Forever Wild (The Simple Wild #2.5) - K.A. Tucker Page 0,13

ten to a table. On the far end of the room, next to the seventeen-foot Christmas tree that’s been up for the whole of the Winter Carnival, Teddy and the photographer are setting up the props around Santa’s ornate chair. All along the perimeter of the large room, long, rectangular tables that will be used to display items for a silent auction are already half full of donations, everything from gift baskets to handmade socks to painted mountain landscapes.

And at the center of it all is my stocky neighbor, in her usual rolled-up jeans—on account of her short legs—and a flannel button-down shirt that barely closes over her ample chest. I can always tell when she’s just washed her hair because her gray curls are tight against her scalp.

“Hey, Muriel,” I call out.

She spins on her heels at the sound of my voice and makes an overt display of checking her watch. “Glad to see you could join us today, Calla.”

I’ve long since learned not to let Muriel’s abrasive personality get under my skin. Her words carry no malice. It’s who she is. “Sorry. Jonah’s mom wants to do some baking today, so I had to dig through my cupboards. I didn’t want her running out to the store if she didn’t need to.”

“Oh.” Muriel nods, as if she approves of my excuse for the tardiness. “And how is everyone getting on over there so far?”

“Fine.” Aside from Jonah wanting to strangle his stepfather, but I’m not getting into family drama with Muriel. “They’re still getting settled.”

“I remember holidays with my in-laws. It was a stressful time every year.” She shakes her head. “Teddy’s mother was something else. You’ve never met a more controlling woman in your life, I’ll tell ya. He’s lucky I have as much patience as I do, or we might never have gotten married.”

A bark of laughter sounds nearby. Toby, within earshot of our conversation.

“What’s so funny over there?” Muriel’s eyes narrow at her son. “You got somethin’ to say?”

I’m struggling to not let my own amusement slip. “So, Muriel, where do you want me to start?”

She turns back to her clipboard, dragging a stubby finger down the left margin. “You can start on the table settings.”

“Perfect.” Something I actually enjoy.

“The linens are in the storage room in the back. Centerpieces are in the big green containers in the corner. There’s no need to get fancy with them,” she warns. “We have three candles per table and enough—No! Not that background!” she hollers at Teddy.

He pauses to frown at the snowy landscape scene behind Santa’s chair, scratching his natural long, white beard. “What’s wrong with this one?”

“We did that one last year.”

“Well, I didn’t know that.”

“You were here!” Muriel huffs and storms off toward him, clipboard tucked under her arm. “We alternate. This year is the fireplace background.”

As much as I pity Teddy, at least Muriel is too distracted with him to hound after me.

“They have this same argument every year.” Toby adjusts the table nearest me a few inches to the left, an amused smirk on his face. “Every year, he puts up the wrong one.”

I frown. “Every year?”

“Every year,” Emily chirps, smiling at Toby on her way past.

Toby chuckles. “So, how are things really going over at your place?” He sees my expression and nods. “Yeah, Jonah seemed off this morning.”

“He got some news he wasn’t happy about.” I tell Toby about Astrid’s health surprise and Jonah’s mounting guilt over her flying here.

“Shit.”

“She says it’s not a big deal, but …” I shrug.

“It’s his mom,” Toby finishes off.

“Exactly.” And as wild as Jonah can be sometimes when it comes to his own safety, he is overprotective to a fault when it comes to those he loves. It’s a double standard that is equal parts irritating and endearing.

“And she’s going to have to fly all the way here again when you guys get married.”

“I don’t think Jonah’s even thought about that yet.” He’s going to lose his mind when he does. My unease grows. “He’ll try to convince me to go to Oslo to get married.”

“That could be nice.”

“No, it could not.”

Toby’s eyebrow arches in question.

“It’s on the other side of the world and I have no roots there.”

He considers that for a moment. “Yeah, but Jonah would rock the lederhosen.”

I giggle-snort. “Do they wear those there? You know what? It doesn’t matter. No wedding in Norway. It’s got to be either Toronto or here. My mother is pushing for Toronto.” As much as it