Page 106 of Booked for the Holidays
Years of letting go of the past.
Years ofmaybeandwhat if?
When all those years finally meet in one place, a culmination of joy and suffering, happiness and despair, it’s the most perfect moment in the world.
Everything makes sense.
Everything is clear.
Nothing else matters except thick-framed glasses, paint drip boots, flannel shirts and Bowie tattoos. Midnight kisses and rides in trucks with an army of Christmas trees.
And how lucky am I to have found such a beautiful thing?
The paintbrush clatters to the table. My lungs feel like they’re closing in, breathing nearly impossible. I grip the edge of the wood, keeping myself upright.
“Oh, shit,” I whisper.
“There it is,” Chandler sings. “If you’re happy, then fuck a timeline. Fuck how long it’s been.”
“From the woman who has sworn off relationships and ever loving again? That’s a sincere stamp of approval.”
“People like you deserve to be loved, Bridget. You give so much to others. I’m glad to see you finally accepting it, too.”
“Well.” I wipe my eyes with the back of my sleeves. I sniff and clear my throat. “Let’s paint some reindeer and pretend this conversation never happened because I swear everything around me is spinning.”
“Sorry, friend. Now that you’ve realized it, it’s going to be impossible to ignore.”
FORTY-ONE
BRIDGET
“I can’t waitto see how everything looks,” Lucas says. He rocks on his feet excitedly, grinning at the buildings in front of us.
The sun has set, giving us a chance to see the full splendor of our design. Exterior lights hang from the roofline and awning of both shops. We went with colored lights outside, a rainbow of blues and greens and reds blinking under the night sky. Snowflakes cover the glass of the windows, an impending blizzard on the horizon.
“Okay.” I take a deep breath. “Ready for the tour, y’all?”
“Lead the way, Bridget,” Theo says, tapping my elbow and dragging his fingers down my forearm.
I march to the door and push it open. I freeze in the entryway, words stuck in my throat, unable to speak.
It’s beautiful. To the right, there’s a line of candy canes leading to the coffee counter. To the left is the Christmas tree trail. No two look the same. Brooke’s has blue lights. Chandler went with white. Molly branched out and did red and green. Michaela, my last employee, did icicles. The tree that customers have been decorating over the last six weeks is covered in ornaments, must-read books written on the small scraps of paper.
I step inside, investigating further.
Each tree has ornaments special to the decorator. Souvenirs from memorable trips. An art project from the early 90s. A gag gift given to them years ago, now a staple adornment. A wishlist sits on the tree skirt under every fir. Favorite toys and movies are shared on the handwritten notes, complete with a plate of cookies and milk.
Malik rigged the music playing through the speakers to coordinate with the lights on the trees, a dancing symphony of sights and sounds.
“Holy shit,” Chandler says. “This is incredible.”
A menorah sits on a table, ready to be lit at the start of Hanukkah. Additional lights run along the perimeter of the interior walls, the space brighter than noon on a sunny day.
“I can’t wait to see what next door looks like!” Felicity says.
We head to the hardware store next. In here, nine reindeer stand, dispersed through different aisles. Toward the back of the store is a large sleigh, a stuffed Santa sitting behind the reins. Above our head runs a clothesline from the door to the rear exit. Polaroids and printed photos dangle from clothespins. I see Jordan with her little sister on skis. Bradley and his mom on a couch in matching pajamas. A little Lucas holding a baseball bat with a bow, grinning at the camera. Young Theo and the mall Santa that terrorized him. Me sitting in a stocking as a baby. Chandler wearing a Christmas tree dress, a candy cane headband on her head.
A collection of years past, proudly showcased for all to see. Some have popular gifts from the 80s in the background, Speak & Spells and Walkmans. Some were taken with cell phones. Vastly different but still so similar, a common bond uniting all the images.
