A Christmas Delight

10. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

Maisie

T he smell of butternut squash soup fills my nostrils as I walk through the door. I look down and see the power strip cable lying on the ground while it should be plugged to the wall.

“Why are the lights unplugged?” Joel saw her unplug it, so it’s not like I need to ask about it, but I want to hear her excuse for it.

“Oh, it was just too hard on my eyes,” Mom answers from the kitchen to the left. “I’m getting tired of seeing them every night.”

I bend over and plug it again. My house. My Christmas lights.

I take my coat and hat off, then, taking a deep breath, I join Mom in the kitchen. Andy and Nina’s idea seemed cool a few minutes ago, but now that I’ve learned Finn isn’t a nice guy, I’m nervous. “What are you making?”

“Soup and a salad. I thought you’d want something light after all those donuts.”

My teeth clench on their own, one of my body’s reflexes when my mom says something annoying. “I haven’t eaten any donuts today. I actually almost never eat them. I make them, that’s all. I think I’ve had, like, one since I opened my shop.”

She offers a tight smile. “Sure.”

“It’s the truth.”

“If you say so.”

Okay, Andy and Nina’s idea is genius. Perfect. Necessary. I need this woman out of my house. “Have you talked to Frank?”

She turns away from me, stirring the soup. “Why would I?”

“Because you might want to apologize.”

A scoff escapes her. “Why on earth would I do that?”

The next words slip out of my mouth, as smooth as velvet. “Because you broke his gingerbread house.”

She stops stirring and slowly turns around, glaring at me. It may not have been the best idea to lead with that, but the look on her face is worth it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says.

“I had him on the phone.” I intentionally leave out the fact that I called him, but I’m not really lying, either. “He’s devastated. He thinks you want to divorce him.” Okay, that is not true.

She scoffs again. “He’s being ridiculous.”

“You might lose him, Mom. Is that what you want?”

“He hurt me. What he said was uncalled for.”

I bite my tongue to keep myself from saying something that will send her over the edge and make things a whole lot worse. Like the fact that she was mean enough—or emotional enough—to call him fat along with stabbing gingerbread with her stilettos. “I think he will apologize if you reach out to him and talk. That’s all I’m asking for. Call him. Have a conversation with him. He will listen.”

“I am not calling him.”

“Then I am not going on a date with Finn,” I say, crossing my arms against my chest.

She lets out a chuckle of disbelief, but I look at her, deadpan. Her smile vanishes. “Are you serious?”

“Hm. I’ve been looking at shelters online. I saw several cats that need a home. My dream of becoming a cat lady is so close I could touch it. Smell it, even. Smells like cat food and litter box.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Maisie. You’ll regret it if you don’t go out and try to find someone.”

“At least it’ll spare me the headache of finding refuge in someone else’s house because I got into an argument with my husband.”

My phone beeps. I take it out of my pocket and see a text from an unknown number. I can already guess who it is. “It’s Finn.” I say, then read out loud, “Are you free on Tuesday evening?”

Mom’s eyes light up. “Tell him you are.”

“Nah, I’m busy that night. I have scarves to knit and frozen lasagna to eat.”

“Maisie.” She rounds the kitchen island and stands in front of me, her hands on my shoulders. “For crying out loud, please. I don’t want you to end up alone and miserable.”

I look her in the eyes, a small smile pulling at the corners of my lips. “Then call Frank.”

Her eyebrows shoot up, but she can’t hold a tiny smile. “Really? Blackmail? This doesn’t suit you.”

“Okay, I give up. Don’t call him. Anyway, I think those scarves need matching socks, so I’m gonna turn down Finn—”

“Fine. But you go first.”

“I’ll write the text but will send it after Frank picks up the phone.”

Mom inhales and steadies herself. “All right. You leave me no choice.”

“You do have a choice, actually.”

Before I can react, she snatches the phone from my hands and runs down the hallway.

“Mom!”

I go after her. She rushes to the bathroom and slams the door in my face, locking it.

“You can’t be serious!” I shout.

“I very much am serious. That’ll show you for trying to bargain with me. Two can play this game.”

Hot flashes erupt in my whole body. Who knows what kind of cringy thing she’ll tell Finn? I go back to the kitchen, and to my absolute delight, a familiar little object is waiting on the counter. I grab it and plant myself behind the bathroom door.

“You forgot your phone in the kitchen,” I sing.

I hear a small gasp through the door. “No, I didn’t.”

“I have it in my hand. Come out, please.”

“Not before I can send that text. There’s nothing you can do that will force me to talk to Frank.”

“We’ll see about that.”

