Chapter 8
8
Holly
December 20
Hudson Valley, New York
The next day is sunny and the roads are free of snow, so Holly decides to venture into town on her own. She parks her vintage baby blue BMW in front of an antique shop in the middle of Krimbo, gets out of her car, and stands for a moment, taking in the shop’s window display: Santa’s workshop, featuring a collection of vintage toys, hobbyhorses, music boxes with dancing ballerinas on top, a cranberry-and-popcorn-strung tree with brown paper packages crowded at its base. Holly came to the Hudson Valley and Krimbo to get away from Christmas because it only reminded her of her wedding that wasn’t, but the holiday season in this charming town is different from any of her memories. She enjoys herself as she walks slowly along the street, peering in shopwindows at seasonal displays as she goes.
When she sees a store with a bright yellow sign that says “Krimbo Home Video,” she decides she has to go in and look around. She thought video rental stores had gone the way of telephone booths and landlines—but also recalls a small TV-DVD combo at the cabin.
Inside the video store, the shelves are lined with VHS and DVD cases, and she can’t seem to figure out what the organization system is. When she passes It’s a Wonderful Life , A Christmas Carol , The Lemon Drop Kid , and White Christmas , she finally realizes every single movie on display is a Christmas film, all shelved by decade.
She moves along to another aisle: There’s Benji’s Very Own Christmas Story , and a terrifying-looking holiday-themed horror movie called Bloody Night .
In the ’80s section, there’s Ernest Saves Christmas , National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation , Scrooged , and more. She starts snapping photos to send to Ivy, who immediately texts back asking to see more. Have you time-traveled? Are you in a…movie rental store?
All editions of “Home Alone” have their special section, look! All decorated with tinsel and Christmas lights.
Holly keeps walking through the tiny aisles, snapping photos for her friend and smiling to herself.
Christmas horror? who knew that was a genre? she texts Ivy.
You have to rent at least one scary Christmas movie. I insist.
Do you think someone staying alone in a secluded cabin should be renting horror movies?
Go to the eighties section. Eighties horror movies are more like comedies, you know that. Also, you promise you’re renting the Nicole Kidman one you just sent me called “A Bush Christmas”?
Holly snorts with laughter just as she rounds a corner—and runs straight into Aiden. His pleasantly familiar woodsy-spicy scent hits her nostrils just as the electricity of his blue-eyed gaze zings through her mind. She’s almost certain her heart skips a beat.
“I heard someone laughing back here and had to see who it was,” he says.
“You’re in here renting videos, too?”
He suddenly looks shy. “Actually, no,” he says. “I was across the street and saw you come in here. I wanted to say hi.”
This makes Holly feel inordinately pleased. Standing near Aiden, she feels like her entire being is at attention. He leans down, lowers his voice. “Honestly, I don’t know how this place stays in business, but a lot of people in this town love renting movies. Most of those people are over sixty.”
Holly laughs. “Don’t knock it,” she says, holding up A Bush Christmas . “I’m renting one for tonight.”
“You’ll have to tell me how it is.”
“I’m sure it’s full of eighties corniness. I can’t wait.”
He waits while she rents the movie from a clerk who looks like a real-life version of Comic Book Guy from The Simpsons , and they walk outside together. The day has turned gently overcast; fluffy snowflakes are starting to fall. The snow globe effect turns the little town even more festive—but Holly frowns at the snowfall, remembering her lack of winter tires.
Aiden seems to read her thoughts.
“I promise, I’m not giving you a hard time about not having snow tires—but I have an idea.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Snowmobile? ATV? Probably not my thing.”
He laughs. “Nope. When I first moved back here from Boston, I had a sedan. I still have the winter tires in my garage. I’m sure they’d fit on your car—and there’s a garage in town that can put them on. I can give Ellie a call right now to see if she has time this morning?”
“Really, you’d do that?”
“The tires are just sitting there. Someone should be using them. Hang on.” Aiden calls the mechanic. “Ellie says to bring the car and the tires right over,” he says when he hangs up. “I just need to run home and get them—I’m five minutes away—and I’ll meet you at the garage.”
“You’re sure it’s not too much trouble?”
Aiden waves off her protests and gives her directions to the garage—while she becomes more certain than ever that Krimbo is a town where helping one another is just part of the daily routine, and that kindhearted Aiden fits in perfectly.
“Want to grab lunch while you wait for your car to be ready?”
“Absolutely, I’m starving,” Holly says. She and Aiden walk side by side, companionably, down Krimbo’s Main Street and soon reach a café with a quaint red, white, and green striped awning and an artfully painted sign that says “Seventh Heaven” in cursive script.
Inside, holiday music is piping from the stereo, and there are delicious smells emanating from the kitchen. “Coffee?” Aiden asks, walking casually behind the counter and reaching for the pot and two mugs.
“Guess you’re familiar enough with the owner?”
