Page 52 of The Holiday Hate-Off
God, that sounds depressing. I’m sorry, really. I LOVE this time of year, and most of the time I can find joy in the little things, but it feels like everything that’s heavy isheavier around the holidays—just like how all the good things are usually more joyful.
—Dancing Queen
p.s. What do you think of your new nickname?
After leaving out my offerings, I call Eileen. She and Charlie are the closest thing to family I have left, and right now, I need to feel like I’m not entirely alone in the world.
“Lucy, dear,” she says, her voice sweet and bright. “Are you working on your vagina?”
I laugh. “No, I haven’t touched it.”
That feels a little too accurate.
“Oh, I’ve been crocheting away at mine all evening. It’s surprisingly invigorating, isn’t it?”
“The club was a lot of fun,” I agree.
There’s a lull in the conversation, the silence brimming with unsaid things. I want to ask her about Enzo, but I’m worried she’d read too much into it.
Finally, I say, “I think Portia has a thing for Amanda Willis. You know…the actress.”
“Really?” she asks with interest. “Ididnotice them talking at the Christmas tree lighting, and Amanda is such a sweet girl. So down-to-earth. Have you spoken with her?”
“No.” I swallow, bracing myself. “Enzo’s the one who mentioned it.”
“Oh, how interesting. Is he still banned from the Sip?”
“Yes.But I thought you might want to know. We can maybe add Portia and Amanda to your matchmaking list.”
“Indeed,” she says with a smile in her voice. “Portia’s already on my list, of course. You know, I have just the thing to get them talking. Amanda mentioned to me the other day that shewas interested in branding opportunities. What if I suggest that she and Portia develop a candy together?”
“It sounds perfect,” I say, my heart warming. This is so like Eileen, always scheming so people can find their happily-ever-afters.
“Are you lonely tonight, my dear?” she asks, reading my uncomfortable thoughts without making me voice them.
Tears spring into my eyes. “Are you?”
This is something Eileen doesn’t talk about much with anyone other than me, maybe because I’m still in the thick of my grief and can understand. She misses her husband desperately. He’s been gone for two years, but his loss still casts a shadow on her life.
“Yes,” she says with a sigh. “I miss Murray the most at Christmastime. We had our little traditions, and it’s not the same now that he’s gone.”
“What would you be doing if he were here?”
She pauses. “We used to have competitions to see who could make the best hot chocolate, sometimes using the most unusual ingredients, especially after I opened the Sip. I’d put the strangest ones on the menu as specials.”
“Would you like to do that now?” I ask. “I mean, if it’s not too late and you’re not busy.”
“I would love it, dear. Come on over. Anddobring your vagina. We can work on them together.”
I didn’t askEileen about Enzo’s mother last night. It would have felt…inappropriate.
Okay, I didn’t say anything because she started talking about all the “wonderful young men” she wanted to set me up with. It had seemed like any sign of interest would be like blood in the water.
I don’t work at the café on Wednesdays, and I have plenty of work to do for my classes, including finishing my final project, but the prompt in my Advent calendar this morning felt too on point to be ignored:Are you at odds with someone? Make amends, dear. This is the season of forgiveness.
The first couple of prompts were contemplative like today’s. The others have been fun challenges—eat a multicolored candy cane, pet a dog, buy a stranger hot chocolate, buy yourself a new ornament. They’ve all been a delight. Hopefully, today’s challenge will lighten the dark feelings I’ve been carrying.
I take the rest of the cookies I made and make my way to the town square, a woman on a mission.
