The Mistletoe Kisser - Lucy Score Page 0,9

to pursue more academic challenges. Those challenges required her parents to move closer to New York City, but the Blue Moon grapevine was long and tangled, delivering gossip to a wide network of past and present Mooners.

“You heard right. Dr. Turner had a medical emergency—a human one,” Sammy explained. “He’s taking my calls on Christmas Eve.”

“I fail to see how you’re going to build up the reputation of your own practice if you’re too busy swapping shifts with some run-of-the-mill spay and neuter office.”

“Mmm,” Sammy hummed and took another big bite of cold pizza, knowing a defense wasn’t actually expected.

“I’m sure I don’t need to remind you how hard I worked to establish the practice you now run.”

“Of course not,” Sammy agreed, picking up the garden center’s seed catalog.

“Not to mention how I think further dividing your attention by starting this non-profit is a huge mistake that you’ll live to regret,” Anastasia continued.

While her mom plowed through the list of baffling disappointments, Sammy paged through the catalog. Some daughters got guilt trips about not getting married or producing grandchildren fast enough. Sammy got lectures on carrying the family mantel. Dr. Anastasia Ames may have moved on from actually practicing livestock medicine—she taught it and spoke at conferences about it—but she still expected Sammy to somehow make her proud… without outshining the original Dr. Ames.

It took three pages of alfalfa and grass seeds before her mother’s lecture began to wind down.

“Oh. While I have you,” she said as an afterthought, “your father and I aren’t coming for Christmas Eve. I’m giving a lecture the night before in Boston, and we’ve been invited to brunch with the Secretary of Agriculture. I don’t want to have to rush off. So your father will put your gifts in the mail, and we’ll touch base after the holidays on rescheduling.”

Only Anastasia would put “by the way, I’m not spending Christmas with my only child” in the back seat in favor of leading with a lecture on duty and family responsibility.

“Okay. Well, I’ll miss you guys,” Sammy said because it was expected.

“Yes, well. Have a Merry Christmas,” Anastasia said, also because it was expected. “Talk soon.”

And just like that, her mother was gone. Dr. Ames was an important, busy woman who didn’t have time for things like goodbyes.

Sammy hadn’t even put the phone down when it buzzed in her hand. It was a text message from her father.

Dad: Already missing you, Sammy Girl! I had big plans for getting your mother drunk on eggnog so she’d go to bed early and we could watch Die Hard together without her complaining about “unrealistic stunts”.

There was a collection of characters after the text, and Sammy guessed he’d been trying to send a frowny face.

Sammy: I’ll miss you, too! Maybe we can watch it together after New Year’s?

Dad: Sounds like a plan. Good luck with your fundraiser! Send pictures of your sold-out stand! Merry Christmas, kiddo. Love you.

Sammy: Merry Christmas, Pops. Love you.

It wouldn’t be the same, and they both knew it. But overt sentimentality wasn’t tolerated within the Ames family. Sammy and her father had learned to sneak it past Anastasia wherever possible.

She opened a separate text conversation and started typing.

Sammy: Okay. Who had my parents canceling Christmas on the 20th?

Layla: Yes! Me! Suck it, bitches!

Eva: Oh no! I’m so sorry! Does this mean you’ll be alone for Christmas? That’s so sad!

Sammy couldn’t help but smile at Eva’s response. She was the newest addition to the group of otherwise life-long friends. Not only was the woman a romance novelist who couldn’t tolerate unhappy endings, she was also pregnant and hormonal. When she wasn’t throwing up, she was crying.

Sammy: You’re crying right now, aren’t you, Eva?

Eva: Who would leave their only daughter all alone on Christmas? It breaks my heart!

Eden: What did I miss? Davis just made me orgasm twice in the kitchen, and I blacked out for a minute.

Eden was Sammy’s best friend since third grade. They’d bonded over the unfortunate death of the class hamster while he’d been in their care. Mr. Biscuits had died of natural causes, but Sammy’s mother still held a grudge for the dent it put in her reputation as a veterinarian.

Sammy: Eva, stay hydrated. Eden, I hope you sanitized the work surfaces after your orgasmic bliss.

Layla: Hey, remember the good old days when we used to all be single and no one was getting laid?

Eva: Layla, maybe it’s the pregnancy hormones or writer’s instinct, but I get the feeling your sexy next-door