“Harry, dear, maybe you can wait until we can get you someone to help. What about those teenagers last year? They worked out well, right? I can give those same boys a call,” my mother calls out as I bite down hard on my lip.
“You can do whatever you like, but I’m not waiting,” he grumbles as he steps around on the roof.
“Does he not remember that he has—” I raise my voice loud enough for him to hear me “—knee problems?”
I hear himscoff.
“You know he and Davison have a long-standing feud over decorations in the neighborhood. It’s been going on since, well, forever. But it feels like the older they get, the pettier they are. You just wait until the trash talking over coffee every morning starts,” my mother sighs good naturedly. “Sometimes I wish that storage shed with all the decorations would just catch fire. This time of year would be so much more peaceful.”
I spit out some of my cocoa. Dad has always been competitive, in every way possible. He loves Christmas and makes toys through his custom woodworking shop so I’m not surprised by his behavior. Davison, on the other hand, is an attorney with a very serious demeanor. I always thought he was the mean neighbor. But put a string of lights in logical male hands and they turn back into teenage boys. They always have to one-up each other.
“You know if the shed did somehow catch fire, he would just upgrade everything.”
“You’re probably right,” she laughs. “I do find it endearing how much he loves this holiday. Just don’t tell him I said that. I have never had to do anything for Christmas but cook, which is my love language, so I don’t mind. He always takes care of the rest even though it’s his busiest season.”
“And I love to eat, so it works out great for me,” I tell her with a smile as I let loose a deep sigh. “You know, when I was a kid and had all these big dreams of life out there in the world, I never thought I would be this happy moving back home running a small bookshop. I did everything I thought would make me happy, traveling for work and almost marrying Daniel, and I do have some wonderful memories from both. But I’m grateful to slow down, focus on time with family, and build a new little community here at the bookstore. It feels like a big weight has been lifted off my shoulders.”
“Don’t get too comfortable,” Nonna says as she pops her head out the front door. “I intend to find you a date for Christmas.” She sits down in the chair next to me.
“Nonna, absolutely not.”
“Oh, honey, it’s time to get back out there. You aren’t getting any younger, you know.”
“Mom?” I whisper, pleading for her help to talk some sense into Nonna.
“I don’t disagree with her,” she says, shrugging.
“Mother!”
Nonna takes my hand. “Janie, dear, you aren’t heartbroken over Daniel. You two just weren’t meant to be, and that’s okay.”
My mind returns to Andrew. I felt more in thirty-six hours with him than I did in two years with Daniel. We’ll probably never cross paths again, but the thought of him dating any woman sours my stomach.
“Is there someone you have on your mind?” Nonna looks at me with raised eyebrows.
I scrunch mine together. She has an intuition about these things. It’s annoying. “Not a someone but a something. I have a new business to run, and with the holidays, my time will be limited.”
“Ja—”
I cut off my mom before she can counter. “If Mr. Wonderful walks into the bookstore, I promise I’ll get his number. But other than that, can we postpone any matchmaking until after the new year?”
Nonna squints her eyes at me. This conversation most definitely is not over. I glance at Mom, whose eyebrows are raised like she knows Nonna has more to say too. I take a deep breath.
“Alright,” Nonna says, matter-of-factly.
My head whips to her in surprise. “Alright?”
“Yes, alright.”
I better keep an eye on her. She’s acting suspicious. There’s no way she could know something happened this weekend, right?
I shake my head, dislodging the thought. No one knows, not even Andrew. I didn’t give him my real name, or tell him where I lived. We were two strangers enjoying each other’s company, two ships passing in the night.
“Just keep an open mind. Your father and I met at a gas station. He was pumping gas on the other side of me. The perfect man could come to you in the strangest way possible,” Mom says with a hopeful look.
Yeah, like he could’ve double-booked the same rental for a holiday. Now, that would have been the best romance story ever. But our story ended the minute I pulled out of the driveway. Still, a small part of me wishes that he had walked away with more than my fake name and the memory of that weekend. Why couldn’t I just write a note with my phone number? I’m a total chicken.
I wonder what he’s doing now. He’s probably back at work, solving crimes. Telling people of the crazy journalist he got stuck with over the weekend, or not saying anything at all because it was just a small blip in his life.
