Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 133682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 535(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 535(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
Bibi’s smile is Mona Lisa levels of pleased. “However did you know?”
Fable shrugs easily. “You have a definite vibe going on with him. Did you also need Mac to—” Fable blinks and, possibly realizing she was veering into a faux pas, she quickly reroutes. “Did you also need Mac to…take pics of you two?”
But I suspect she was about to ask, “Do you need Mac to set you up?” It’s a good thing she didn’t because my aunt, of course, believes we’ve been together for a few weeks. No need for Mac to set us up today. Just as there’s no need to reveal our hand now.
Bibi shakes her head. “Maybe if we have another date. Just like the two of you.”
Fable’s shoulders relax, looking relieved. But the guilt over lying to my aunt sits heavy in my chest.
But it’s not fake anymore. Does anyone need to know that it once was?
I think not. Best to wait till after the wedding. Besides, there’s no need to expose ourselves. Explaining will mean the eggnog story will come out, which will cause major awkwardness in the wedding party. No one needs that. Time to dismiss the guilt and move forward. We load into the car and go.
43
JUST A LITTLE HOLIDAY PAYBACK
Fable
My first thought as we head down the freshly shoveled sidewalks of Main Street is I wish Charlotte were here. This is exactly what I wanted for her when we were growing up—this kind of family moment during the holidays.
But I know she’s having a lovely time with friends doing her final wedding prep this afternoon. So I snap a couple pictures of downtown Evergreen Falls to share with her, then put my phone away.
Freshly fallen snow lines the edges of the sidewalks. The scent of gingerbread from the nearby Sugar Plum Bakery floats past us. A bell tinkles as I walk into Play All Day with the man I’m dating, his smart-as-a-whip daughter, his mother, and his aunt.
And I couldn’t be happier.
Plus, this toy store rocks. It’s a veritable wonderland, with everything from plush animals to board games, wooden puzzles, and dollhouses lining the shelves. Mac surprises absolutely no one by heading for the board game and puzzles section. The woman behind the counter calls out in a voice like a duchess. “Let me know if I can help you with anything.”
“We will,” Mac answers.
“Games and puzzles were on the list of top-request types of gifts from the organization. I bet she’s going to pick out a thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle,” Bibi declares.
“My prediction is Settlers of Catan,” Wilder’s mother says.
I smile, knowing they’re both close but no cigar.
Her father shakes his head. “That kid is getting chess. She’ll want everyone to learn it,” he says confidently, and yep, he’s right. At the end of the row, Mac stretches up on tiptoe to grab a chessboard from a shelf, and her dad calls out, “Do you think that’s the game kids want for Christmas?”
Mac shoots him a look like, How can you even ask? “Chess is for everyone. But so is Settlers of Catan and these puzzles and Monopoly.” She tugs those off the shelves too, stacking them high in her arms. “I also highly recommend we get Exploding Kittens, Clue, and Cat Crimes. Also, Would You Rather. For kids, of course.”
Wilder quickly strides to the end of the aisle, taking some of the boxes.
At an endcap of intricately crafted dollhouses, complete with miniature cardboard milk cartons on tiny wooden tables in Lilliputian kitchens, Bibi fails to stifle a laugh and turns to her sister. “Every day. This is what your granddaughter is like every day.”
It’s said with such obvious affection, but when Wilder’s mom smiles there’s a hint of sadness in her eyes. “I miss this,” she says softly.
And my heart, my squishy, soft heart is officially a marshmallow as I witness the wistful interaction from a few feet away.
Emotions swim up my throat, twisted up with nostalgia and the wish that I had this when I was younger. But there’s also gratitude that I can have it in new ways as an adult. I’m lucky that my sister and I stayed close through all the years. Now, she’s getting her dream wedding tomorrow and we’re finally having a holiday free of the kind of drama and the toxicity that plagued our home when we were growing up.
I look down the aisle at Mac, focused, precise, and also happy as she grabs gifts. She’s wise beyond her years, and yet her parents allow her to be exactly eleven. They don’t expect anything more from her than to be her age.
We pass the dollhouse endcap and join them, then help to carry some of the games to the counter when Mac notices a nearby display of wooden toys. “Not everyone likes games. Some kids like toys. Those were on the requested list too,” she says in that confident, take-charge tone. “We need to get those too.”