Page 21 of All in for Christmas

I scurry toward the kitchen and Dean peers at me as I scuttle away. I run the kitchen tap water cold and splash some on my face. Nod, nod, nod. Nod! What does Mom see in him? Maybe that he’s agreeable?

Oh my goodness. I dry my face with a hand towel.

Dab at my neck and brow. Maybe I should have worn a long-sleeve T-shirt and not a sweater.

Who knew meeting Roger would be so taxing?

It’s not that he’s not a nice man. It’s more like it’s hard to tell what sort of person he is.

Getting to know him is like pulling teeth.

Another idea occurs. It’s possible he simply doesn’t like talking about himself. There are people like that.

I prepare my coffee and fix some for Dean.

He takes his with cream but no sugar. I noticed that yesterday morning.

My view roves to the advent calendar and the poinsettia piece Eleanor added today.

No. That can’t mean anything. Silly. Still.

It is odd, when you think about it. If I can prove the calendar’s making magic about the future, Dean will have to believe me about how I got here.

When I return to the living room, Dean and Roger are laughing .

“This guy’s a stitch!” Dean says, motioning toward Roger.

“Is he?” I hand Dean his coffee.

“Roger was just telling me about his houseboat.”

Wait. The man spoke in full sentences, and I missed it? “Oh! I’d love to hear about that too!” I enthusiastically tell Roger. “Would you mind repeating?”

Mom leaps in. “Roger said he’s ready to chart his own destiny now. Take charge as the captain. Set out on the sea of life!”

My jaw drops. “Roger said all that?” I ask Dean.

“Well, no.” Dean rubs the side of his neck. “Not directly.” He casts a look at my mom. “Now that you mention it, Rosemary told me. But!” Dean smiles. “She was merely repeating what Roger told her earlier. Isn’t that right, Roger?”

Roger—nods.

My teeth clench, hard . Ow.

“Well, Roger,” I say. “That’s quite an ambition. To retire to a houseboat.” I try to keep my tone airy, light. “Have you had this dream for a while?”

He nods and I stare at him stone-faced, trying hard not to scream.

“For the past five years,” Mom tells me and Dean. “And now?” She latches onto his arm, leaning toward him. “He’s wanting to share that dream with me, aren’t you, honey bunch?”

Dean and I silently mouth to each other, Honey bunch?

“I like honey!” Eleanor pipes up from by the cabinet. She’s done fine work building a house. Henry’s not making anything in particular. He’s just snapping and unsnapping pieces and having a great time with it, apparently.

“Oh yes.” Mom drags a hand down Roger’s arm and says in sultry tones, “Me too.”

I try not to look grossed out. I reach for the treat plate and shove it under her face. “Cookie?”

“All right.” She picks up a snickerdoodle and I extend the plate to Roger. He takes a sandwich cookie, and nods .

My smile’s so tight it pinches. “You’re welcome.” I set the plate on the coffee table and return to my seat on the sofa.

“So Roger,” Dean says. “How long have you had this houseboat?”

Roger holds up a hand, pumping his fingers.

“Five years?” Dean guesses.

Roger pins his thumb to his palm.

“Four?” Dean tries again.

Roger nods and Dean stares at me helplessly. Now he’s getting it. I widen my eyes at him and Dean stifles a chuckle. That makes me giggly, too. I purse my lips and finally ask Mom, “You didn’t mean it, did you? About moving to Wilmington?”

“Oh yes!” She preens prettily and fusses with her curls. “I can’t wait. Roger, too. Isn’t that right, honey bunch?”

He nods.

Oh wow.

“And when is this happening?” Dean asks her and Roger.

“The day after Christmas, on Friday,” Mom answers for them.

At least that gives me some time to try to talk her out of it.

Not a ton of time, but I’ll take what I can get, in either reality.

Ooh, I hope, hope, hope this isn’t happening in the other world.

Am I even there, or did my disappearance leave a great big hole?

My heart seizes up. Poor Mom! She must be frantic in that case, worrying that I’ve gone missing.

Did I skip our lunch at Beaumont’s? Will she be okay on Christmas Day?

I roll my eyes toward Roger, wondering if he’s the kind of man who can be two places at once.

I didn’t know I had that capability until recently.

And maybe I don’t. Maybe there’s only one me and I’ve left the other realm for this one, and Mom is texting and texting my phone.

Calling and fretting when I don’t answer.

My heart aches. I can’t do that to Mom there . But I’m also worried about her here .

