He scrawled a heart next to his name. I pick up my phone and squint at the time. It’s almost 8:00. Thatissleeping in for me, and I feel awake and amazing. I grab a quick shower and head down to the café.
We always open later on Sundays, but on Christmas Eve, my night baker and Celia both come in at 6 AM to start baking and preparing the goodies people will stop in for all day to round out their Christmas feasts.
Or at least, they will until we close at 3:00 so we can all enjoy Christmas Eve with our families.
I grin when I spot Levi behind the counter in an apron. Even more interesting, his parents are sitting at a table enjoying some coffee and croissants.
“Morning, Taylor,” Mrs. Taft says.
“When we realized Levi hadn’t come home last night, we thought we’d stop by here to see what he was up to,” Dr. Taft adds. Loudly.
Celia stifles a giggle, and every head in a six-foot radius turns to watch me redden.
“Knock it off, Dad,” Levi says without any heat.
“You owe me double for your breakfast,” I tell Dr. Taft, and Mrs. Taft gives me a wink and a nod as he chuckles.
I walk around the counter to press a kiss to Levi’s cheek. “I love that you’re helping.”
“Whatever you need,” he says, smiling as he rings up a bag of bread stuffing. It will be our biggest seller today.
“If you mean it . . .”
He looks up, his eyes alert. “What do you need?”
“You mind going over to my parents’ house and listening to their strategizing for what to do about Rome’s Christmas wish?”
“Would you rather go?” he asks.
“Yeah, but . . .” I wave at the nearly full café. “It’s going to stay like this until we close.”
“It’s okay, I got it,” he says. “I can’t make a decent cup of coffee to save my life, but I’ve got the rest of it down okay. Right, Celia?”
“It’s true,” she says. “He’s a fast learner.”
I look at him, and I love that I’m not surprised. Not surprised he’s a quick study, and not surprised that he’d do this for me. “I’d love that. Thank you.”
“Of course. Go.” And he gives me a loud kiss on the forehead.
“Surely you can do better than that,” his dad complains.
“I’ll never tell,” I say to Dr. Taft as I hurry into the back. “See you tonight!” The Tafts have always been part of our Christmas Eve tradition.
I drive to my parents’ house and walk in to find the boys zoned out in front of a Disney show. Sara and my parents are at the kitchen table, speaking in low voices.
I pour myself a cup of coffee and join them. “Is there a plan?” I’m pretty sure I already know the answer from the way Sara is slouched over her mug, not touching it.
“Maybe,” my mom says. “We’ve probably come up with the best Plan B possible.”
“Oh, I have faith in you. We should have put you and Mrs. Taft on this. The two women who conspired to make us believe we were indefinitely stranded in a cabin without electricity are unstoppable.”
Sara looks up. “What?”
My mom sips her coffee. “Don’t know what you’re talking about. You act like we made that blizzard happen.”
I roll my eyes and smirk at Sara. “We would have beaten that blizzard to the motel near the farm, but these two boo-hooed about how worried they were and made us promise to stay at the cabin and head out again the next morning.”
I lean forward, my voice conspiratorial, ignoring my parents. “We can’t prove it, but we’re pretty sure they got the Tafts’ cabin’s neighbor in on it, so he messed with the power.”
