Page 38 of Knot what I want for Christmas
And maybe I’ll make a decoration for Mrs. J to hang on her tree and a pair of oven gloves for Mr. J.
My heart is light and happy and bursting and when we step out of the store, it’s snowing again.
I think I freaking love this place.
Chapter Twelve
Hollie
My best friend looks up at the sky and frowns. “I was gonna take you for hot chocolate and muffins at the diner,” she tells me, “but this looks like it could be heavy snow and Dina’s not a fan of that.”
“Dina?” I say.
“My truck.”.
I glance down the street to where the rust bucket is parked. “Is Dina going to make it back to the ranch, Annie? We’re not going to get stuck in a snowdrift, are we?”
Annie snorts. “This is not some kind of Christmas movie, Hollie. And anyway, the snow’s light now, it’s just a precaution.”
Except Dina obviously disagrees, because when Annie turns the ignition several minutes later, the engine does nothing. Not a rumble, not a cough, not a splutter. It’s deadly silent. Annie’s not perturbed. After all, it took three attempts to start the truck last time. She turns the key a second time. A second time, nothing happens. The third time is exactly the same, and the fourth, andthe fifth, and the sixth. By the tenth time, Annie finally admits defeat.
“Darn it,” she says. “You can’t die on me right before Christmas, Dina.”
As soon as she says the words, she realizes what she’s said, glancing my way in horror. “I’m so sorry, Hollie.”
“Don’t worry about it, Annie. You don’t have to refrain from mentioning death in front of me for evermore. It won’t actually kill me.”
“I know,” she says. “I just don’t want to make you sad.”
“Make me sad? I’ve just had the most amazing morning and I’m going to spend my afternoon crocheting mini dicks.” I grin at her. “That’s if we can make it back to the house.”
“Yeah,” Annie tugs out her cell phone and hits dial, “I’ll call Dad,” she says, bringing the cell up to her ear. Annie explains to her dad what’s happened. Then she hangs up and turns to me. “Looks like it’s hot chocolate and muffins in the diner after all.”
We jump back down from the truck and trudge our way through the snow to the diner. It’s toasty warm inside, and I’m more than happy to while away more time drinking coffee, eating muffins, and having Annie point out the other regulars in the diner, who they are, and little stories about each one of them.
“I can’t believe you know everyone in this town,” I say in disbelief.
“Well, there’s only 3,000 of us,” Annie says. “There’s not that many to know.”
“Doesn’t it get … you know, claustrophobic at times? Everyone knowing your business and all that stuff.”
“Nope,” Annie says, “because it’s kind of nice. And people always help each other out in this town. Like when Dad’s knee finally gave up the ghost – there was a week while Mom was sick with the flu in bed – and the neighbors delivered them home-cooked food every night, and after Clay’s accident and he neededspecialist back surgery in New York, the community rallied round to raise the funds for him to go.”
“What?” I say, halting mid-muffin-bite. “What accident?”
My friend glares at me like she can’t believe I don’t know what she’s talking about. But I don’t. I have no idea.
“The accident he had when he was eighteen. You know, the one that ended his big rodeo dreams.”
I shake my head. “You never told me about that.”
Annie grimaces. “I didn’t? I guess it’s something none of us likes to talk about. Bad memories,” she visibly shudders. “I saw it happen. For a moment, I thought … well, I thought he was dead.”
“Shit! Whatdidhappen?”
“He got thrown from a horse in a rodeo competition. Which was nothing new for Clay. He knows how to fall from a horse and not get hurt.” I shudder – I can’t imagine ever falling from a horse and not being hurt by it. “But that one time he landed in this crazy-ass position and it broke his back. He’s lucky he’s still walking.”
“I had no idea.”
