Page 33 of All in for Christmas

Eleanor shouts and raises her fists in glee. “Gammy and Poppi are here!” She bounces on her heels by the front door, having peered out the window by the rocker.

Henry toddles up to the door. “Gammy! Poppi!”

We all heard their SUV’s door shut in the drive.

Dean opens the door, and the middle-aged couple appears, dressed in winter coats and hats. Only Poppi’s hat looks like Santa’s and Gammy wears a green elf hat.

“Hel-lo!” Gammy grins around the room. “Good to see everyone.”

Dean hugs his mom and one-arm hugs his dad. “Thanks for watching the kids.”

Gammy rolls her eyes. “As if you have to ask!” Dean takes her coat and she’s fashionably dressed in nice camel-colored slacks and a cream-colored sweater. She’s got short dark hair and Dean’s dark brown eyes. “Paige!” She hugs me tightly. “It’s been a while.”

I pull back to smile at her. She looks good and hasn’t aged a bit in the past six years. “Yeah, it has.”

“When was it?” she asks. “The week before last at the pageant rehearsal?”

“Ah, yep! Must have been then.”

Dean’s dad, Jack, hugs me, his coat draped over one arm.

“Paige, always good to see you.” He’s gone salt and pepper around the temples and has Dean’s same deep dimple on his left cheek.

His eyes are lighter brown than those of Dean’s mom, Miriam.

Jack’s kept himself fit and is shorter than Dean, with him and Miriam being nearly the same height, around five foot ten.

Scout excitedly bounds between us and Miriam bends down to scratch him behind his collar. “Hey there, boy! Have you been behaving yourself for Santa?”

Scout sits back on his haunches to reply. “ Woof! Woof! ”

“He has!” Dean says as Jack fondly pats Scout’s side.

“Scout’s always been a good boy,” Jack says. “Ever since he was just a pup.”

Dean hangs up their coats and the kids throw themselves at their grandparents.

“Who do we have here?” Jack asks, scooping Eleanor up in his arms. “Is this a Christmas elf?” He thumbs her nose, leaning his face closer to hers. “Or are you the Grinch?” he asks in fake grumpy tones.

She giggles and whispers, all raspy voiced, “I’m the Grinch!”

“Are you really?”

He playfully tickles her side. “Poppi!” She cackles. “ Stop. ”

Miriam holds Henry, jostling him in her arms. “How about you, young man? Are you ready for Santa?”

He presses his sweet baby forehead to hers and whispers, “Merry Kissmas.”

“Oh my goodness!” She throws back her head and roars. “You,” she tells Henry, “are adorbs.”

The group makes its way into the main living area near the sofa and love seat. Dean’s built a fire, and it burns brightly. “I’ve put in the order for the pizza,” he tells his dad. He reaches for his wallet in his hip pocket, but his dad stops him.

“Don’t even think about it.” Jack holds up his hand. “Tonight’s on us.”

“Well, thanks, Dad.” Dean pats his shoulder. Nods toward the hearth. “Extra logs over there in the holder if you’d like to keep it going.”

Miriam snuggles Henry closer. “Everything’s so nice and cozy.” She admires the Christmas tree. “Beautiful tree this year.”

“Thanks!” Dean and I say together, because the house does look very nice and festive now that the living area’s all picked up.

Miriam glances at our clothing. “You two run along and get ready. We’ll hold down the fort with the kids.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Dean says.

“This is such a great pleasure for us,” Miriam’s declares. “Really!”

Eleanor stares up at her grandpa. “Want to see our ’day calendar?”

His forehead furrows seriously. “My, that sounds intriguing.”

I laugh. “That’s our advent calendar.”

“Aha!” Meriam speaks cheerfully to the boy. “Shall we take a look, Henry?”

He claps his hands together. “O-tay!”

Dean takes my hand and tugs me toward the bedroom. “Reservation’s at six-thirty.”

“You never told me where we’re going?”

“Riazzi’s.”

“Ooh, fancy.” It’s the nicest Italian place in town, farm to table with house-made pasta.

His grin melts my heart.

“Nothing’s too good for my girl.”

Ten minutes later, I’ve gotten on my Spanx. Oh my goodness, that was work, but worth it. I admire my reflection in the bathroom mirror. Stand up on my tiptoes to check my image front and back. All super smooth, no bulges. Only sexy-looking curves.

I open the door to the bedroom, where Dean stands putting on his necktie.

“Wow,” he says when I walk in. “You look—amazing.” Tingles shimmy down my spine to my toes and I enjoy the glow.

I love being appreciated by Dean. He makes me feel special, no matter what I wear.

But the way he’s looking at me now makes me feel extra glamorous.

