Chapter 6 Sudden Onset of Enthusiasm #2
Mia beams like she’s just pulled off the heist of the century.
“Oh, I handled everything. You said earlier you needed to meet with the Ghost of Christmas Future, so I set it up while you were in the shower.” My daughter gestures to the café adjacent to the store.
“When I go to my skating lesson, you two can have your meeting. But first—books.”
I blink at her, then at Isla, still speechless that my sneaky daughter hijacked my text conversation with Isla. “I—”
“I can’t argue with that logic,” Isla interjects, smiling in a way that’s both tickled and self-assured. “Books.” She repeats the word like it’s sugar on her tongue.
I don’t usually invite people I’m not close with to hang out with my kid.
As a single parent, I need to trust any adults spending time with my daughter.
But I trust Isla enough, being Jason’s sister and all.
Plus, Mia has met Isla a few times, since my daughter and Jason’s kids are friends.
And this is just a quick bookstore outing, so… it’s fine.
“Books it is,” I grumble.
“Also, this Ghost of Christmas Future loves shopping.” Isla turns the full wattage of her smile and all her attention on Mia. “Tell me, what are you looking for?”
And just like that, the matchmaker is chatting with my kid about her favorite books as Mia guides us toward the kids’ section.
I follow, holding a ridiculously dressed dog and wondering how the hell I was outmaneuvered by a nine-year-old and a matchmaker in a pink snowflake scarf. Through my own cell phone, no less.
The kids’ section is decked out in holiday chaos. Wooden ornaments dangle from the shelves, and a table in the middle features a towering stack of Christmas-themed books. Mia beelines for a display marked Magical Holiday Reads!
Right at the top is Sleigh Bell Scout: Tales from the Tinsel Treasure Chest.
“They have it!” Mia says excitedly, reaching for the hardcover with glittery red-and-green lettering. “Can I get it?”
This is my chance to outmaneuver my kid. I stroke my beard like I’m deep in thought. “If memory serves, you wanted an Advent calendar.”
“Yes!” Mia says, bouncing on her sneakers.
“Then how about a book Advent calendar?” I propose. “You’d get a new book every few days under one condition.”
“Sure!”
“You read me a chapter a night,” I say, crossing my arms, playing the part of the stern dad but feeling pretty clever. Not that it’s a hard sell since Mia loves reading, but still, I’ll do anything to foster her love of books.
“It’s a deal,” she says, sticking out a hand.
But before we can shake, Isla clears her throat, stepping in like an attorney in a courtroom. “One second, please. I need to confer with my client.”
“You’re a lawyer now?” I ask.
“I’m representing the young reader, yes.”
I fight off a smile, unwilling to let on that this is amusing me, then gesture for them to go ahead. “Have at it.”
Isla pulls Mia aside next to a beanbag frog and whispers something to her, who gasps, her eyes going wide. Then Isla whispers again for several seconds. Mia nods, then marches back to me with newfound confidence, chin up, shoulders straight.
“How about a book a day?” Mia proposes.
“That’s a lot of books,” I counter. “You can’t read a book a day. That’s why I didn’t suggest a book a day.”
“But an Advent calendar is every day through Christmas Eve,” Isla says, like she’s caught me on a technicality.
And sure, maybe it is. But…“It doesn’t have to be,” I point out, clinging to reason. “A few books would make more sense. Be more practical.”
“A practical Advent calendar, Rowan?” Isla arches a brow as if unable to believe I’d suggest something so horrific.
“I don’t want to just collect books like they’re trinkets or toys,” I say…practically.
“Maybe I can’t read one a day, but I definitely can read them all year long,” Mia insists, taking over the argument from her counsel. “And, like you said, books are better than junk.”
“She’s got a point,” Isla chimes in with a mischievous smile.
“Plus, you can still have her read to you every night. And the long-term reading value, stretched out over twelve months, is fantastic. And fewer trips to the bookstore means more quality time for the two of you. And she’ll never be caught in that dreaded state of being without a book to read again. ”
I narrow my eyes at Isla. “You’re not supposed to help her team up against me.”
“Why not? She’s clever. I like clever people.” She tilts her head toward me, her smile deepening, then she nods to the fluffball in my arms. “She must get it from the dog.”
I snort. “Low blow.”
Isla laughs, and Wanda gives a little bark of agreement. I look at the critter in disappointment. “I thought you’d be on my side, at least, wonder pup.”
But she wags her tail Isla’s way, giving puppy-dog eyes to my best friend’s sister. Damn, even Wanda is making this hard for me.
“Nice sweater,” Isla says, while nodding to the dog. “She’s full of holiday spirit.”
I pluck at the offending garment. “Mia put this on her.”
Isla smirks a little. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
“She did,” I insist.
“Sure.” Isla lowers her voice and murmurs to Mia, “Or maybe your dad is a secret holiday fanatic.”
“Like someone from Whoville,” Mia interjects enthusiastically.
“I am not like anyone from Whoville.”
“A ‘Deck the Halls’ devotee,” Isla counters.
“Not one bit.”
“A ‘Let it Snow…’” Mia begins, and Isla finishes, “Lover.”
They high-five each other, then Isla turns back to me. “It’s fun teaming up against you. I can’t believe you were trying to pull off a practical version of an Advent calendar. Why don’t you just make one for chores while you’re at it?”
“Nothing wrong with chores.”
Isla grins and singsongs, “On the first day of Christmas, my grinch-father gave to me…a new vacuum to help clean!”
