Page 78 of Mad About Yule

“You released it without measuring, and we all know how accurate eyeballing it is.”

I rinse my hands while Mom covers the rolls to rise one last time. “You just don’t want to admit your fish was barely a centimeter over the legal limit.”

Mom raises her hands between us, exasperated. “Boys, are we back to fighting over whose fish is bigger?”

Caleb and I share a look. We’re both trying not to burst out laughing at her unintended innuendo.

“Mine’s bigger,” I say before he can open his mouth.

He shakes his head at me. “You’re a child.”

“Stop, you two,” Mom says. “Or I’ll put you both in time out chairs like I did when you were little.”

I have a lot of memories of being in that chair.

She takes each of our hands, looking from me to him with shiny eyes. “You two were always trouble, but we never wanted it any other way.”

A lump leaps straight into my throat, my eyes stinging. I slow my breathing, but if her tears fall, I’ll crumble away.

“I’m grateful you’re my boys.” She smiles at each of us, but her gaze sticks on me. “No matter what you do or where you go.”

“We’re not going anywhere.” Caleb leans down to wrap her up into a hug.

“You’re stuck with us.” I hug her, too, but when she pulls away, she’s got so much meaning in her eyes, I feel like I might need to sit down in the living room with Rowan.

I’ve never said a word about missing my old job, never hinted I wanted anything other than what I’ve got with them and McBride’s. But the way she’s watching me, it’s like she’s peeked into my head and sifted through my thoughts.

I hit her with my own serious look. If she thinks I plan to do anything other than prove my love and loyalty to this family, she can go right on thinking. I’m sticking with them, no matter what.

TWENTY-SEVEN

HOPE

If someone wereto dust my back, they’d see my mom’s fingerprints all over it.

I showed up early to help with the Thanksgiving cooking. We peeled, sliced, and prepared all morning. We ate a meal of too much food split among too little company. And Mom has kept the conversation going all day with her never-ending questions about Griffin, my work, and my festival.

At least when Lila’s here, she helps divide some of that relentless focus.

“I’ve been nosing around a little,” Mom says.

I snort into my glass of wine, becausehas she ever. We’re lounging around in their living room, absently watching the parade rerun until our stomachs have room for dessert. Dad’s half asleep, God bless him, but Mom’s wide awake.

“Crystalline isn’t renewing their lease,” she continues. “Thea’s moving to Ashland this summer to be with her family. You might be in a position to take over that space by then.”

The gift shop-slash-reiki practice sells a huge collection of crystals, incense, and salt lamps. I stop in once in a while to browse their unusual tea collection, but I had no idea she was thinking of closing her store, let alone leaving town.

“It’s in a great location, but I don’t think that space is right for The Painted Daisy.” Crystalline has at least three times the floor space I have now, plus one or two treatment rooms in the back. “I kind of like being small.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to have a little breathing room, at least. I don’t see how you have space for new merchandise as it is.”

True, I don’t have much extra room. But I also get to hand pick everything I opt to sell, and so far, I haven’t had a problem making space for anything I wanted to bring into the store. Anyway, I might waste away into nothing without the steady stream of treats from Blackbird’s.

“I don’t know what I’d do with that much floor space.” Not to mention the price tag that must come with it. I’m well aware I sublet my space from Wren’s mom at a steal. Crystalline’s lease amount would probably give my savings account a heart attack.

Kind of makes me wonder why more people don’t go into reiki.

“You could spread out what you have now. Make it less…” She waves a hand in the air. “Cluttered.”

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