Whenever I need to make appointments, I try to book them enough in advance so I can squeeze in as many as possible in one day. Not only does this give me an excuse to take a day off work, it also means I get a bunch of unpleasantness—namely the dentist and gynecologist—over with in the span of a few hours.
I made my appointments for December thirteenth long before I started working at Santa’s Village. While I was sure I would be finished before my shift started, I decided to book the entire day off. With Christmas less than two weeks away, the Village has been a madhouse. There seem to be nearly twice the usual number of people visiting daily. The place has been packed with kids hyped up on sugar, their harried parents, people shopping, and some people simply looking to soak up the Christmas spirit.
Meredith told me on Monday it would only get busier leading up to closing day on the twenty-second, so I figured for my sanity and the safety of the Village’s patrons it was a good idea to take a mental health day.
With my necessary appointments out of the way, I make a last minute booking to get my hair done, then stop in at the bookstore to visit Piper. I’ve been carrying my notebook with me everywhere the last few days, jotting down ideas as they come to me, so I take the opportunity to show her what I’ve come up with so far.
Her eyes light up as she pores over my notes. “These are amazing! Some of these are so simple, I don’t know why I didn’t think of them before.”
I can’t hide my pleased smile. “That’s why they pay me the big bucks.”
She laughs. “I don’t think I’ll be able to afford big bucks myself, but I’m definitely going to pay you. I’m still figuring some things out before I officially add you to the payroll.”
I leave the bookstore with a spring in my step and a smile on my face. I’m looking forward to a night on my own. Just me, Fiddlesticks, my Netflix queue, and the bag of salt and vinegar chips I bought at the convenience store next to the hair salon. Since it’s too early for dinner, I dismiss the idea of takeout and decide to order in later.
I’m surprised when I arrive home and find Celia at the apartment. For the first time in…well, ever…I’m not dismayed to see her, even if it means giving up my night of solitude. Things haven’t been perfect since our blow-up on Saturday, but I knew it would be a process. We’ve been talking more and spending more time together. Even though we’re still a bit careful with each other, it feels like progress. I believe Celia truly wants to make changes in her life, and it makes it easier for me to help her when everything I say is no longer greeted with eye rolls or snark.
Seeing her now, squatting in front of the small fake Christmas tree we picked up on Sunday, decked out in her full Grooge costume almost makes me laugh. “Are you reenacting a scene from How the Grinch Stole Christmas?” I ask. “There’s no chimney for you to disappear up.”
She whips around, her eyes going wide in her green-painted face. “Hey!” she says breathlessly, jumping to her feet. “I didn’t expect you home yet.”
“I didn’t expect you to be home at all,” I say, taking off my coat and boots. “Everything okay?”
“Oh, yeah, um…” She bends to pick up a wrapped package from under the tree, holding it half behind her back. “Peri asked me to go out again with her and some other people after work. She invited me to crash at her place, so I was just getting some things during my dinner break. She’s waiting downstairs.”
“That sounds like fun.” I eye her as I make my way to the kitchen. She’s acting weird. Twitchy.
“I’d invite you along, but I’m sure you’ll enjoy having the place to yourself for a night,” she says.
“You’re not trying to be gone because you think I want that, right?” I ask. “Because we talked about this, and I—”
“No, no, that’s not it,” she says, cutting me off. “It’s someone-or-other’s birthday today and Peri said they’ll probably be out late so I might as well sleep at her place instead of waking you up in the middle of the night. Honest.” She inches across the room. As she gets closer, I realize what she’s half hiding behind her back: a wrapped present. “I was going to leave this under the tree, and then I realized the cat might rip it to shreds. When you came in, I decided I don’t want to wait anyway, so…” She thrusts the package at me.
“Are you sure? Christmas is almost two weeks away. You can hide it in your room and I promise not to peek.”
One side of her mouth ticks up. Knowing Celia for as long as I have, this is one of the ways I know she’s trying; she’s never been a smiley person. She’s been doing it more lately, and even though they seem a bit rusty, as if she’s not accustomed to using those muscles, they’re a beautiful sight. “It’s okay. I have another gift to give you at Christmas. This is something you can be using now.”
My mouth almost pops open. She has whatever this is, plus something else for me? I hadn’t even thought about what to get her. I didn’t think we would exchange gifts since we never have before, and since things have been so contentious between us the last few months. Well, I mean they’ve always been contentious, but it’s been worse since she moved in with me.
Celia nudges my arm. I’ve completely spaced out, my eyes blindly staring at the sparkly red paper on the rectangular box in my hands. “Open it,” she says. “And hurry because Peri is waiting for me and I have to get back to Grooge duty.”
