Holly, Jolly, and Oh So Naughty (Festive Flames)
Holly, Jolly, and Oh So Naughty: Chapter 3

“Emma! Come on, sweetie! We’re leaving in ten minutes!”

“Coming!” My daughter’s screech carries down the stairs as if she were standing right next to me, and I wince even as a smile creeps over my face.

Dodging questions about her father on the drive home was difficult, especially now I know the other kids are starting to give her a hard time about it. Ever since she was little, I knew this day would come and so I would tell her that her dad was away doing important jobs for people. Sometimes it would be for the princes in her storybooks. Other times it would be to help the Easter Bunny, depending on the time of year.

Those stories worked well on her in the past, but I sense now that she’s getting far too smart for me to continue pulling the wool over her eyes. So instead, I deflected and diverted her attention to dinner with her grandparents.

That was enough to distract her, at least for now.

In the kitchen, I lift several spoonsful of pasta into two Tupperware containers. My parents are never short on meals since they run the Fir Tree Inn with a cook who serves lunch and dinner, but there’s something nice about bringing them a home-cooked meal.

Above me, Emma’s footsteps stomp around, then she charges down the stairs and slides into the kitchen with a wide grin on her face.

“Oh, my God.” I snort softly. “Emma, is that really the right thing to wear to go and see Grandma and Grandpa?”

She stands before me with her hands in the air, her body tucked into blue dungarees and a pink tutu visible just underneath. The puff skirt’s netting sticks out at her sides through the gaps in the dungarees, and she’s placed a tiara on her head.

“Well, Grandpa always likes the tutu, but if I wear these” —Emma pats her dungaree pocket— “I can help Grandma in the garage.”

“Ahh, you are a girl of many talents.” I chuckle, motioning her forward. “Are you comfortable?”

“Mmhmm!” Emma darts forward and climbs up onto the stool next to me, then she breathes deeply. “Pasta!”

“Yes. You want to try some? Make sure it’s good enough?”

Emma nods and her face turns very serious. “We can’t bring them a bad dinner.”

“No, we certainly can’t.” Passing her a fork, I slide the empty pot toward her, where a couple of pasta spirals still sit at the bottom, covered in spicy tomato sauce. She digs in immediately, smacking her lips together, and my heart warms.

No matter how my day is or how stressful work ends up being, there’s something so heartwarming about coming home to Emma. She eats the spirals and then nods, mimicking Grandma in the way she taps her finger against her chin.

“I think it’s just right,” Emma declares. She hands the fork back to me and slides off the stool. “Oh, no! I forgot my boots!” With that, she sprints right out of the kitchen and runs all the way up the stairs.

“Five minutes!” I call with a laugh.

Dungarees and a tutu are certainly a choice, but it’s just like her to try and look her best for everyone. She’s grown up around me busy in the bakery, Grandma busy in the garage attached to the inn, and Grandpa busy with all the inner workings of the Fir Tree Inn. Three different worlds combined in one family.

As I busy about sealing the Tupperware and cleaning up the pot, my phone rings. I answer it with an awkward press of my nose. “Hello?”

“Lily!” Amelia, my best friend, bursts onto the screen with a glass of something pink and fizzy in her hand. “Oh, dear, I was calling to ask if you wanted to come over, but you look busy!”

“Yeah, sorry. I’m taking Emma to the inn. Dinner with the parents tonight.” I scrub quickly at the pot, keeping an ear on Emma’s noisy footsteps up above. “Thanks, by the way.”

“Ooh, what for?”

“For teaching Emma to walk confidently. She’s been stomping about ever since I picked her up.”

Amelia bursts out laughing and rocks away from the phone. “Oh, love, I’m sorry. I tried to tell her it was about walking tall and stuff, but I think she took me literally.”

“Do I need to be worried?” I glance at the phone. “She told me some kids were picking on her.”

“About the dance?” Amelia sobers up quickly. “It’s just kids being kids. Nothing serious, but I am keeping an eye on it.”

“Kids being kids.” I sigh. “Little brats, it sounds like.”

“Yeah.” Amelia sighs and sips her drink. “Besides, the dance is every year and Emma dances with her grandpa, right? The kids will move on quickly.”

“She’s asking questions, though.” Keeping my voice low, I glance at the door to make sure she’s not here yet. “I knew it was coming, but she’s asking real questions now. I don’t think fairy tale answers will fly this year.”

“Aw, love.” Amelia sighs. “Is there anything I can do?”

I look at her and shake my head. “No. I suppose this was inevitable. I just don’t want those kids to replace out and make things worse, y’know? I figured I had at least one more year of stories to tell.”

“Kids are too smart for their own good,” Amelia remarks. “Although it really does sound like you need a drink. You sure you can’t slip away?”

“Nah. Tonight is family time,” I reply. “Besides, you look like you’re three glasses deep.”

Amelia laughs and runs a hand through her short, red hair. “Honestly. Oh, the reason I called, though.” She waggles her brows at me. “Did I see you talking to Mark in the hall?”

The memory of his oddly dry palm bursts into my mind, and I shiver slightly. “More like he was quizzing me. I got the distinct impression that he was flirting with me.”

“And?” Amelia sing songs a little. “What did you think?”

“Of Mark?”

“Yes, of Mark!”

“I don’t know.” Setting the towel aside, I stack the containers into my bag. “He seemed alright. Average, I guess.”

“Average is a good place to start.” Amelia grins.