I dial Frank’s number. He answers so fast it startles me. The poor guy said he didn’t want to run after her this time, but clearly, he was eager to hear from her.

“Doris?”

“Sorry, it’s Maisie.”

“Is everything okay? Why are you calling from her phone?”

“Because Mom wants to talk to you, but she just doesn’t know how.”

“No, I don’t!” Mom yells from the other side of the door.

“See,” I continue, “the reason she was so, um, reactive, is because she didn’t gain two pounds.” I pause for effect. “She gained six.”

An indignant cry falls out of Mom’s mouth, making me smile.

“And if she hates the gingerbread house so much it’s because she can’t help but eat it when no one’s looking. She, and I quote, ‘stuffs her face with it.’ Especially at night, when everyone’s asleep.”

“How dare you?” Mom says, though she’s still not opening the door.

“In fact, she has a secret stash of candy hidden under the mattress—”

The door flies open in front of me. “That’s enough.” She wrenches the phone out of my grip and pushes my own phone inside my hands. “Don’t listen to her, I am not hiding any candy, and I do not get up at night to eat your stupid gingerbread house.”

I might have pissed her off but at least she’s on the phone now. Hopefully something good comes out of it. I wish I could listen but she’s already closing the door to the spare bedroom. I open the messages on my phone to read what she sent to Finn.

Yes, I am free on Tuesday and would be thrilled to go out. Just not in a restaurant that serves fatty food. I’m on a diet.

“Oh my God.” I roll my eyes. Finn hasn’t answered yet, probably thinking I’m a weirdo, which would be a blessing. I don’t want to go on that date.

Just as I go back to the kitchen, my phone beeps. Crap.

Let’s meet in front of Di Giorno’s at 7. That good?

My whole face scrunches up as I reply, as though having a will of its own. Sure.

I feel icky. Mom is still in the spare room, talking to Frank, so maybe it was all worth it. I look through the window at the house next to mine. The room facing this side seems to be lit by the TV, its light casting dancing shadows across the walls. Something moves inside, and Joel appears at one of the open windows. I wonder why he keeps his windows open with such a biting cold outside.

He's about to close it when he sees me and pauses. A part of me is mortified that he caught me looking. I want to duck down and hide, but I don’t. His gaze keeps me rooted to the floor. Even from afar his eyes stir something inside me. I’m always afraid to bother him, always afraid he thinks I’m an idiot. But it’s not what I feel now as he looks at me.

I offer a little wave.

He smiles, just a little, and waves back before closing his window, then pulling the curtains shut.

It takes every fiber of my body to resist cancelling on Finn. I don’t want to be with anyone, so why can’t I stop thinking about Joel? Sure, he’s handsome in a gruff sort of way, but he’s probably not that different from other men. I bet he likes supermodels who don’t eat cereals for dinner and knit in their Christmas pajamas.

“That was really low.”

Mom’s voice startles me, and I turn to her. “Like you said, two can play that game.”

“A secret stash under the mattress, really? And I’ve never gained six pounds in my whole adult life! Not even when I was pregnant with you!”

“Mm-hm, Yeah, that’s great. What was that about me being on a diet?”

“Men don’t like women who eat too much. It makes them feel insecure.”

What did she smoke? I shake my head, deciding it’s not even worth getting into. “How did it go with Frank?”

“Well. He apologized. But not for the right thing.”

“What thing?”

“He’s sorry for calling me a control freak. And I’m really not, I just like order.”

I bite my tongue so hard I could make myself bleed. “Right.”

“But, well, that’s not enough.”

She looks away, and I can tell she won’t tell me more. She doesn’t know that Frank has already told me everything. He told her it’s her own fault I’m not close to her and don’t call her as much as I should. I don’t know if she doesn’t want to say it because she’s in denial and genuinely doesn’t believe it’s true or if she’s afraid I will confirm this theory should she ask me.

“But, like, have you made progress?” I ask, hopeful.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” She rounds the counter. “Grab two bowls for the soup.”

She’s shutting down. If I keep pushing, I’ll either get the tantrum or the silent treatment. I decide to say nothing and open the cupboard. All my things have changed place. I don’t even recognize anything, as though I’m not in my own house. “Where are my bowls?”

“In the cupboard to the left.”

“But that’s not where I put them.”

“It’s better like this.”

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

Those deep breaths don’t do much at unclenching my jaw as I bring Mom the bowls. We eat dinner in silence. She keeps looking anywhere but at me, and I don’t make an effort to engage, too upset about the cupboard thing. And the forced date with Finn. And the fact that this woman is going to ruin my Christmas.