Page 8 of Sleigh Bells and Snowstorms
“The suit? I don’t think Nina needs a guy who’s only in town part-time.”
“That’s fair. Well, the solution is bound to present itself, probably when we least expect it. Have a nice day, dear.”
The solution is for me and my sister to both stay single, thank you very much Ms. Small-Town Matchmaker.
“You too, Louise.” I smiled, keeping my thoughts to myself, and raised the window while she headed for the entrance to the store.
With no more meddling townspeople in sight, I left. A few snowflakes drifted from the low-hanging clouds. They wouldn’t add much to the layer of white that already covered the town, but I hoped the flurries weren’t the start of a bigger storm. I was used to getting around in the snow—mountain life—but the last thing I needed was one more complication. At least until after the holidays.
My phone rang, and the Bluetooth in my car picked it up. It was Rosa, one of my coworkers at the hospital.
“Hey,” I answered. “What’s up?”
Her voice was urgent. “Did you see the email?”
“No, I’m running errands. What’s going on?”
“We’re on strike.”
My mouth hung open, and I hesitated for a second, not sure what to say.
“Natalie? You there?”
“Yeah, sorry. I didn’t think it was actually going to happen.”
“I know. Neither did I,” she said. “Hopefully, they’ll get everything worked out sooner rather than later.”
“Fingers crossed.”
“I wasn’t sure if you were on the schedule for tonight and wanted to make sure you knew.”
“Thanks. I appreciate the heads-up.”
“No problem. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Bye, Rosa.”
She ended the call, and I let out a heavy sigh as I drove. A nurses’ strike. It was probably for the best. Things were tough in our field. Burnout was a huge problem, and there was a lot at stake in those negotiations. But man, the timing could not have been worse.
I didn’t want to be selfish about it, but I had a family to think about. Not in the traditional sense, of course. But Nina, Annabel, and I were a family—a household. We shared a home, costs, responsibilities. And we did the best we could.
But lately, even being a two-income household was hard. We lived in our childhood home our mom left to us when she passed. Which was great, except it seemed like everything in the sixty-year-old house had needed repair, maintenance, or full-on replacement in the last year alone. Inflation was hitting hard, as were the mountain of home repairs. Not to mention, Nina’s car died over the summer, mine had seen better days, and Annabel seemed to outgrow shoes every week.
A strike was not going to help, especially right before the holidays.
“Annabel, I hope you didn’t put anything expensive on your Christmas list,” I muttered to myself. “Santa’s on a tight budget this year. Again.”
I drove home, pondering solutions. We’d been trying to save enough money to replace the furnace. It still worked, but if it went out in the dead of winter, that would not be good. Putting off that project would at least buy us some time. We had a wood stove. If worst came to worst, we wouldn’t freeze. We’d probably have to move mattresses into the living room since the bedrooms would be cold, but Annabel would love an extended slumber party.
The bright side? If the strike went on long enough, I’d have Christmas off. And I hadn’t been home for Christmas in years.
Everything would be fine. We totally had this.
I turned onto our street and blinked in confusion. Why was a van in our driveway? And why was Nina home?
Not just a van, but a water damage restoration service van.
Oh no.