“Amelia. Did you send him to me?”

Her face melts into picture-perfect innocence. “I may have nudged him your way.”

“Amelia!”

“What? I don’t want my best friend to be sad and lonely at Christmas, okay? You deserve to have someone take you out and treat you, y’know? And he’s like the only decent teacher left at the school.”

“If he’s so great, why don’t you take a crack? Because I am not interested.”

“Lily, at least think about it.” She leans in close and her adorable face fills the screen. “Please? You can’t be alone forever.”

“I’m not alone,” I reply as Emma’s thundering steps descend the stairs. “I have Emma and you and my parents and all my friends.”

“None of those people can give you what you really need.”

“Which is?” I side-eye Amelia as Emma comes into the kitchen.

“I can’t say it in polite company,” Amelia grinds out, making me laugh.

“Alright. Emma, say hi and bye to Amelia. We’ve got to go.”

“Hi, bye!” Emma calls, waving her hand at the phone.

“Hi, bye,” Amelia calls back with a smile. “Alright, love ya, Lily.”

“Love you too.”

Pulling up to the Fir Tree Inn is a little like coming home. While I didn’t strictly grow up here, the majority of my childhood and teen years were spent here helping out. Nestled on the edge of the pine forest that sweeps around the town, the Fir Tree Inn is a home for all travelers and tourists. It’s survived all this town’s rising and falling economy and housed hundreds during and after severe snow storms. The hall is often used for parties and gatherings, especially at New Year’s, and the inn is as much a fixture of the town as the gigantic marble fir tree statue in the middle of the town with the foundation plaque.

Now, it’s as beautiful as ever with colorful Christmas lights twinkling along the eaves and the first dusting of heavy snow clinging to the roofs. Orange light warms the entryway, and I glimpse my father bustling about inside.

“Ready?” I turn to face Emma, who is holding tightly onto the pasta boxes. She nods quickly and puffs out her cheeks.

“If I don’t eat soon, I’m gonna die!”

“Uh-huh sweetie. Well, let’s get inside before that happens.” Affectionately rolling my eyes, I help Emma from the car and we head inside. Immediately, we’re greeted by a welcoming warmth and the scent of the peppermint sticks that sit by the check-in desk.

“Grandpa!”

“Munchkin!” My dad comes hurrying from the back office and throws his arms out wide for a hug. “Look at you all dressed up!”

“She dressed up for you and Mom,” I say with a smile as Emma runs into her grandpa’s arms. “And we brought dinner.”

“Oh, honey, you didn’t have to do that!” My mom appears from the side door, wearing dungarees almost identical to the pair Emma wears while wiping grease from her stained fingers. “You know we have a chef.”

“I know, but I like to cook for you both.” I kiss her cheek and help Emma set the boxes on the desk. “Besides, by the time I heat this up, you’ll both have time to get cleaned up and then no one needs to worry about cooking.”

“You do think of everything.” My dad chuckles while gently wrestling with Emma. He tickles her, picks her up, and spins her around, which makes my mom surge forward.

“Adam, be careful! Watch your back!”

“My back is fine, Hillary,” Dad replies. “You worry too much.”

“Well, I’d better not hear you complaining about that stool giving you aches when it’s your own actions.” Mom chuckles and then inspects the boxes. “Oh, my, this smells amazing! Darling, did you see that the ice rink is open? Maybe we can go this weekend?”

“I’ll think about it,” I say, trying to draw up my calendar from the depths of my tired mind.

“I helped with dinner!” Emma declares, breathless from laughing. “Tell her, Mom!”

“It’s true, she helped.” I smile. “Right, you two get cleaned up and I’ll go get these heated up, alright?”

A round of agreeable murmurs rises from the group. Walking through the lobby, a familiar sense of comfort washes over me. These wooden walls, rickety chairs, and thick carpet have seen everything from me over the years, from failed tests and graduation to crying over boyfriends and fights with the family. It’s really a second home.

As I reach the wooden paneled doors leading further into the inn, I glance over my shoulder. “Emma, do you want garlic bread?”

“Yes, please!”

The door swings open as I walk forward, causing my outstretched hand to miss the handle and instead press against the warm, broad chest of the man coming through from the other side.

“Oh, my, I’m so sorry!” I gasp. A jolt of energy fizzes at my palm, then shoots up my arm like the odd, painful reflex of striking your funny bone, and I snatch my hand away. As I do, the containers in my other hand wobble.

The man catches my wrist with soft, strong fingers. With his other hand, he grasps my opposite arm and pulls me against him so our combined torsos prevent the boxes from toppling over and sending pasta all over the floor.

“Oh, God, I’m sorry!” I gasp, torn between staying in a grasp that feels oddly comforting and darting away before the energy simmering under my skin explodes outward.

I’ve never felt anything like it in my life.

I glance up at the stranger and lock eyes with the most deeply intense blue eyes I have ever seen. They twinkle from golden skin, and a few brown curls drift down to get in the way as the man steadies the both of us and then smiles. His smile is wide and warm, and then the corners turn down slightly as if noticing something.

Something that clicks with me at the same moment.

I jerk away from him, hugging the containers to my chest. That electric feeling… I felt it once before. And I’ve seen those blue eyes before. I used to get lost in them daily as time continued on without us.

“You,” I gasp, and a tremor whips down my spine, forcing my shoulders to shake. “What are you… how are you… what?”

“Hello, Lily,” says James Anderson, the man I was certain I would never see again.