Page 10 of Booked for Christmas

“And I’d love to go to Tahiti for Christmas,” Quinn says, crossing her arms. Her brown eyes glint as she pushes the bright pink bubble gum through her lips and blows another bubble. It deflates with a loud snap, and she smiles devilishly at me. “Unfortunately, we don’t always get what we want, do we?”

I bite back a scathing remark as she sashays past me.

“Oh, and Jana?” Quinn calls over her shoulder. “Don’t mess this up.”

???

Standing outside Brooks Books for the second day in a row, I glare harshly at the neon light in the window proclaiming they’re open. This is not how I was planning to spend my afternoon, yet here I am. Cold air wraps around me, threatening to freeze me in my tracks if I don’t get inside soon. Steeling my resolve, I climb the three steps and push the door open.

A soft bell rings above my head and a teenager pops his head out from behind the counter.

“Hey, welcome to Brooks Books,” he says, a wide grin taking over his face. His blond hair is combed back, but it’s just long and unruly enough that it falls to either side in a very 90s style. He’s dressed in jeans and a band tee, a nametag pinned to his chest. I smile, glancing around in search of the man I came to talk to. “Can I help you find something specific?”

“I’m actually looking for someone who works here,” I say, unsure. “I met him here yesterday—Alex?”

“Oh yeah, sure!” the kid—I squint at his nametag—Zachary says, nodding enthusiastically. “Mr. Hall owns the store, but he’s not here today.”

Of course he owns the store.

“Oh, um…” I bite my lip, trying to think. I need to connect with him, preferably in public where he can’t murder me, and sooner rather than later. “Do you know if he’ll be back tonight?”

“Probably not,” Zachary says, glancing at the clock. It’s just after four o’clock. “But you might be able to catch him at Sandy’s.”

“Sandy’s?”

“Yeah, the girls love the fries there.”

Girls?

“Oh, okay. Thank you, Zachary.”

Chapter Seven

Alex

With my eyes closed, I can almost picture her hazel eyes and bright smile, her dark blonde hair flying out behind her as she runs through the field out behind the house, sunlight flitting through the dried grass and trees. But then, the chilly winter air hits, swiping me back into reality, and my eyes rest on a stone block, her name the only remnant of her.

Laura May Hall

Beloved Wife and Mother

April 12, 1990-November 30, 2021

Maddie stands in front of the headstone, holding the Christmas wreath in both hands, while Morgan clings to my leg. There are tears in both their eyes, the morbidity not lost on me. It’s been two years since she died, yet somehow, it feels like just yesterday.

“Okay, Maddie,” I say softly. “It’s time.”

My daughter looks up at me, Laura’s eyes staring back at me. I nod, and she drapes the wreath over the marker as Morgan lets out a little sob. The holidays are the hardest time of year for all of us. I inhale deeply, regulating my own emotions before crouching to meet her.

“Hey, squirt,” I say, giving her a big hug. She burrows her face into my chest, her little arms wrapping around my neck in a vice-like grip. “Are you missing Mama?”

Her head bobs against me, and I meet Maddie’s sad eyes behind her. This was never something we planned for. I struggle to find the words to comfort my girls as the winter air whips around us. I could tell her that Laura wouldn’t want her to cry, but that seems harsh. The thought of easing their pain with words of wisdom from their mother comes, so I open my mouth to share.

Mama will always be with you.

“Yeah, I miss her, too.” It’s not what I wanted to say, but the words seem to soothe the sobbing five-year-old in my arms. “Mama loves you both very much. She willalwayslove you.”

“Why did Mama have to leave, Daddy?” Maddie asks, huddling beside Laura’s headstone. Her words strike my heart, opening the wound I’ve been fighting to keep closed for the last two years. I hold my arm out, and she runs into my embrace, pressing her cold nose against my neck.

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