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No, he couldn’t, darn it. They always watchedCop Stoptogether. That was their thing. And she baked him cookies for Christmas. And he always came to her open house and went home with a tinful. It wasn’t going to be the same without him. She grabbed her phone from the counter and called him.
“You reached Mitch. I’ll get back to you,” his recorded voice promised.
“I hear you’re still sick,” she said. “Feeling any better? I’ll save you some goodies from my open house.”
She half hoped he’d call back.
He didn’t.
Guests came and went—the various members of her Santa Walk committee and their families, her mom and Mario. Natalie and her family. Stef, Stef’s editor, Camille, and her husband. Viola and Terrill. And Elinor, who came and appeared ready to stay until New Year’s.
“She’s sure looking good these days,” James said to Frankie as they stood by the punch bowl, watching Elinor flirt with old Mr. Winchell from down the street.
“Yes, she is,” Frankie agreed. “And she’s certainly gained confidence.”
A little too much. Elinor hadn’t climbed out of her shell. She’d burst out of it. There was no putting her back now.
By seven, the party was winding down. People were getting ready for their own Christmases. “Great as always,” said Hazel, and gave Frankie a hug before parting.
Elinor was the last to leave. “Thanks for inviting me,” she said. “You’ve been so good to me. You’re the best boss ever.”
Her praise made Frankie squirm. She intended to cancel Elinor’s Christmas and ruin her new year by reclaiming Mitch, which probably qualified her to join the pantheon of holiday villains. Frankie Lane, Candy Cane Love Crusher.
But Elinor didn’t love Mitch. She couldn’t. They wouldn’t be happy together. There was only one woman in Carol he would be happy with, and that was Frankie, and they were going to fix this.
She called him again later, after getting home from attending Christmas Eve service with Natalie and her family. Still only his voicemail. He couldn’t bethatsick.
She tried him again on Christmas morning. No answer. “You’d better be dead,” she said after the beep.
He didn’t call back. She gave up on Mitch with a sigh, grabbed her shopping bag full of presents and walked down the street to Adele’s house for Christmas brunch.
Natalie and her family were there, and Warner was racing around the house with a toy airplane. Natalie looked like all mothers on Christmas morning—tired. But happy. She sat on the couch next to her husband, drinking decaf coffee with an arm draped over her baby bump.
“Hi, Mom!” she called.
“Merry Christmas,” Frankie said, kissing first her daughter and then her son-in-law.
Stef was setting dishes out on the dining table and called a cheery hello as Warner circled the table with his toy airplane. Frankie suspected that her sister’s good cheer had as much to do with her new man as it did with being with her family on Christmas Day. She hoped whatever was starting with Griffin Marks would blossom into something beautiful and lasting.
Warner stopped circling the table and ran over to give Frankie a big hug. “Nana, look what Santa brought me,” he said, holding up his toy.
“Lucky you,” said Frankie.
“It really flies, but I can’t do that unless Daddy’s with me, helping,” Warner explained.
“Good idea,” Frankie said.
That was the extent of Warner’s contribution to the conversation. He zoomed off and began racing around the table again, and Frankie hurried to add her presents to the collection under the tree.
“Is my daughter finally here?” Adele called from the kitchen.
“I’m here,” Frankie called back. She set out the last present, then went to join her mother.
Who already had kitchen help. If there was a prize for the woman with the most Christmas cheer, Adele would have won it, Frankie decided, seeing Adele and Mario working together on their breakfast. She couldn’t remember when she’d seen her mother smile so big. Adele had managedhappyover the years, but since Mario had arrived on the scene, she’d gone from happy to ecstatic.
There they stood, him adding canned pineapple to a fruit salad, her standing next to him, oven mitts on her hands. She was giggling over something he’d said. Giggling. Adele had never been a giggler, but she was now.
“What’s so funny?” Frankie asked, and kissed her mother’s cheek.
