CHAPTER ELEVEN
John
I pop the last dried apricot from the charcuterie board into my mouth. Only a few candied nuts and crumbs remain. Grandma has made enough of these she knows what everyone enjoys eating. Luckily, Abby has the same tastes. A sign? I hope so, since everyone seems to love her.
Grandpa stands and lightly taps his glass with a spoon, and I know what’s coming. “It’s time for our annual Christmas Day scavenger hunt.”
My family is all about traditions. Only this one gets competitive. That was fun when we were younger, but last year, Lizzy ended up stuck in a tree, trying to get a bird’s-eye view of the neighborhood, and the fire department had to be called. The year before that…
We don’t mention what happened. I try not to think about it, either.
I’m about to groan when Abby leans forward. “Scavenger hunt? That sounds fun.”
“Oh, it is,” Lizzy says with a wicked grin before I can say anything. “Hope you’re ready for some friendly competition. It gets intense.”
Abby nods. “I imagine so after seeing how you all play charades.”
I hold her hand. “I’ve got your back.”
“I’d hope so.” Lizzy makes a face. “Since Abby’s your girlfriend.”
“Yes, she is.” I kiss the top of Abby’s hand.
“We’ll divide into teams of two,” Grandpa says. Even though nothing changes each time we play, he wants to make sure our new guest isn’t left out. “Each team gets a list of items to find or tasks to complete. First team to finish everything and make it back here, wins the grand prize.”
“Which is?” Abby asks, sounding intrigued.
“Bragging rights for the year,” I say, enjoying how excited she seems. “And Grandma’s secret recipe book.”
Abby’s eyes light up. “We are so winning this.”
I love her enthusiasm. “Confident, are we?”
She bumps her shoulder against mine. “With you on my team? How can we lose?”
“Just make sure you dress warm and bring snacks,” I joke. “And go to the bathroom before we head out.”
Teams quickly form, and my family puts on their coats, hats, and gloves. As soon as we’re all together again, I’m handed a sealed envelope containing our list. The others get their lists.
Grandpa holds his arm up. “On your marks… Get set… Go !”
As we run out the front door, we tear our envelope open. My breath is visible in the cold air, but jogging down the snowy street keeps me warm.
Abby reads the list aloud:
1. A pinecone wearing a tiny hat
2. A photo of your team reflected in a Christmas ornament
3. Someone else’s dog wearing a holiday outfit
4. A snowman with a fruit for a nose (no carrots allowed!)
5. Your team spelling out “MERRY XMAS” using only your bodies
6. A stranger singing a line from “All I Want for Christmas Is You”
7. A receipt for a purchase made today
8. Your team recreating a famous movie scene with a holiday twist
9. A homemade snowflake at least 12 inches across
10. Proof that you completed a random act of kindness
My mind is already racing. “We need a strategy. Let’s start with the easier ones and work our way up.”
“We should hit the park first.” Abby’s competitive spirit is clearly kicking in. “We can knock out the pinecone and the snowman there.”
We take off running, the crisp winter air stinging our cheeks. At the park, we quickly find a pinecone, but the hat proves tricky.
“Wait.” Abby digs in her pocket and pulls out a scrunchie with a bow on it. “Will this work?”
I arrange the scrunchie on the pinecone. “You’re a genius.”
She preens playfully. “I know. Now, about that snowman…”
We gather snow into three lopsided balls, stacking them carefully. It doesn’t look half bad for as fast as we’re working, but…
“I don’t know where we’ll find fruit,” I say.
Abby pulls out an apple from her pocket. “I was told to bring snacks.”
“I was joking.”
“You’re my boss, so I always listen.” And I’m glad I went to the restroom before we left. “But I think the apple’s too big.”
“What about a grape?”
Abby gives me a look. “A grape won’t be visible in the photo.”
We settle on the clementine in Abby’s other pocket. I’ll need to teach her that snacks should be sugary. At least on Christmas Day.
I snap a photo of our citrus-nosed snowman with my phone. “He looks surprised.”
“Probably because he’s never seen two people so determined to win bragging rights,” she says. “Maybe we can find someone here to sing for us.”
We scan the park and spot a group of teenagers huddled around a portable speaker, music faintly audible.
“Teenagers?” I don’t think this will work. “They’re not exactly known for their Christmas spirit.”
“Watch and learn.”
I just hope I don’t end up in a fight and have to protect her, but I will if that’s what it takes.
Abby approaches the group with an easy smile on her face. “Merry Christmas. We’re on a scavenger hunt. Would anyone sing a line from ‘All I Want for Christmas Is You’ for us?”
They exchange glances, smirks tugging at their lips. One of them, a boy with a shock of blue hair, shrugs. “Sure, why not?”
He belts out the chorus with surprising enthusiasm, and his friends join in. I record them on my phone.
“Thank you so much!” she says, genuinely grateful.
“Happy to help,” the boy replies. “Good luck with your hunt.”
As we walk away, I expect her to tell me “I told you so,” but she doesn’t say a thing. I look at her. “You have a way with people. You know that?”
She shrugs. “What can I say? I’m good at reading a room. Or park, in this instance.”
“You certainly are,” I say. “I’m not. I’ve always been more of a numbers guy.”
“But you’re running our office?”
“Yes, but I’m more there as a fixer and to learn how to manage people.”
“Oh,” she says as if suddenly understanding. “We’re your guinea pigs.”
“In a way, but the staff also gets my number aptitude, too.”
