On My Way - Eve Langlais Page 0,79

hauling a tree from the bed of his truck. A real Christmas tree.

I clapped my hands. “Darryl, you shouldn’t have.”

“Shut it, woman. Least I could do with the way you’ve been helping me out with that junk.”

Junk that was selling.

In short order, we’d set the tree up in the corner and put presents around the base of it, declaring it the most beautiful thing ever. It was solid, too. Just look at Grisou, who climbed to the very top to escape Herbie.

We crowded around the island for dinner. The fondue set we’d located at the back of a cupboard was made of cast iron, and we piled around it to eat. Chunks of chicken and beef, stewed in the boiling broth then dipped in various sauces. We had bite-sized appetizers: jalapeno poppers—my favorite—bacon-wrapped asparagus, crispy cauliflower, and a hot dip.

The cookies for dessert turned out to be coconut made with a bit of egg, almond flour, and stevia. Low carb and delicious with the eggnog we whipped up. Spiked for me, Trish, and Winnie, virgin for Darryl and Marjorie. It was the best Christmas Eve ever, and I was sorry to see it end when Darryl rose to leave just after eleven.

I saw him to the door, cheeks flushed.

He stroked my jaw. “Have a merry Christmas, Naomi.” He kissed me.

Lightly but enough for the peanut gallery to yell, “Give her some tongue!”

Me being me, I pulled away, blushing. Darryl didn’t seem to mind. His eyes crinkled at the corners.

“Here, I got you something.” He slipped me a small box.

“I didn’t get you a present,” I wailed.

“Just knowing you is gift enough,” he said, dropping another light kiss on my lips.

My happiness just about floated me off the floor. I watched him leave and sighed.

Trish joined me. “You’re going to have to jump his bones.”

“Maybe.”

“No maybes. You’re horny, and he likes you.”

“What if it doesn’t work out?”

“Then you try again.”

“Sounds scary.”

“Taking a chance always is. Now come on. It’s Christmas Eve, and we haven’t exploded any kittens yet.”

“What?” I exclaimed as she dragged me back to the others.

I found out what she meant and then proceeded to laugh harder than I ever recalled.

A brisk knock at the door only minutes before midnight stifled the laughter.

“Maybe Darryl came back for another kiss,” Winnie suggested.

“I doubt that.” Still, I was the one who rose to go answer. Cheeks flushed. Happy. And smiling.

Jace stood on the porch, wearing a plaid lumberjacket buttoned closed for once, sporting a tuque and gloves.

“Jace. Hi. Care to come in and play—” I whirled. “What’s that game called again?”

“Exploding Kittens.”

His left brow arched. “I think I will pass. I actually came to bring you something. I found it lost on the road.” He stepped aside, and I gaped.

“Geoff?”

“Hey, Mom. Figured with what happened, you might need another shoulder to lean on.”

“Come here.” I drew him in for a hug that lasted too long.

I was okay with it.

25

Interlude: No, it’s not quite over

Standing at the perimeter dividing the properties, I noticed the bright lights in all the windows, but that wasn’t the only thing that kept me lurking in the shadows. I tucked my hands behind my back, a cold and dark sentinel, very much aware of the line mere inches from my toes. A few days ago, I could have crossed it easily, but now… I eyed the nimbus imbuing the very land itself.

“It’s awake,” a voice advised from behind.

I didn’t turn to look. No need since I was well aware of my lieutenant’s approach. “It was never fully asleep to start with. Merely slumbering, waiting for its mistress to rouse it.”

“We should have burned it when we had a chance.”

“And then she would have never come.” I admired the sheer elegance of everything that had happened thus far. Even as it caused me to shift my own plans. In the end, though, the outcome would be the same.

“She’s been nothing but trouble,” my lieutenant grumbled.

“As is to be expected from one of her ilk.” Turning from the protected cottage with its merriment and good cheer—that wouldn’t last—I left, returning to the mill, which would begin shipping the amphoras of mud shortly.

Years in the planning. Now coming to fruition. I strode straight through, paying no mind to those bowing or prostrating themselves at my passage. The only one who didn’t scrape lay limp on the dock. All three heads resting on their chins. The skin dry and cracked. Did it know its use was coming to an end?

“Massstah.” The