Page 2 of Knotty, Nice, & Holiday Lights
“What’s wrong?” is the greeting my friend, Bec, gives me, in her usual brash, no-nonsense tone.
I sigh. “What makes you think something is wrong?”
She huffs a humorless laugh. “Girl, it’s mid-afternoon and you’re calling me. We never talk before your work day is over.”
Huh.
“So, what’s wrong?”
I sigh again, roll over onto my side, and put the phone on speaker. “I got fired.”
The silence stretches long enough that I check my phone to make sure the call is still connected.
It is.
I wince, and wait for it, in three, two—
“What kind of flying father-fucking shit is that?”
I choke a laugh at her shriek, then purse my lips. I can always count on Bec to give voice to my inner thoughts I hadn’t even known I had.
Flying father-fucking shit,indeed.
“My supervisor said it was a downsizing, but I was the only one packing my shit,” I grumble. “And I’m supposed to hop in my car and head to my parents’ place for Thanksgiving in two days.”
Bec already knows all about my familial relationships, and I expect another outburst from her. Instead, I get an oddly calm, “Ditch them.”
This makes me sit upright, brows drawing in question. “And do what?”
“Make an excuse—something good—and book a stay up in Crescent Lake.”
“Crescent Lake?” The name is familiar. “Wait, isn’t that where Violet Marshall moved to a year or so ago?”
“And Steve and Sam Bauer, yeah.”
I frown at this. “What am I supposed to do in a strange town over the holiday? I’m not going to barge in on someone else’s family time.”
“Don’t worry about all that,” Bec tells me in a tone that immediately spikes my suspicion. “Let me book you a stay at this adorable B&B I stayed at during Violet’s wedding. It’s amazing, I promise.”
“I don’t know, Bec—”
“My Christmas gift to you, Iz.” The way she says it leaves no real room for argument.
Not that I won’t try anyway. “Look, Bec, I appreciate it, but I really should just get this over with, you know? Go to Long Beach for a week, see my family, tell them their only daughter is an unemployed artist and let them make themselves feel better by talking about how great my brother is doing in life.”
“Do you hear yourself?” she demands. “This is your holiday season, too. You don’t need to put up with that shit. Do something for yourself, or I will make you.”
It sounds like a threat. And maybe it is.
I smoosh my lips between my teeth, then jut my jaw.
I mean, Bec’s right. I should be able to enjoy the holiday season, too, without being miserable.
If I go see my family, I’ll definitely be hating life for it.
If I go to Crescent Lake, a place where only two people in the whole town know me and will likely never see me, the possibilities are open for a fun celebration. Or, at the very least, a quiet one.
And maybe I’ll get lucky and it will snow while I’m there. Outside the mountain caps on the horizon, I haven’t seen snow since I was a little kid.