“Then you’d better really be good at math,” she teases.
“It’s a valid point after how I treated you. But I’m planning to get some people skills from you.”
“Watch and learn.”
My gaze locks on hers. Logically, time can’t stop, but that’s how it feels to me. Everything and everyone else in the park fades away. It’s only the two of us. Color deepens on her cheeks. I don’t know if that’s because of me or her or the cold.
I clear my throat, breaking the spell. “Let’s try to find the next item.”
Finding a dog in a holiday outfit proves easier than expected. We run into Mrs. Henderson from down the street, walking her corgi, who is sporting a tiny Santa suit.
“Oh, how adorable.” Abby kneels to pet the dog. “Can I please take a photo for our scavenger hunt?”
“Of course, dear.” Mrs. Henderson adjusts the dog’s belt. “Anything to help young love.”
As my face heats, Abby smiles and says thanks. As we walk away, she slides her hand into mine. “Young love, huh?”
I squeeze her hand. “Well, the young part might be debatable, but the love…”
Abby stops walking, turning to face me. “John Barrington, are you saying you love me?”
My heart races. I’ve had feelings for her for months, but it’s too soon to tell her that when we’re only getting to know each other outside of work now. I can, however, say something, though. “You really want to know?”
“I really do.”
Okay, then. “I’m falling for you. Hard.”
“Good.” She brushes her lips over mine. “Because I’m falling for you, too.”
I nearly pump my fist. I must be grinning like an idiot, but I don’t care. Today can’t get any better. Then I think of a way it could. I pull Abby in for another kiss, deeper this time.
A car horn blares, and we move apart.
Lizzy leans out the window of her car. “Less smooching, more scavenging, lovebirds! We’re gonna beat you!”
As Lizzy drives off, Abby laughs. “Come on. We’ve got a scavenger hunt to win.”
The next hour is a whirlwind. We dash from place to place, crossing items off our list. We convince a group of carolers to help us spell out MERRY XMAS with our bodies, with Abby perched on my shoulders for the Y . We recreate the pottery wheel scene from Ghost , but with me shaping a snowball instead of clay, which has Abby bent over laughing.
As we head toward my grandparents’ house, an older gentleman shoveling his driveway waves at us. He’s only done about a quarter of it, which makes me point to one of the remaining items on our list—a random act of kindness—and Abby nods.
“Want some help?” I ask.
“I’d love a hand.” The man laughs. “Looks like Santa needed a little more time to give me what I needed for Christmas.”
I take his shovel and get started.
“Do you have another shovel?” Abby asks him.
He gets one from the garage. “While you do this, I’ll make some hot chocolate for when you’re finished.”
With both of us shoveling, it doesn’t take long since nothing has iced over and the snow is powdery. As soon as we set our shovels inside the garage, the man hands us each a cup of hot chocolate.
“Thanks,” he says, smiling. “You two have made my day.”
“Merry Christmas.” As we leave the freshly shoveled driveway, Abby practically skips, and I love seeing her so lighthearted after what she went through last night and this morning with her family. “This has been the best Christmas.”
“Even with my loud family, over-the-top charades, and this scavenger hunt?” I regret the words as soon as I say them. I shouldn’t have asked that, knowing what her Christmases are like with her family.
She nods emphatically. “Because of those things. Your family is wonderful. They’ve made me feel so welcome. And this?” She waves our list in the air. “This is fun. I can’t remember the last time I’ve laughed this much on Christmas.”
My heart swells with affection. “I’m glad. You deserve all the happiness, Abby.”
She holds my hand. “So do you, John.”
We’re interrupted by my phone buzzing. It’s a text.
Lizzy: Better hurry up, slowpokes. We’re on our last item.
“We better get moving,” I say. “All we have left is the Christmas ornament reflection photo.”
“Where are we going to find a big enough ornament?” Abby asks.
An idea strikes me. “I know just the place.”
I lead her to the town square, where a massive Christmas tree stands. Hanging from its lowest branches are huge, shiny ornaments, each one at least a foot in diameter.
“Perfect,” Abby breathes.
We position ourselves in front of one of the silver orbs, our reflections distorted but visible. I hold my phone up to take the picture but pause.
“What?” Abby asks.
I smile at her. “Nothing. I’m glad you’re here with me.”
Her expression softens. “Me too.”
As Abby stands on her tiptoes to kiss my cheek, I take a photo. The reflection shot could be clearer, but it’ll work. We find the final item, a receipt, on the ground. Yes, luck is on our side today.
We hurry to my grandparents’ house, careful not to fall in the snow. Seeing my family’s holiday traditions through Abby’s eyes makes me realize how much I’ve taken them for granted over the years. I open the door for her to go first.
Abby pants. “Did we make it?”
Grandpa checks his watch. “Just in time! Show me what you found.”
We present our photos and items, explaining each one. When we get to the ornament reflection photo, there’s a collective “aww” from the family. I hold Abby’s hand.
“Well,” Grandpa says, looking around at the other teams. “We have our winners!”
The room erupts with cheers, and Grandma presents us her recipe book. “Congratulations, dears. Although I think you’ve already won the best prize of all.”
With flushed cheeks and bright eyes, Abby glows with happiness.
I have a feeling I must look the same. “Yeah, we have.”
As the family disperses, talking about dinner preparations and afternoon naps, Abby tugs on my hand. “Thank you for bringing me here today. For sharing your family with me. It means more than I can say.”