her face with her hands. “I can’t believe you just said that. I said that to you, didn’t I?” She lolled her head back. This was only the kind of thing you could laugh about with a real friend. I’m the luckiest girl. Thank you, snow globe.
He joined in the laughter. Not at her, but with her. He placed his hand gently on hers. “You did. I thought it was sweet.”
“I was hoping you hadn’t noticed. Oh my gosh, I’m so embarrassed.” She rubbed her brow with her fingers.
“It was beautiful.” He stood from the piano. “And now it’s really happening. Let’s get that choir rehearsal going so we can get done and go on our first date.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
The taxi raced down the busy streets, swerving in and out of traffic, honking impatiently. Katie held on to the door handle. She used to be so at ease in a cab; now she missed those meandering rides in the old red truck. Outside, the snow here in the city was wet and slushy, almost gray. Nothing like the puffy mounds along the streets of Evergreen.
People moved with purpose down the street, their faces tucked into the collars of their coats against the cold.
Not a single wave or smile.
The taxi turned onto her street.
She’d always loved the sleek warehouse style of the condos that lined her block. The tall walk-ups looked strong. A red building next to an orange one, next to a yellow, next to a blue…like a box of felt-tip markers.
Today, the metal and glass seemed stark and lonely.
Honk. Honk.
And loud.
The taxi driver swerved over to the corner and popped the trunk.
It’d be quiet, with nary an ornament or light, and not even a Christmas card lying around. For a moment she considered getting back in the cab and taking a detour to Rockefeller Center to see the lights on the tree first.
But the taxi driver already had her bag on the curb.
She got out and paid him, then rolled her suitcase up the walk to the front of her building. It felt less like home today, but there was her name on the intercom, CONNELL ~ 501. She’d worked so hard to buy this place. Her dream home.
She carried her bag up the steps, through the lobby. On the elevator, a flyer had been tacked to the corkboard next to the floor button panel. She read it as she pressed the button for her floor. There was a holiday mixer tonight. She’d never gone to even one of the many gatherings people planned in this complex. For a moment she tossed the idea around of going. It could be fun, like the caroling or cookie baking in Evergreen. But she dismissed the thought just as quickly. It wouldn’t be the same as Evergreen. Nothing would ever be the same. Her heart hung heavy, and she wondered what Ben was doing right now.
When the elevator stopped with a jolt, the doors opened, and she stepped off. Her suitcase rolled smoothly across the high-gloss floor in the hall. She punched in her code in the high-tech lock, and the mechanisms disengaged. She walked inside and kicked off her shoes at the door.
To her surprise, not only was every light in the apartment on, but there was garland hanging in her kitchen. Not the real stuff. There wasn’t even the faintest hint of pine or spruce or fir in the air. White lights twinkled from her fake fig tree and plastic philodendron.
In the living room, a Christmas tree—fake, of course—rose to at least seven feet tall.
“Mom?”
“Hi. I came to talk to you about your article.”
She rubbed her hand along her arm. A little groan escaped. “As my editor or as my mother?”
“Little of both.” She held out her arms. “Hi, honey. Welcome home. Merry Christmas.”
Katie hugged her. “You bought me a tree?”
“I did. I remembered all you had was that little three-foot-tall one you used to put on the table in front of the window.”
“It’s cute.”
“If you like Charlie Brown trees, maybe.” She stepped back. “You look good. I’ve missed you.”
“Thanks, Mom. I missed you too.”
“I wanted to surprise you with a little Christmas decor.”
“You sure did.”
Pam picked up a box of ornaments off the couch. “And have a look at these ornaments. These have been tucked away in my storage unit for years.”
Katie recognized a lot of them. “You saved all these?”
“I did. Some are from when I was little; some I’ve collected. Some you made when you were little.” She