Christmasland - Anne-Marie Meyer Page 0,3

plate heaped with food. Meat, potatoes, roasted green beans, all of it slathered in gravy. After she handed me some utensils, she hurried off only to return with a basket full of warm rolls.

She settled next to me and watched as I started eating. It was awkward to have her studying me so intently. I gave her a small smile.

“Why don’t you eat with me?” I asked as I motioned toward my plate.

Mom shook her head. “I already ate. Plus, it’s getting hard to fit into my pants.” She giggled as her cheeks flushed. Then she leaned in. “Too many Christmas cookies.”

Mom made incredible cookies. She’d won quite a few awards at the county fairs.

We kept our conversation light as I finished up my plate. Once the food was gone, I pushed the plate away and leaned back, trying to make room for my stomach. It had been a long time since I felt this full from a meal. It was nice, even if it hurt just a bit.

“Good?” Mom asked as she stood to take my plate.

I motioned for her to sit and then stood and took my plate over to the sink and rinsed it off. After I loaded it into the dishwasher, I turned to see that Mom had come into the kitchen to join me. She poured two mugs of coffee and handed me one. I took it, but when she offered me some holiday flavored cream, I waved it off.

“I’m good. I’ll just stick with sugar.”

“Still resisting the flavored creamers?” she asked. Her tease only accented her smile.

“Why mess with something that’s already good?” I brought the mug to my lips and took a sip.

“When you add Christmas to something, it doesn’t mess it up. Look at this town. Adding Christmas revived it.” She tapped her nose. “We created a magical world in the middle of the mundane.”

I studied Mom as she spoke. She was truly happy. This was what she was meant to do. Jealousy crept up inside of me. I wished I felt the same. I wasn’t sure what I was meant to do, and no matter what I did, I never felt confident that my decisions were right.

I reached out and wrapped my arm around Mom’s shoulders. I brought her in and gave her a quick squeeze. She smiled and patted my hand, and we stood there in silence. Even though I’d fought coming back, I was glad I did.

A moment later, Mom sighed and turned to face me. “You know that there is no such thing as a free meal,” she said as she narrowed her eyes. Sweet Mom had disappeared, and suddenly, business woman took her place.

I should have known this would happen.

“What do you have in mind?” I asked as I stepped over to the counter and leaned against it. I folded my arms and stretched out my legs in front of me.

Mom gave me a wicked smile as she drummed her fingers on the countertop. “A lot.”

Perhaps I should have run away as soon as Mom’s Cheshire-cat smile emerged, or when she declared that I’d be working as her elf and showed me to the empty room I was going to stay in. But I didn’t.

Instead, I decided that, no matter what, leaving wasn’t an option. I was going to stick around here until after the holidays. Then I would decide what I was going to do, and I’d stick to it. If that meant going to back to Chicago, then I’d go. If it meant staying here…well, I’d make the decision when the time came.

For now, I was going to drown myself in work and try to survive all of this holiday cheer.

That’s what I’d been doing most of my life—trying to survive.

3

Beatrice

I was not going to survive. I’d been a fool to agree to this, and as I stood outside of my apartment building with my suitcase tucked in next to me and the cold winter air whipping around me, I contemplated running back upstairs and hiding under my covers. Em would survive without me. After all, she was fun and outgoing. She’d make a new best friend who liked eggnog and holiday flavored coffee creamer.

Maybe it was for the best. She could move on with someone who enjoyed all the things she did, and I could lean into the hermit lifestyle that I seemed destined to live out. Why should I fight the inevitable?

I wrapped my fingers around the handle of my suitcase, and just