"I'M NOT available right now, but if you leave a message, I'll get back to you soon. Have a Happy Christmas." Then there was a pause. "I know I say that every day, but tonight is for real. May you have a fantastic one and may all your wishes come true. Love, Zoe."
Nat hung up and leaned back against the driver's seat. She'd already left several messages. It looked like her friend was out for the night.
That was understandable. It was, after all, Christmas Eve. Actually, it was almost Christmas Day.
She sighed, and got out of her truck. It was getting cold inside the vehicle.
Also, it was time to get out of the street. Her neighbors would soon head out to Midnight Mass and she didn't want to be around to answer any questions.
That was the problem with living in Evergreen Shores.
Her neighborhood was lovely, but it was gossip central. Nothing like a bunch of small houses placed close together to foster a feeling of community, and the free flowing of personal information.
The subdivision was not as posh as Boughberry Estates, where the Grand Lodge was situated, and it had much smaller lots and modest ranch houses, which made it affordable. But it also had impressive pine trees and a lovely lake beach, which was a prime viewing spot for the town's New Year's and Fourth of July fireworks shows.
Her house was a few minutes away from the beach on the east side of the lake, so she had around-the-clock access to Holiday Lake's various Christmas-themed water-ski shows during the summer. Right now, the lake was frozen solid with a handful of fishing huts dotting the ice.
Ah, Minnesota. Some of those shanties had heating and satellite TV, creature comforts while waiting for that record-breaking muskie to bite. Plus the neighborhood kids had turned a nearby pond into an impromptu hockey ring with spotlights, benches, goals and even a scoreboard. Winter was enjoyed as much as summer in her home state.
Her own house, a small, two-bedroom ranch, was perfect. It was close enough to the lake and ponds so she could enjoy them and far enough away that so the neighborhood activity didn't bother her.
And it was adorable, with wood siding in her trademark shade of red and a glossy white door that matched the window shutters. The door had an evergreen wreath with red-and-white checked bows and sprigs of holly. That and a tall lantern with a matching bow were the only Christmas decorations.
At home, Nat preferred to keep it simple.
She took out her key, opened the door and walked in.
Home, sweet home.
The small living area was scrupulously tidy, as suited her nature. White slipcovered sofas held red and white pillows in different patterns. The cheerful colors were the only concession to her profession. The walls were lined with black-and-white photographs that had absolutely nothing to do with Christmas.
After all, a girl could only take so many vintage Norman Rockwell prints.
A red and white rug lay on the floor. The coffee table was white and it housed her collection of over-sized Christmas decor books. A white bookshelf held her other books, a distressingly small portion of which were not Christmas-related. Even though she wanted the house to be neutral from her work, research was research.
The place looked as cozy as ever, but there was just one little incongruent detail.
She had no Christmas tree.
She had intended to get a tree, of course, but with work and various assignments, it just hadn't happened. Then the Blackstone project had taken up the last days before Christmas.
So the corner of the living room was conspicuously bare, just her desk and the antique brass lamp her mother had found occupying the space.
It was kind of depressing.
Nat took off her coat and hung it on the bright red coat rack, another antique sourced by Marisol. It had a large mirror surrounded by pegs. Her mom had found it in a summer flea market shortly after Nat had returned to town. It was covered in peeling paint and boasting a large crack in the middle of the glass, but Marisol had recognized its potential and dragged it home. She'd painted it red, replaced the broken mirror, and delivered it proudly to her daughter.
The mirror now reflected Nat's face as she took off her scarf. She looked pale and tired. Even the untamable red curls that framed her face looked listless.
She hung the scarf on a hook with a rough gesture.
She wasn't this person. She wasn't some pathetic creature, spending Christmas alone without a Christmas tree.
She was a seasoned professional who had just successfully completed a challenging assignment. She had just delivered a perfect Christmas to an extremely demanding client. She should be proud of herself.
And she was, but not at the moment. She felt the same way she'd felt five years ago when she'd returned from Mexico after breaking up with Ethan.
She shook her head, making the red curls dance in the mirror. This wasn't her. She wasn't like this.
And Ethan had been a long time ago. She should be—no, she was—over him. That's why she'd planned the Mexico trip. The whole point of it was that she was over Ethan.
And, yet, here she was still in Holiday Lake, trying not to cry in front of her mother's mirror. This was ridiculous. It was as if she were surfing from some bizarre jerk-ex-boyfriend PTSD.
She walked into the kitchen to make some tea to calm herself down. A hot cup of tea and a quick bath and then bed. That was the plan.
She opened a cupboard and took out her favorite mug. It was the Holiday Lake Inn's traditional diner-mug design and it kept her tea perfectly warm.
It was the perfect mug. Which was, of course, why she'd stolen it from Zoe. This kind of mug was not manufactured anymore and her friend guarded them zealously. The inn had a new line of mugs that they sold to tourists, but the old ones were not for sale. They were too precious.
She filled the mug with water and put it in the microwave, sneaking a guilty glance at her neglected cherry-red teakettle. There had been precious little time in the last few days and the microwave was faster than the kettle.
But that would change soon, even if her kettle would still not get much use.
The microwave beeped and she took the steaming mug out. She grabbed a bag of peppermint bark tea from the pantry and submerged it. The clean, minty smell instantly cheered her up.
As did the sudden beeping of her phone. The insistent sound could only mean one thing.
It was midnight.
Christmas was here.
She walked to the living room and took her phone out of her bag. Sure enough, she had a ton of text messages from her friends and family.
"We survived!!!!" Jecca texted with a long line of emojis.
"It's over!!!" was Zoe's text with a dancing baby gif.
The town hall sent out a long text congratulating everyone on a fantastic year. The Candy Cave sent a text with a special coupon for half-off on candy canes, and Holly the real estate agent sent a long message congratulating a client who would shortly receive "merry news." Nat also received an automated message from Odds and Elves.
The congratulatory onslaught made her smile. There was no message from Marisol, but that was hopefully good news.
Nat walked to the bedroom, gazing longingly at her comfortable bed with its red-checked down comforter. Suddenly, she was bone tired.
Funny how she'd been full of energy while wrapping presents with Cyrus, but now she was totally exhausted.
She put the mug down on her dresser and sent out her own congratulatory texts. She also sent a quick text to Zoe to see if she could chat, but she didn't get a reply. She would have to wait to get some answers.
Marisol had not replied to her text either. Hopefully that was because she was already peacefully asleep.
Bath, pajamas, then sleep.
Her gaze wandered towards the travel brochures and books on her bedside table. She had a wide array of literature on Mexico, beaches, and where to find the best margaritas in Baja, California. And she would get to them as soon as she took a shower. In a couple of days, she would be in Mexico, sunbathing and sipping tequila.
And hopefully whatever was going on would be fixed by the time she left. The last thing she needed was—
That's when her phone beeped, interrupting her thoughts. She quickly reached for it, thinking it was probably Zoe finally replying to her text. Nat quickly scrolled through her texts, eager to find out—
Then she stopped, staring at the words on the screen. Noah Schmidt's text read, "I need to talk to you tomorrow? It's an emergency."
And she didn't think it had anything to do with wrapping paper.