Page 62 of The Twelve Months of Christmas
That afternoon Sunny got the videos up, and come evening she was calling Arianna. “Have you seen how many views you’ve got so far?”
“No, I’ve been busy with Sophie and Mom.”
Sophie. There had been a challenge. They hadn’t warned her what they were going to do and she’d been horrified at her grandma’s new look.
“Grammy, where’s your hair?” she’d wanted to know.
“We cut it off,” Mia said.
This had led to an honest but difficult discussion about the medicine Grammy was taking. “We want her to get better so we have to deal with some of these side effects,” Arianna had explained. “Grammy was going to lose her hair and she wanted to get a head start on looking pretty without it.”
“Would you like to help me try on one of my scarves?” Mia asked.
Sophie had been all over the fashion thing and happy to help Mia try on the scarf that Sunny had given her. “It’s pretty,” she’d said. “But I like your hair better, Grammy.”
“It will grow back,” Mia had said.
We’ll get through this, Arianna had told herself for the hundredth time that day.
Seeing the number of views on everything from YouTube to TikTok was an exciting shock. They’d gone viral on Instagram.
Mia was on the couch, crocheting. Arianna joined her and turned her phone so Mia could see one of the sites. “That many views?” she said in surprise.
“And look at the comments. ‘You are my hero,’” Arianna read.
“Desperate for a hero,” muttered Mia.
“And this one.I was just diagnosed with breast cancer. I’ll be doing the journey with you. Thanks for the encouragement. And this one,I can do this, too. Thanks!” Arianna read some of the other posts on other sites. They were all positive, with women either sharing their own survival testimony or asking questions. “You’re a hit, Mom.”
“Lemons out of lemonade,” Mia murmured.
If you had to have the lemons, it was good to at least make the lemonade.
Sunny stopped off at the post office to find Molly chatting with a handsome white-haired black man. He was broad-shouldered with a movie-star smile and wore faded jeans, boots and a Seahawks sweatshirt under a faded windbreaker. The way Molly was smiling at him suggested he was a favorite. Sunny wondered if, with that great smile and deep voice, he was a little more than a favorite customer.
Molly caught sight of her and called hello and Sunny strolled up and introduced herself.
“I’m Reggie Washington,” he said.
“My best and nicest customer,” said Molly.
His smile widened. “Is that so?”
Molly blushed. “You know you are.”
“I don’t know about being your best customer but I’m your biggest fan,” he said. He gave the counter a tap. “I’d better get moving. Nice to meet you, Sunny. Happy holidays.”
“Right back atcha,” said Sunny. “Oh, he is cute,” she said to Molly as he went down the stairs.
“He is a sweet man.”
“A sweet man?”
“Just a friend.”
“Looks like he wants to be more. What if he came and camped out under your Christmas tree. Would you bring him eggnog and cookies?”
“Well, I couldn’t let someone camp under my Christmas tree and not feed him, right?”
