I wasn't a fan of the holidays.
But Ididlike the sound of her voice and the look in her eyes as she talked about her family. Or maybe I just likedher.I'd been missing Lexie more than I'd been willing to admit, and to find her here on my doorstep felt like a holiday miracle, assuming I believed in such a thing.
She finished by saying, "But I'mreallysorry – about the wreath and for not telling you where I lived. I meant to tell you. And I almost did like a dozen times. But then I kept putting it off. And the longer I put it off, the more I dreaded telling you at all."
From the look in her eyes, she meant it – although I still didn't get the logic. "But why?"
"Well…if I'm being totally honest, I guess I was embarrassed."
"About what?"
"My job mostly."
"At the candy store?" I said. "Why would you be embarrassed? You told me you loved it."
"Idolove it," she said. "But it's only part-time, and the pay…" She gave a shaky laugh. "Well, it's not terrific."
This didn't mesh with what I'd already heard. I felt my eyebrows draw together. "But you said it was a good job."
"Itisgood," she said. "For something part-time, especially compared tootherholiday jobs." She tried for another laugh. "Like there was this cookie delivery gig…you don't wanna know whatthatpaid."
I was still thinking of the candy store. "And the benefits?"
"At my current job?" she said. "Well…if you count the benefit of making people happy, they're amazing. I mean, who doesn't love candy, right? But it's not like I haveregularbenefits, like sick time or health insurance."
I shook my head. "But the way you talked—"
"I was an idiot, okay? I just didn't want to sound pathetic. Youdoremember the day I quit, right?"
I gave her a wry smile. "Trust me. It's not something I'd forget."
"Me neither," she said, not looking too happy about it. "But at the time, I figured I'd find another job right away – arealjob, full-time with benefits. But I didn't, which was bad enough. But then I spottedyouliving right across the street, and…" Her words trailed off into silence as she turned and looked toward her aunt's place.
"And…?" I prompted.
She turned back and chewed on her bottom lip. "Well…mostly, I was worried that you'd laugh at me."
At this, I almostdidlaugh. "Laugh at you?"
"Sure. And even if you didn't laugh out loud, you'd still think I'd been a fool to walk out like that – at my job, I mean."
I couldn’t deny it.Or rather, I couldn’t denyallof it, so all I said was, "I wouldn’t have laughed."
"Yeah, but you still would've thought I was foolish." Her shoulders slumped. "And to be fair, I guess you'd have a point."
Something warm tugged at my heart, not because she'd just admitted that I was right, but because she was here at all –andwith information that changed everything. I fought the urge to smile as I replied, "I would've, huh?"
"Yes, but only on the career front. I mean, sure, it was a mistake to quit before I found another job, but it still felt like the right thing to do."
And there it was – not just the loyalty, but the guts to do something about it, even at a significant cost to herself. I heard myself say, "Because of Grampkin."
Her chin lifted. "Yes, in fact."
"So that's your confession?"
"More or less."
She looked so sweet that I wanted to bundle her in my arms and kiss away her concerns. But I didn't, because first, there was something she deserved to know.