Ouch. Mia laughs, the perfect audience for Isla’s a cappella routine.
“On the second day of Christmas, the practical grinch gave to me…two wash rags and a new vacuum to help clean.”
Another burn.
Mia claps like the studio audience at Isla’s comedy special.
“On the third day of Christmas,” Mia and Isla sing together. I don’t know what’s worse—the lyrics or the fact that Mia has joined in on the opening line. Isla finishes with: “he gave to me…three brand-new brooms.”
More laughter blooms between them. Damn, the pair went from acquaintances to fast friends in the span of ten minutes. Sure, I’m still wary about who hangs out with my daughter—especially if that person is a woman for whom I harbor an inappropriate crush—but I don’t mind that they get along.
Doesn’t mean we need to do this every day. And it definitely doesn't mean anything more will come of any of this.
It just means this—right now—doesn’t suck.
Yeah, I hardly have a hate list.
When Mia stops laughing, she says, “See? She’s right, Dad. More books are more fun.” Then she swings her gaze to the woman in the snowflake scarf. “What a great idea, Isla.”
Isla grins at her. “I can’t resist reading or games.”
My sneaky kid grasps my hand. “Can I pick some books out now, Dad? I don’t have to be at Sabrina’s rink for fifteen minutes.”
“Make it fast,” I say, trying to wrestle some control back over the situation.
Mia hustles through the shelves like she’s a Supermarket Sweep contestant. I keep an eye on her even as I turn to the chestnut brunette. Isla’s teasing isn’t the worst thing in the world, but hell if I’m going to let on that being in her spotlight did something funny to my chest.
“Are you done poking fun at me?” Playing the hard-ass is safer with her, I reason.
“Was it that difficult to handle, tough guy?”
I shake my head. “Damn, you can dish it out.”
“And you can take it. I’ve seen you play hockey.”
Do you enjoy watching me on the ice? I want to ask. But that question needs to stay unasked for so many reasons. Like, one, it’s best not to flirt when I’m not looking for anything romantic, and two, she’s Jason’s sister.
I settle for a cocky, “So you’ve seen me win, then,” expecting a retort.
But Isla turns her attention to Mia, who’s standing on tiptoe to grab a book from the shelves. “That’s a good way to be practical. Fast book picking,” Isla says with fondness as Mia plucks a copy of The Reindeer Riders Club.
Isla looks back at me, giving me her trademark smile. “A book Advent calendar is pretty thoughtful,” she says in a soft voice.
“You were the one who worked out all the details,” I point out, giving credit where it’s due.
“Nah, you started it,” she says. “You had a good idea—I just made it better. Teamwork, right?”
In this moment, it almost feels like we’re friends, like she said the other night at the auction. But I don’t want to get lost in that feeling when we’re clearly either enemies or frenemies at best.
Speaking of teamwork—the underhanded variety—I grab my phone from my pocket at last, while checking to make sure Mia is still keeping busy in the kids’ section. “Guess I should see what the little meddler did. I hadn’t even read your full text yet.”
“That’s okay,” she says, lightly. “I was asking if you wanted to get together to talk about next steps for your Christmas matchmaking.”
I groan, dragging a hand down my face. With some dread, I open the text thread with Isla, and yup. Mia took all the way over, responding with: Sounds great! Why don’t we meet at An Open Book right now!!! Be there in fifteen minutes!!!
Plus, she added a smiley face.
I look at Isla, aghast. Fucking aghast. “There are seven exclamation points and an emoji. You didn’t think, I dunno, I’d been kidnapped?”
She taps her chin. “You’re right. Kidnapping is much more likely than a sudden onset of enthusiasm from you.”
I roll my eyes, then check my watch. “It’s game day. I need to be at the arena in an hour. Another time?” Maybe I can just avoid this altogether. Get out of this whole matchmaking situation, since that’s what it’ll be—a fiasco.
But Mia zips by again, stopping short and saying, “It’s okay.
Some time is better than none—this way you can get started.
Gramps is picking me up from my lesson, and we’re going to a new make-your-own-pizza place—the one that only uses organic ingredients—so we’re all set, Dad.
You go meet with Isla. Plus, you can tell her about Wanda.
And anyone you date needs to know about Wanda.
” Then, to Isla, Mia says, “Wanda likes girl pop.”
“Punk rock,” I mutter, then add, “also, you’re a meddler.”
“You’re welcome,” Mia says, then grabs another book.
She’s exhausting sometimes, sure. But damn, if her determination doesn’t make me proud. My kid didn’t just inherit my stubborn streak—she improved on it.
After I drop Mia off at the nearby rink, I stop at my car, grabbing the jean jacket I left there earlier.
I switch Wanda’s duds and head back toward the bustling bookstore café, scanning the packed tables then catching a view of Isla in the window as I’m walking up.
She tosses her coat over the back of her chair and fluffs out her hair.
Each small movement draws my attention more than it should, and it’s tempting to watch this snow angel through the window a little longer.
She fits here perfectly, her entire vibe matching the decor of the shop, down to the stockings hung on the wall.
Stockings.
A cruel memory flashes before me once more. A Christmas Eve years ago. A gift. A plan. But I bat it away as Isla pulls out that planner again—a reminder of the mission.
With Wanda curled up in my arm, since she’ll be going to doggy daycare this evening, I take a breath and head back inside, refusing to look at the stockings. I’d better get ready for the inevitable dating fiasco.