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I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose as a headache starts to throb between my eyes. “I told you I was leaving town today.”
“What are you talking about? You can’t leave town.”
Is she really this oblivious?
“I told you on Tuesday that I’m heading to Montana.”
“I thought you were kidding! What about your job? And your apartment?”
“I quit my job and gave up the lease on my apartment. I’m literally on the road to Whispering Pines right now.”
“Young lady, you turn that car around right now!”
A small huff of a laugh escapes me at my mom's tantrum. “I’m sorry, Mom,” I say, trying to sound calm. “But I’m not coming back.”
“You’re acting like a spoiled brat right now,” she spits out, firing up my anger again. “If it weren’t for me, you would have nothing!”
Jesus Christ, this woman is delusional with a capital D.
“Dad left me the money, not you.”
“He was my husband!” she argues back angrily as I fight to maintain control and not drive off the side of the highway. “So that car basically belongs to me, and I’m telling you that Trina deserves it more than you. She has an actual job to get to, something you clearly don’t understand.”
I grit my teeth trying to stay calm as I reply. “This is my car, not Trina’s, not David’s and not yours. Trina can use the subway, or a bus, or rideshare, or you can pick her up. Taking her to work is not my responsibility. It’s not my fault she ruined her credit and can’t afford a car of her own. If it’s so important to you, you buy her a car. Her and David were given the same inheritance from Dad that I was, it’s not my fault they’ve squandered away money that should have lasted them a lifetime.”
“Now you listen here—”
“No, you listen, Mom,” I cut her off before she can start in on me again, my patience reaching its limit. “I love you, and I don’t want to end our call like this. I know you don’t understand why I’m doing this, but it’s something I need to do. I just hope that as my mom, you’ll support me.”
I swallow nervously, hoping she will let us end on a not so sour note. She is my mom after all. But after a minute, she doesn’t respond, so I give it one last attempt. “I’d love to spend Christmas Day with you all. Maybe I can fly back on the twenty-fifth?”
I hear her sigh before she finally answers. “Yes, well, it wouldn’t do to take our annual Christmas photo without my youngest daughter in it.”
I roll my eyes, but a smile tugs at my lips. I know that’s her way of saying she loves me, too.
“Thanks, Mom, I should let you go so I can focus on driving.”
“Alright, Holly. Goodbye.”
“Bye, Mom. Love you.” The phone disconnects, and I frown at her disapproving tone and quick exit.
I let out a deep sigh and try to push the conversation from my head. Dwelling on it won’t help anything.
Instead, I focus on my destination, Whispering Pines.
It’s one of several small towns located at the base of Blackpine Mountains in Montana, known all over the country for their Christmas decorating and activities. The towns go all out with festive decorations, and there’s even a Christmas train that runs between them, playing Christmas music and offering holiday treats and drinks.
Since Christmas has always been my favorite time of year, partially thanks to my dad naming me Holly, I thought, what could be better than volunteering in Whispering Pines?
After spending the last two months working at the local hospice, I decided I wasn't cut out for that line of work. That’s what led me to decide I needed to get away from the busy streets of Chicago for a while.
The day after I left the hospice, I saw an ad for volunteers in Whispering Pines, the mountain town hosting this year’s Winter Festival. The photos made it look magical, and it felt like fate. So, I gave my landlord notice that I was leaving and packed everything up.
I just hope this small mountain town is half as good as I envision it.
Two days later, I’m starting to worry about my decision.
“Shit, it’s really coming down,” I whisper to myself as my wiper blades try to keep up with the fast-falling snow. If I had known we were expecting this much snow, I might have spent another night at that hotel instead of trying to drive along this winding road for the last leg of my journey.