Oh my goodness, this is unnerving.

Roger finishes his sandwich cookie and sets his mug on the coffee table. “So, Paige.” Two whole words! “And Dean.” Four. “Rosemary says you’re teachers?”

Hallelujah! The skies part and angels sing.

The man speaks. I was seriously starting to doubt.

Dean nods. Oh nooo, it’s catching. “Physics.”

I try not to move my head. Or chin. Stare straight at Roger. “I’m a staff.” Wait. That came out wrong.

“Which kind?” Roger asks. The man is conversing . Okay. Maybe I judged him too quickly. And maybe it’s that he doesn’t like talking about himself. He seems to do better when the attention centers on others.

“I work for the principal, Missy Peabody.”

“Drives an old Cadillac?”

Dean nods , then winces at me like he didn’t mean it. “That’s right.” He sips from his mug. “Did you work on her car?”

Roger nods.

I try to be grateful for the minor progress we’ve made.

“Will you look at the time!” Mom says brightly.

We all turn toward the clock. It’s nearly eleven, but they haven’t been here that long.

“Roger and I have got to get going if we’re going to make it to church.

” Mom has never set foot in a church for as long as I’ve known her, meaning my entire life.

When she and Roger stand, she grabs his arm and says, “I just love the Christmas hymns this time of year.”

“Those are nice,” Dean concurs. I know his family are all regular churchgoers, but I’m not sure where we stand on things.

“Paige and I generally take the kids to the Christmas Eve service with the pageant.” That answers it.

“Eleanor’s an angel this year and Henry’s a shepherd.

” I’m stunned Henry has any kind of role at all, at his tender age.

I hope he doesn’t go asking others at the manger about their wee-wees.

“Oh yes!” Mom says like she’s aware of this event. “We’ll be there. We wouldn’t miss it. Would we, Roger?” Her eyes twinkle at Roger and he—

I shut my eyes briefly then open them, help Dean escort Mom and Roger to the door. “Thanks for coming by, and thanks so much for the pretty poinsettia,” I tell Roger.

I hold my breath and brace myself for another nod.

Dean looks like he’s doing the same.

At long last, Roger bows his head.

Then, mercifully, they go. Before the door shuts, Mom leans back in and stares at me. “You and I will have to catch up!” I guess she wants to talk about Roger and ask how I resolved things with Dean. “Maybe coffee before Christmas?”

“Coffee before Christmas sounds good!”

“We can meet at that cute place, Cuppa Joe, the morning of the twenty-fourth. Eleven o’clock? You’ll be off from work then.”

“Sure, it’s a date!”

I fall back against the closed door and blow out a breath.

“Oh. My. Goodness.”

Dean nods, nods, nods. “I know.”

“Do you think the nodding was a nervous tic?” I whisper so the kids don’t hear.

Dean shrugs. “Guess your mom finds him easy to get along with.”

I shove his shoulder and laugh. “Oh boy. What are we going to do, Dean?”

“Us?” he answers solidly. “Nothing.”

“But Dean, we can’t let Mom—”

“Paige.” He gently holds my face in his hands. “She looks happy to me.”

I sigh because the truth hurts my heart. “Yeah,” I admit hoarsely. “To me too.” I glance out the window as their car drives away. “But how can she stand it?”

He kisses me on the lips and his affection calms me. “Different strokes?” He chuckles. “Seems like they get along.” I know what he says is true. Still. I don’t get it.

I stare up into his very dark eyes, shining like I mean the world to him.

It’s amazing to believe he feels that way, and wrenching to know deep in my heart I don’t really belong here.

I need to find that vendor at the holiday market, the woman dressed like Mrs. Claus and learn—once and for all—what’s going on.

I trudge through the snowdrifts, winding my neck scarf around me.

The colorful lights of the holiday market glimmer in the distance, distinguishing the tented town square area through the gloom.

I parked on a side street because the two busy parking lots in the quaint downtown area were jammed full.

Two smaller tents and one large one form a U shape framing our town Christmas tree, which stands facing the courthouse, its widespread limbs adorned with shiny white lights.

An outdoor skating rink is stationed in front of it, and skaters link hands, gliding across the ice.

My boots leave tracks on the sidewalk as I hurry along, crossing the street at the corner.

No crosswalk or light. This is Piney Mount, North Carolina, population five thousand.

We’ve got one stoplight at the edge of town where Main Street joins the bypass.

It’s midafternoon with dusk closing in, the twinkling lights of the market glowing brighter as darkness falls.