Christmasland - Anne-Marie Meyer Page 0,2

whispered and then turned to me where she tried to stifle her giggle but was failing horribly.

I thought about taking back my offer. I considered backing out. But Em looked so happy. Her family would be overseas this holiday season, and she was just as alone as I was—I couldn’t take away her happiness. Not when I had no good reason other than that it wasn’t really my thing.

So I gave her a forced smile and pumped my fists in the air. She clapped her hands together and started in on everything we were going to do and how excited she was. I tried to look just as excited, but I knew that I was failing miserably.

All I needed to do was survive and I would be okay. That was all I needed to do.

Survive.

2

Ethan

I couldn’t believe I’d agreed to this. There was no way I got in my car and drove the twenty-odd hours to Vermont so I could stand outside of Mom’s overly decorated house in Christmasland. I should have just checked myself into the psych ward at one of the many hospitals I’d driven by on my way here.

“I’m insane,” I whispered as I climbed out of my car. The snow crunched under my boots. I took in a deep breath in an effort to prepare myself for what was going to come my way. A whole lot of Christmas cheer wrapped up in the form of my mother.

When Dad died fifteen years ago, Mom spiraled. She began to stock their historical house full of Christmas items. Where I saw clutter, Mom saw a business opportunity. Soon, her house was packed full of people who wanted the taste of Christmas.

I was still shocked that she’d managed to get the whole town in on it, but they’d seen her vision and leaned into it. The result of Mom’s entrepreneurship was Christmasland. An entire town dedicated to the spirit of Christmas.

And I’d somehow let Mom talk me into coming back. I was officially off my rocker.

I grabbed my suitcase and computer bag from the trunk and then slammed it shut. I walked across the back yard and pulled open the door that led into the kitchen. Warmth and the mouth-watering smells of roast and fresh baked bread filled my nose instantly, making my salivary glands perk up.

I may not have missed Mom’s knickknacks, but I’d definitely missed Mom’s cooking.

A low, deep bark drew my attention up. I stomped my feet to release the snow and smiled at Rudolph, who had perked up from his bed in the corner. His once vibrant, St. Bernard coat had now dulled, and the hair around his nose was feathered with white.

“Hush, Rudolph.” Mom’s voice sounded from around the corner. I slipped off my shoes and left my suitcase and bag by the door.

“Hey, Ma,” I said as I came up next to her.

Mom was in the middle of stirring some gravy, and at first, it didn’t look like she registered who I was. But the moment passed, and suddenly Mom was squealing and moving to pull me into one of her crushing hugs. She was a tiny woman, but formidable. And she gave the best hugs.

“My baby’s come home,” she whispered as she held me tight.

I hugged her back, but she didn’t seem interested in letting me go. My back was cricked from bending forward, and I felt a tad smothered, but I missed her as much as it seemed she missed me, so I let her hug me for as long as she needed.

When she pulled back, I noticed that her eyes were misty, and that caused the lump in my throat to grow. She was lonely and I’d been the jerk son that had stayed away.

“It’s good to see you, too.”

She reached up and patted my cheek with her hand. Then a moment later, a spark glistened in her eye, and suddenly, she was pushing me toward the small round table in the corner by Rudolph. She put pressure on my shoulders until I sat.

“Let me get you some food,” she said as she hurried back into the kitchen and pulled down a plate.

“Ma,” I responded, but she just waved it away.

Realizing that there was no way I could sway her from what she wanted to do, I settled back in my seat and let my stress start to melt away. Even though the house was more cluttered than I preferred, it still felt like…home.

When Mom returned, she set down a