AllFreeNovel
Share Us
A strangled sound erupted from Annabelle's mouth and she shook her head. "I'm so sorry," she said.
"What? Why are you sorry?" I had no idea what was happening, but a surge of concern welled up in me for my friend. Annabelle and I might not have known each other long, but I genuinely cared about her—and about all the other people I’d met in this strange little town.
"Mr. Whitewood, erm…Callan, asked me to give this to you." She pressed the box gently toward me as my heart began to sink inside me.
The box was full of my belongings—the things I’d taken to Callan's and left there. Most of my clothes had been at Callan's house. Until they were put into this box and dropped off here. What had happened? Confusion and hurt made it hard to think. Why would he stuff my things into a box and drop them off without even seeing me? I quickly checked my phone, looking for an explanation, but there was nothing from him at all.
"What? What did he say?" I asked Annabelle.
"He was angry, April." Annabelle was crying softly, tears running down her cheeks. "He said he'd spoken to his lawyer."
"What?" My head spinning, I tried to make sense of this. "His lawyer?"
Annabelle was just nodding now, her eyes wide as if in anticipation of me falling to pieces suddenly. I thought she just might, once I figured out exactly what was happening.
His lawyer.
"Oh god," I said, realization dawning. "The new contract." My uncle had said that legal had already forwarded the new contract. Callan must've seen it already—seen the network's changed intention to feature him on the show along with his house. "Oh no." I dropped the box on a nearby table, knocking askew a tree made from peppermint candies, and rushed to the side of the lobby to get some privacy, my phone in my hand.
I dialed Callan's number, but he didn't pick up. When his voicemail played, I struggled to find the right words. "Callan, it's me. I was about to come over…Annabelle gave me the box… but, the contract, Callan, it's not what you think, it's—" I trailed off, unsure how to explain, and the long beep sounded, ending the recording.
I texted him:
April: Can we talk? There's been a misunderstanding. Don't worry about the contract.
I waited for a reply. As I began to worry it simply wasn't going to come, three dots danced at the side of my screen. After what felt like an eternity, a reply came:
Callan: I understand. You should have asked me. My house will not be on the show and neither will I. We are done here.
Pain shot through my chest. Done?
April: Can't I explain?
Callan's silence was the only answer, and though I waited another ten minutes, nothing more appeared on my screen. Finally, I pushed my phone into my pocket and walked back over to where Annabelle stood, wringing her hands.
"Did you speak to him?" Annabelle asked.
"He doesn't want to talk to me," I said, shock fading and turning to something much darker, much more painful. The silver lights twinkling all around us in the lobby, coupled with the oversized candy canes and army of nutcrackers had begun to feel as if they were closing in on me, leering at me, laughing at me. Even Annabelle seemed like she might actually be wearing that ridiculous costume just as a means of making fun of me.
Suddenly, the holiday felt exactly as it always had—worse. Red and green and all things merry would always remind me of heartbreak and devastation, and now I knew it would be that way for the rest of my life.
"I'm going to go upstairs, Annabelle," I said, picking up my box. "I'll talk to you tomorrow." Without waiting for an answer, I went to the elevator, shielding my eyes against the glow of faux candles lining the mantlepiece on the lobby wall and trying in vain to block out the sound of carols playing over the sound system throughout the inn.
20
Smashing the Snow Globe
Callan
Ishould have known it was all too good to be true.
April.
Singletree.
This house.
My life.
