Page 34 of Secret Santa

The drive home had been an agonizing four and a half hours of me willing the drive to go faster, the traffic to disappear, and the roads to get shorter. No amount of bargaining with the universe made it take any less time to get home. By the time I pulled into my parking spot and double timed it to the entry gates I felt like a panting, raving, lunatic.

“I wouldn’t, sugar.” Fitzy sat on a chair near the pool, a dirty martini in hand.

“I need to explain,” I told her, assuming she knew all about what happened. “It’s just a misunderstanding.”

“I know it is. Come, sit. You like your martinis dirty? I’ll make you one.”

I didn’t want a martini. I wanted Priscilla. I needed to hold her. To feel her melt against my body when I hugged her and apologized for hurting her.

“I didn’t mean to hurt her,” I told Fitzy as she passed over a freshly made martini.

“I know, sugar. She’s just in her head is all. This town hasn’t been all that kind to her family.”

“I didn’t realize that trying to get her some help would put my kids’ scholarships in jeopardy. She looked so exhausted. I just wanted to alleviate some of the weight from her shoulders. Beckett thought that the volunteerism story would fit because it was just before Thanksgiving and a lot of the kids on campus do a lot of volunteering ahead of the holiday. We just needed something that if the USAS came back and asked us about it we could point to it and say “they love Miss Priscilla so much they wanted to give back because of all the joy she gives them.”

Fitzy placed her hand over mine. Whatever else I’d been about to say came to a full stop as if someone had blown a disqualification whistle. When I looked up at her, those bright blue eyes of her glistened with empathetic understanding.

“I know, sugar. She’ll come around. I promise you. Just leave her be for a few days. Send her a text. Let her know you’re giving her some space. And hope for the best. I think if you go in there trying to force her to see things from your side, she’ll curl even further into herself. I got your back, I promise.”

Me: Priscilla I came home but your lights in your house are off. I’m hoping you’re getting some much-needed R & R.

Me: I am so incredibly sorry for this. Please give me a chance to explain. I don’t want to upset or escalate things, so I’ll wait until you’re ready. As long as you need, so long as at some point, you give me the opportunity to explain. ????

I hated it. Just sending a text message and waiting. It wasn’t who I was. I found problems andfixedthem. Allowing things to fester never did anyone a lick of good. But Priscilla may as well have been Fitzy’s daughter with how fond they were of each other. So I took her advice and I waited.

ChapterTwenty-Four

It hurt. Seeing his text messages and not responding hurt like hell. But I didn’t want to shoot of an emotional text message.

“The dress code is fancy A.F. as the kids are saying these days. Be there at six sharp. I’m not chef and my timing skills are lacking so if you want to eat hot food you won’t be late.” Fitzy yanked open the door to the diner, not even giving me the chance to say my usual welcome before giving orders.

“Dress code for what?” I asked, barely able to pay attention to a conversation long enough for it to make sense.

“For the Secret Santa reveal. Let’s try sticking to the twenty-five dollar maximum this time, huh? I swear, I put limits for a reason then all of you go off and get super fancy with expensive dinners, and massages, tickets to seethe Nutcracker, and Lord knows what else. If I’d have known you all had such deep pockets, I’d have made you all buy gifts for the Foster kids up the street. Ya know what” She slapped on hand against the other, pointing at me as if I’d won some huge sweepstakes, “—that is a fantastic idea if I do say so myself. Scratch that. You all don’t need any more gifts for each other. You’re buying something for those kids. I heard all about them at the last garden club meeting. The state just pushes em off the plane and is like “figure out your parachute.” They have absolutely nothing. So, all of you can give them something.”

She seemed to have forgotten that she was the one that bought Presley the tickets on the holiday carriage ride. Not me. But my Secret Santa had purchased me a massage that I’d yet to use but looked very forward to imbibing in.

“Fitzy, I’m not feeling very festive. And I’m not ready to see Presley yet.”

Just thinking about seeing him sent my whole circulatory system into fits. Part of me thrilled at the prospect of seeing him again, part of me felt super ashamed that I’d let this stupid spat go on for so long, but part of me still clung tightly to that feeling of betrayal when I saw that news story.

“I’ve let you mope around here for days ignoring that poor man. Do you even notice him? He looks like a kicked dog. Every morning he walks past here, looking in with the most hopeful face. Waiting for you to look up and wave him in. And when you don’t, he just proceeds past and heads to work. And every night he leaves his house around nine o’clock and drives here, waiting for you to leave. Once you’ve locked up and you’re on your way home, he comes in just a few minutes behind you. And you’ve never noticed or acknowledged him. Either give him a chance to explain himself or put the man out of his misery. Because it’s obvious he cares about you. I’ve loved you since you were knee high, and even I wouldn’t go to the lengths that he has to take care of you.”

* * *

I put on a festive dress, curled my hair, and did my makeup. I should have felt wonderful. Beautiful even. Or at least the slightest bit festive. Instead, I felt raw, like my insides had been brushed with a Brillo pad. I took one last look in the mirror, before collecting my box of assorted gift cards and comfort items for the foster transition house. It wasn’t even fifteen steps to Fitzy’s house, yet it felt like miles.

“Oh good. At least you have enough sense to be on time.”

She practically yanked me into her apartment which was warmly decorated for the holidays. Her dining room was set with her best china, a wedding gift from her husband. There was just one problem.

“Why are there only three place settings, Fitzy?”

“Oh! Look at that, Presley was raised right too.” Fitzy called as she shuffled to the door, yanking it open with more enthusiasm than someone her age should have, “You’re right on time, sugar! Welcome to my humble abode. You know this lovely lady.”

She gestured in my direction, taking the gift bag from his hands and setting it on the couch behind her.

“Why don’t we sit. Food’s gonna get cold.”

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