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"Okay, girls. We'd better get home," Cormac said, sounding tired. "You guys have big plans?" He looked between me and Callan as he helped the girls down from their chairs.
"Distillery," Callan said, and Cormac nodded.
"Have a good time," Cormac said, looking a little wistful. I would have invited him to come along, but I knew he couldn't, not with two little girls to look after.
14
Cats are Christmassy Too - Even Half Cats
Callan
As I escorted April out the door and into the truck, I felt a new and foreign satisfaction working its way through me. I watched her snap her seatbelt into place and something inside me snapped along with it. The house felt like a home now, between the furniture arriving daily and the somewhat ambitious decorating, but mostly because of my nieces and Cormac…and because of April. This place—Singletree, or Christmas Tree, or whatever they were calling it today—felt more like home than San Diego really ever had.
Sure, there I’d had a stellar career, one I’d loved very much. But that was all I was there, all I had. Without soccer, I was being forced to figure out what else I was. And while I realized I’d need to discover some kind of purpose before long—I was still young and if I couldn't be a soccer player, I needed to decide what I was going to be when I grew up—at least a few things were falling into place.
"We going to go or just sit here admiring your twinkle lights?" April's voice broke me from my contemplation, which I hadn't realized had been going on an inappropriately long time while I sat behind the wheel.
"Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking…"
"About…?"
I smiled at her. We hadn't known each other long, but in some ways, she had been the catalyst that had made me start moving again toward a healthier place. "About this place, the people I've met since moving here."
"A little quirky, huh?" April clearly thought I was talking about some of the townspeople. I smiled, feeling my chest warm as I included them in my thoughts of happiness at my new home.
"Yep," I smiled back. It was much too early to admit to April that I’d mostly been thinking of her, wishing there was some way to keep her here. "I like it though," I said, starting the car.
"It's a lot," April said. "The house we did today was pretty normal though—a cute little farmhouse just outside town."
I glanced at her, encouraging her to continue. I loved listening to her talk. Her voice was low and sonorous, dancing with her expressions, ranging up and down as she spoke.
"The woman who lived there—Mrs. Easter—was so sweet. She's all by herself, but she seemed really content in this cute little house, and she made all the decorations herself." April's voice trailed off a bit and she gazed out the window ahead of them. "She gave me a wreath."
"Really?" I smiled over at her. "Did you burn it?"
April shot me a look, her lips pressed firmly together and her eyes narrowed. "No. It's in my room. It's really pretty."
"A Christmas wreath, April?"
"Yes."
"I think your little Scroogey heart is starting to thaw," I teased.
I felt April's eyes on me then as she said, "Yeah, I think it is, actually."
I guided the car into the distillery parking lot beneath the huge Half-Cat sign, which had the image of the hand-drawn cat in his little wheeled contraption on it. We both gazed at the odd picture for a moment as we stood next to the car.
"Shall we?" I asked, offering April my arm. The wind whipped up around us a bit, sending the chilly air rustling through April's loose hair and prying at our collars and scarves with frosty fingers as we walked to the front door.
We stepped inside, and were immediately confronted with a choice. A huge sign read "Distillery" and had an arrow pointing to the left. Beneath it read "Bar" and the arrow pointed to the right.
"Which way?" April wondered aloud as she unbuttoned her coat.
"Let's check out the distillery first," I suggested, and we headed to the left.
We followed a narrow hallway filled with black and white photos of men rolling barrels, of strange-looking metal kettles and tanks, and of trucks poised outside the brick building, filled with kegs. There were a few newer shots in color, one of them featuring a tall lanky man with a familiar face.
"Hey guys," the face from the photo was the same one that greeted us now from the entrance door of the distillery. "You’re the stowaways, right? From the sleigh!"
