I couldn’t take my eyes off her. “Thank goodness for that.” Thank goodness for this big, messy family who brought us together. And then together again.
“Bah Humbug, Ethan.”
“Merry Christmas, Marlowe.”
Epilogue
Marlowe
December,OneYearLater
Light applause sounded as members of the Holly family and the community gathered before a shiny red ribbon stretched across the front porch steps of Hollybrooke House.
So much had happened in one simple year. We’d established a family trust for the house. Created a separate Holly Family Foundation as a non-profit charitable organization to support community needs, including the transition of the Hollybrooke House into a family services respite facility.
As a seasoned community board member, Brianne had been a rock star throughout. Her connections and knowledge of board structure became invaluable. Even Shawn had to concede she, in fact, had better business sense than him. A statement the entire family witnessed over dinner last night, as follow-through on the wager he’d made with Brianne over beers at Checkers early in our foundation planning. We got it on video.
Sheree Bolden spoke to the crowd, thanking those present for their help and support. “Services to support families are vital for a community to thrive.”
She’d been on-site weekly to check progress on renovations. The house now included a ramp entry at the side door from the driveway, several widened doorways, and modifications to the ground floor bathroom to ensure the house met guidelines from the Americans with Disabilities Act.
Money we raised with the foundation went to many of these costs, requiring constant fundraising efforts. It was all a bit overwhelming. Just kidding. It was freaking amazing. Data all day, baby. I split my time between remote part-time work for a data analytics company headquartered in Chicago, and working on the foundation and overseeing the renovations alongside Sheree.
Sheree turned to me. “Marlowe. I believe you should be the one to cut the ribbon.”
We’d discussed this moment ahead of time, but the gesture still took me by surprise. She handed me a gleaming pair of silver scissors. I held in a breath. I couldn’t describe in words how much this moment meant. How much being here, surrounded by family and both new and familiar faces, gave me purpose. Gave me hope.
Not to delay this shindig further, I gave the pristine ribbon a decisive snip.
Applause sounded again. Ashe whistled and Cara whooped, “Woohoo!”
Riley snapped photos while Rafe made rounds through the crowd, schmoozing his business contacts. My nieces and nephews chatted with kids and their families. This project brought all of us together in a way none of us expected. Well, none but Grans.
Seated in one of the few chairs we’d brought outdoors for the occasion, Grans stood to lead guests into the home.
Ethan circled around the crowd to my side. “Way to go, Marlowe. Arlene is already spreading word on the town online forum about how beautiful the house looks.”
I glanced past him. “She hasn’t even gone inside yet.”
He shrugged. “Good press is good press.” He held out a hand. “Come on. Let’s head in.”