I set the box on the kitchen counter and lift the lid. Inside, folded neatly and nestled in a bed of white tissue paper is a burgundy wool sweater. It looks handmade, but unless Celia has secretly taken up knitting, she must have bought it. Something of this quality must have cost a fortune.
“It’s gorgeous.” My voice sounds croaky. I clear my throat and swallow hard; if it was anyone else, I wouldn’t be embarrassed to show emotion. With Celia, I’m afraid if I let so much as a tear slip, she’ll run for the door.
“The other day I passed a boutique downtown with a Scottish flag in the window and a thistle on the sign. I went in and this lady had all kinds of handmade things, plus stuff imported from Scotland.” She reaches for the sweater and fingers the hem. “I thought it would have some meaning, with Hugh being from Scotland. Plus it’s a step toward making up for all the sweaters I borrowed without asking and stretched out the sleeves. I promise not to borrow this one.”
I let out a watery laugh. I can’t stop the tears that spill down my cheeks. Celia stares at the sweater, avoiding my gaze. “I love it. This is one of the most thoughtful gifts anyone has ever given me.” I take the sweater from the box and hold it against my chest. “Thank you, Celia.”
Beneath her green makeup, her cheeks turn pink. “You’re welcome,” she mutters. “Glad you like it.”
I set the sweater down and take a step toward her. “Can I hug you?”
She scrunches her nose. “I-I guess. Just make it quick because I have to go. And be careful of my makeup, I don’t have time to redo it.”
I laugh, holding out my arms. “There’s the Celia I know and love.”
Her eyes widen slightly, then soften as a small smile flits over her face. She steps into my arms, giving me a quick, light hug. When she pulls away, she immediately heads for the door, scooping up a backpack I didn’t notice before. “Have a good night,” she says. “I’ll see you at some point tomorrow.”
“Yeah, see you. Have a good time. And thanks again for the sweater.”
She gives me a little wave and disappears out the door. I stay where I am for a few moments, admiring the sweater. It really is a thoughtful gift. In all the talking we’ve done over the last few days, neither of us has brought up what I said about falling for Hugh. I think she’s afraid to ask, and I haven’t brought it up again because I feel like if I talk to anyone about it, it should be Bridget. Most people would likely think it should be Hugh I’m saying it to, but I still don’t know if he’s staying or going. I don’t want to complicate things by throwing my feelings out there, especially since I haven’t really allowed myself to think too much about it.
Not wanting to lose my good-day buzz, I decide to take immediate advantage of my alone time. I head for the living room, where I turn on the stereo and start dancing. Fiddlesticks darts into the room, spots me bouncing around, and runs back out again. I bop over to the stereo to turn it up when “Mr. Brightside” by The Killers comes on. I become a dancing machine—arms flailing, legs kicking, hips rocking—all as I belt out the lyrics.
I do a little shimmy and hop around to face the other way. The words of the song are replaced by a blood-curdling scream when I realize someone is standing in the doorway. Hugh holds up his hands and I clutch at my chest, doubling over and laughing breathlessly. Despite wanting to run to my room and hide, I peek up at him. He’s still standing in the doorway, watching me with a mixture of amusement and affection. It’s the affection that makes my heart race even faster.
“You scared me,” I call, hurrying to turn the volume down.
“Sorry.” He steps inside and closes the door. “It wasn’t closed all the way. I knocked, but you didn’t hear me so I decided to just enjoy the show.”
I cover my flaming face with my hands. I forgot to make sure the door was locked when Celia left. I’m usually careful about things like that, despite this being a secure building. Thank god it was only Hugh at the door.
Soft footfalls move toward me. “That was a spectacular performance,” he says, gently prying my hands away from my face. “I’ll never be able to hear “Mr. Brightside” again without picturing that little shimmy thing you did.”
I’m about to apologize for the fact he can never unsee my spazzy dancing when it hits me why it’s strange to see him here. “How are you here? The Village is a madhouse this week.”
His smile falters almost imperceptibly. “I had a few meetings and some other things to take care of today,” he says. “I ran into Celia at the Village before I left and she said you’d be on your own for the night. She told me in a very wink-wink nudge-nudge sort of way.”
“She’s subtle, that one.” I wouldn’t have pegged Celia for the type to orchestrate a night alone for Hugh and me. I guess it shows she really is trying to change.
Hugh is still holding my hands in his, and he gives them a little jiggle. “Would you like to go out for dinner? I was thinking we could order in, but on the way over I realized we haven’t been on a proper date. Unless, of course, you really did want to spend the night on your own.”
“Pff, when I could spend it with you? Give me five minutes.” I grab the box with the wool sweater in it and dash to my room.