The Mistletoe Kisser - Lucy Score Page 0,36
of tax code, and attending a lot of meetings that could have been emails.”
“But there was something you loved about it. Otherwise you wouldn’t care so much.”
“Maybe,” he hedged, brooding out the window.
“Let’s go find you a Rainbow Berkowicz,” she decided. “While Mavis gave you the tour of her financials, I called the coffee shop. Rainbow is there right now.”
“Oh, thank God. Coffee.”
Sammy smiled as she accelerated toward town while Trans-Siberian Orchestra poured from the speakers. She’d deliver Ryan to Rainbow, grab a fresh cup of coffee for the road, and be back almost on schedule.
“Text message from Mom,” the stereo reported. “The dates you suggested for Christmas won’t work for us. I have the third weekend in January open.”
She sighed and felt Ryan’s gaze on her.
“Your mother bailed on Christmas with you?” he asked.
“At this point, it’s kind of a family tradition. She’s one of those perpetually busy, over-scheduled people. She likes it that way.”
“What do you do for Christmas?”
“I sleep late. Have wine for breakfast and hang out in my pajamas all day. It’s kind of great.” It really was. But she had to admit that sometimes she wished she had someone to eat cookies with on the couch. “What about you?”
He blew out a breath. “I try to survive a Sosa-Shufflebottom Christmas. I fly to Philly and split my time between my dad’s place and my mom’s. It’s chaos with siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles. Everyone’s yelling just to be heard over everyone else’s yelling.”
“That doesn’t sound that terrible.”
“It’s always too hot because there’s thirty exhausted adults stuffed into a room. My cousin Margo’s kids run around biting each other and knocking over furniture. She’s got six of them and decided to raise them free range.”
“What does that mean? Do they live outside?”
“Worse. Their parents don’t use the word ‘no’.” He shuddered. “Do you know what it’s like trying to get through a meal with six kids who have never heard the word?”
“Okay, sounding slightly more awful,” Sammy conceded.
“My mom sneaks into the pantry to drink wine straight from the bottle. By the time I leave in the afternoon for my dad’s, she’s shit-faced and eating chocolate chips by the five-pound bag. For my dad’s side of the family, we go to his sister’s house. She breeds these tiny fluffy dogs that never stop barking. Her entire house smells like dog pee, and everything is covered in fur.”
“Fun.”
“It gets better. Last year, my cousin Albert showed up to surprise his mom and introduce her to his boyfriend. Aunt Maude ripped the wooden baby Jesus out of the nativity scene on her mantel and threw it at them. Apparently, she’d told everyone that Albert wasn’t coming home for the holidays because he was going into the priesthood in South Dakota.”
“Oh, no.”
“My dad flipped off Maude, and my siblings and I stole two apple pies on the way out. We took Albert and Ricardo to a bar, ate the pies, and drank until Christmas was over. They’re getting married next fall.”
She blinked. “Wow.”
“I’d already decided to skip the whole thing this year. So, yeah, your Christmas for one sounds far superior. As soon as I get this Carson crisis taken care of, I’m flying home and taking a page out of your book.”
Over Caffeinated was a colorful, cozy storefront on Main Street. Sammy and Ryan were welcomed at the door by a rush of heat and the smell of freshly ground coffee beans. The window display was a Christmas tree made entirely from gold, silver, and green to-go mugs, looped with tree lights.
“Which one is Rainbow?” Ryan asked, eyeing the cafe’s clientele as he stuffed the gloves in his pocket.
Sammy craned her neck and spotted Enid Macklemore and Mervin Lauter at a table in the corner. They were wearing tie-dye Solstice Recycling Committee sweatshirts. Enid had an advanced degree in something hard to pronounce from MIT and was the oldest dog walker in Blue Moon. Mervin was a bit of a YouTube sensation, posting Dad advice videos on everything from how to change your locks to how to edge your flowerbeds.
There was a third mug sitting in front of an empty chair.
“I don’t see her. She might be in the restroom or maybe she stepped out for a phone call.”
“I guess I can buy you that cup of coffee before she comes back,” he offered.
She studied the menu behind the counter. “Ooh! Christmas cookie latte. Yes, please.”
Ryan snorted. “Why don’t you just eat an entire bowl of sugar instead?”
She gave