Page 28 of A Very Merry Mistake

“What brand of beans?” She inhales again.

I pull the gold-and-red plastic bag from the cabinet and hand it to her. After she studies the label, she returns her attention to me. “It’s local?”

“Yeah. They’ve been roastin’ their own beans for decades. Their coffee shop and warehouse are at the edge of town. Can’t miss it if you’re lookin’ for it.”

She seems as if she’s searching through her memories. “Oh, I think I saw it. They have the Welcome to Merryville mural painted on the side of their building.”

“Yeah, they do. The Santa scene. It used to be different, though. That one was revealed a few years ago during…”

“The celebration of Christmas in July,” we say in unison.

I look at her. “You know a lot about Merryville.”

She takes another drink, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say she’s trying to avoid the conversation, but then she answers.

“I have this thing where I memorize weird facts about places, the most random things that people don’t even care to read in the first place. A lot of the Merryville facts are engrained in memory. I’ve been intrigued with this place since I was a kid.”

“Really? Did you love Christmas?”

“I used to. Until my mother passed away.”

My face softens, and I reach forward and touch her hand. She doesn’t pull away.

“I’m sorry.”

“Nah, it’s fine. It was over twenty years ago.”

“So what?” I tell her. “A person just doesn’t get over it because time has passed, especially losing someone so close to you at a young age. It must’ve been hard.”

“It was, and you’re right. I’m so used to dismissing what I went through that now it’s a habit. My dad is the let’s-hurry-up-and-move-on type. He’s been married three times since then.”

“Three times?”

She nods. “He can’t seem to find the one. I think he’s searching for the wrong things in women, but who am I to judge? Not the best person when it comes to relationships.” She stares into the bottom of her cup. “I’m more like my father than I like to admit at times.”

“Kids mimic things. You’re an adult now. You have choices. Decisions. If you don’t want to be like him, you’re free to do whatever it is that you want.”

She laughs, but it comes out almost sarcastic.

I lift a brow because it’s obvious that she’s not convinced. “It’s true. Once you stop trying to prove yourself to other people and put yourself first, you’ll be a lot happier in life. I learned that the hard way.”

I stir cool milk with the hot liquid, then shoot it back in one big gulp. Just as I’m getting ready to brew another one, the lights shut off. The motor in the fridge quiets, and everything is still.

“Please tell me you have a generator?” She grabs the cup between her hands, concern on her face.

“Yeah,” I tell her. “But it only runs the fridge.” On cue, the motor clicks back on. I go to my bedroom and grab my phone so I can do a quick internet search on the power outage situation. It looks like the entire town is dealing with this at the moment.

“What?” she asks. “I don’t like that expression.”

“Could be longer than a week.”

“I thought your friend said days.” Her voice goes up an octave toward the end.

“Hey. Look at me,” I say. “Come on, CeCe.”

It takes her a few seconds, but she does. “Those glasses.”

“Your kryptonite?”

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