Page 33 of Once Upon A Christmas Song

“Stop whining. Just bring back my kid and everything else.”

“Were there serving dishes I need to find? Did you make stuff?”

“We made cupcakes with—oh, I see what you mean. Thank you. Yes. Do not leave there without my Christmas platters. There should be four: one with the three wise men, one with angels, one with reindeer, and one with bells. They are all done in a midcentury motif and are worth a small fortune.”

“One wonders why you would send them to school, then?”

She was quiet.

“Isn’t you wanting the other mothers to see them kinda bitchy?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Isn’t pride a sin?”

“Never mind,” she grumbled. “You and the Bible are not acquainted. Don’t even act.”

“Says you.”

“Says everyone, and though I appreciate you giving me more time in the kitchen for my prep, we both know you were runnin’ away from that man of yours.”

“I wasn’t running away from⁠—”

“Where are we going?” Dawson asked from beside me, sunglasses on top of the cowboy hat now as he smiled at me, waiting for an answer.

“Is that him?” She cackled. “Did he follow you there?”

“Never mind,” I told her, pointing for Dawson’s benefit before we started up the stairs of the administration building. “Besides the platters, is there anything else?”

“No. Hopefully she got a few gifts, just so she felt included.”

“What does that mean?”

“That means we are not quite as well off as others at that school.”

“I don’t know that it matters where Cami is concerned. All the girls love her and want all the things she has. She’s like a style icon already.”

After a moment she said, “Perhaps.”

“She is. You know she is.”

“Anyway, I was kidding about the sherpa part. It really shouldn’t be too bad.”

“That is the kiss of death right there. Thanks a lot.”

Inside the building, I started across the ancient polished oak floors, admiring the glass cases lining the hallway, which broke off into several directions. You could continue straight and then take stairs up or down. You could go left, down a short flight of stairs that would lead you to another hallway, or take a right and have the same choice. I took a right and went down the stairs, while kids on the other side of the rail that divided us went up, heading home.

Finding Cami’s classroom, I was assaulted by the scent of pine and peppermint that was at least better than the scent of cinnamon and clove that it had been before Thanksgiving. I was a big lover of plain beeswax candles that smelled naturally like honey and nothing else. I would have had a migraine if I had to sit in that room all day.

“Why do all holiday candles smell like this?” Dawson asked, coughing.

“Be good,” I ordered him.

“Like being in here for a prolonged amount of time wouldn’t give you a migraine,” he said, arching an eyebrow.

There was no getting away with anything when the person who knew you best in the world was with you.

Cami was in her uniform, with stickers all over the front, and she was wearing a necklace made out of red and white lollypops. Her desk, from the floor to the chair to the actual top of it, was covered in gifts. We would need two people carrying, so it was actually lucky that Dawson was there.