I sashay out of the bathroom, staring at my great-looking husband in charcoal gray dress slacks and a white button-down shirt. “You clean up pretty well yourself.”

He kisses me firmly on the lips. “Thank you.” Dean finishes knotting his crimson necktie and flattens it down against his starched shirt.

This one clearly didn’t come from the laundry basket.

He’d concealed it and his nice suit in a laundry bag in his closet.

So we evidently visit the dry cleaners sometimes.

I glance at our piles of laundry. Although it’s clearly not a general habit.

Deans lifts his suit jacket off the bed. “Ready?”

I grab my purse off the dresser, my heart feeling happy and light. “I am.”

Dean’s reserved us the best table in the house.

It’s a special two-top nestled in a bay window overlooking the street.

We can see the town square from here and the glowing lights of the holiday market.

The town square Christmas tree and the ice skating rink are in the distance, and passels of skaters crowd the ice.

Occasional people pass by on the shoveled sidewalk in front of us, families and couples huddled together against the cold.

But it’s cozy indoors in our very romantic spot.

A bottle of Chianti sits on the table and we both hold full wineglasses. I lift my glass and hold it up toward Dean. “This is so nice, thank you.” As awesome as our family is, it’s a treat to be out alone with my handsome husband.

He lifts his wineglass as well. “Here’s to us.”

“To us!”

We clink glasses and sip from our wine. We’ve both ordered yummy-sounding dishes. I got pasta Alfredo and Dean, the chicken piccata.

I note the candle on the table between us.

“Dean,” I say, and he sees what I’m staring at.

The tall red taper sits in a white candle holder that includes a holly design with green ceramic leaves and red berries on its base.

It looks exactly like the holiday candle on our advent calendar.

The one we put up this morning for Day Twenty-Three.

“That’s—got to be coincidental.” Dean looks up and meets my eyes.

“Like the snowman, you mean?”

He rubs his neck. “Not as sure about those ice skates, though.” He darts a glance out the window at the ice skating rink, and I do the same.

“Or, the poinsettia,” I remind him, thinking of Mom and Roger’s surprise delivery.

He chuckles warmly. “Okay, you’ve got me there.” He takes another sip of wine and sets down his glass. “Maybe that lady dressed like Mrs. Claus was the real deal?” But he sounds like he’s joking.

“I spoke with her, you know. Mary Christmas.”

“Wait, seriously? Merry Christmas? That was her name?”

I wryly twist my lips. “M-A-R-Y Christmas, yes.”

“Aha.” He shakes his head. “When was this?”

“On Sunday, while I was out running errands. I asked her about our advent calendar and its supposed properties.”

Dean takes a piece of bread from the basket on the table and butters it. “And?”

“She was very mysterious , hinting that the magic of our calendar might end on Christmas Day, but that the magic of Christmas will live on.”

“Hmm. Intriguing.”

“Maybe there is something to that special advent calendar. I wouldn’t put it past that Christmas decoration changing a life or two around here.” I wait to see how he reacts.

Dean chuckles and takes a bite of his bread. “Sure.”

Darn. Well, I’m not going to hint I want to scrub our life again. That’s for certain. I select some bread for myself. It looks and smells freshly baked and is still warm. I slather my piece with butter too and taste it. “Mmm, this is delicious.”

He munches on his bread as well. “The best.

“So wait,” he asks suddenly. “What were you doing at the holiday market?” Dean snaps his fingers. “Oh right. Buying presents for the kids.”

“And Scout. I got something for him, too.”

“That’s very thoughtful.”

I think of the consignment shop, Second Chances, on the far side of the square.

Though we can’t see it from here, I know precisely where it is.

I wish with all my might that the telescope is still in its front window, or at least available and for sale.

I’ll try the store first thing in the morning when it opens.

There’s nothing I’d love more than buying that telescope for Dean.

“Paige, speaking of change… I wanted to talk to you about something.” He shifts in his seat, appearing anxious. “And I hope you won’t think I’m overstepping.”

That doesn’t sound good. “Is something wrong? Did I—?”

“Sweetheart, no.” He reaches out and takes my hand. “You’ve done everything right. That’s just the thing.” He seems to gather his nerve. “You remember the other day when we were talking about changes? You said you didn’t like them, and I know that about you. But then I said—”

“It’s different when the change is for the good?”

“Yeah, that.” I fall into his gaze, considering the tremendous leap I’ve made in entering this reality.

After the initial bout of disorientation, I’ve found my way in the woods.

And it’s not dark and scary here. It’s a happy and protected place.

An existence where I feel heard and sheltered.

It’s getting harder and harder to imagine ever wanting to leave.

He swallows hard. “So. Here’s what I’ve been thinking.”