Holly hears the light tinkle of a laugh. “You could say that!” A willowy woman with high cheekbones, wide-set dark eyes, and a welcoming smile pushes her way through the forest green swinging doors leading from the kitchen into the café. She’s carrying a tray of cookies.
“Hi, I’m Sidra.” Her smile widens. “Aiden’s sister-in-law. I own this café with Aiden’s sister, Alexa.”
“And this is Holly Beech—an old high school friend,” Aiden says. “She’s renting the cabin up on the North Service Road for the holidays.”
“Nice spot,” says Sidra.
Aiden pours two steaming mugs of coffee and hands one to Holly with a jug of cream. Holly stirs, sips, says, “Wow. This might just be the best coffee I’ve ever had.”
“Sidra roasts the beans herself,” Aiden says proudly, taking a sip of his own brew. “Where’s Alexa today, Sid?”
“Mondays are her enforced day off,” Sidra says with a smile.
“And she’s actually not here? You’re sure she’s not hiding behind the door in there?”
“I left her at home with the weekend New York Times , which she of course didn’t get to over the weekend, and strict instructions to relax.”
Aiden and Sidra both laugh, as if the idea of Alexa relaxing is highly unlikely.
“What can I get you two?” Sidra asks. “Daily sandwich?”
Aiden turns to Holly. “Sidra and Alex bake their own bread, raise their own chickens, pickle their own everything. Whatever the special is today, you’re guaranteed to love it.”
Sidra heads back into the kitchen and soon emerges with two sandwiches on white plates dotted with a holly-berry pattern. “It’s your favorite today, Aiden. The Krimbo Klub.”
Two customers have entered and taken seats, waving hello to both Sidra and Aiden. “Two specials?” Sidra calls out. “Coming right up!”
Sidra busies herself with a few more customers as Holly takes a bite of her sandwich. “What is in this? It’s incredible—and not just because I’m starving.”
“The Krimbo Klub has turkey, turkey bacon, avocado…” He’s counting the ingredients off on his fingers, and pauses. “House cream cheese, pickled onions, peperoncini. Their secret sauce, which my own sister won’t even tell me the ingredients for—all on their home-baked sweet French roll.”
“You sound like a sandwich board.”
“I would wear a sandwich board for this sandwich.”
They eat in silence for a while, watching townspeople walk by in the soft snow. Most people either wave in greeting or come inside. Everyone orders the sandwich of the day, and either coffee or hot chocolate—and most people cast curious glances over at Holly.
When Holly crumples up her wax paper, Aiden asks if she’s ready for dessert.
She groans. “I’m stuffed, but also totally down for dessert.”
“That’s the right attitude.”
“I’m a team player, Aiden.”
He laughs and stands. When he goes behind the counter, he effortlessly serves a few customers in the increasingly crowded café, pouring coffees and using rose gold tongs to place cookies and pastries on little plates before returning to their table holding a plate with two cookies. They’re thick, dark chocolate, coated in icing and covered in red and green sprinkles.
“I just ate an entire hoagie,” Holly says, eyes wide. “I’m not sure I’m ready for a cookie of that size.”
“Just one bite, see how you feel.”
She goes ahead.
“I love this cookie,” she says. “I want to marry this cookie. I want to make an honest cookie out of it. What is it?”
He laughs. “It’s a peppermint snowdrift.” He thinks for a moment. “Basically, dark chocolate cookie batter around a peppermint patty. It’s my grandma’s recipe. If there’s a better cookie in the world, I don’t know what it is. Except they have, like, a dozen other flavors at the café, and they’re all comparable. The cookie flavors, like the sandwiches, rotate. So you never know what you’re going to get from day to day.”
“It’s so good.” Holly dabs at the corners of her mouth with a paper napkin. “Do I have frosting on my face?” she asks.
He shakes his head and laughs.
“So, when did you move out here to this perfect little town?”
“My grandparents always lived in Krimbo, but my parents came out here in my senior year. My mom got sick.”
“Oh—is that why you didn’t come to grad, your mom was sick? I’m so sorry, Aiden.”
“You noticed? That I wasn’t at grad?”
“Of course I did. I was dying to get your SAT scores out of you, remember?” She raises an eyebrow, but he shakes his head.
“Still not giving them up. But, yeah. Krimbo has always felt like home base because we spent a lot of time out here when my mom was in treatment. Moving here was just a formality.”
“And she’s doing okay now?” Holly asks with concern.
“She’s doing amazing. She had breast cancer, but she’s had clear scans every year for the past seven.”
“That’s great, Aiden. My nana was diagnosed with cancer two years ago, and she fought so hard.”
“Fought?” Now Aiden’s eyes are the ones clouded with concern.
“She passed away last year.”
“I’m so sorry, Holly.”
“Thank you. We were close; it was hard. That’s her car I brought here. She left it to me because we used to go on a road trip together in it every year. Such good memories in that car. I should have rented something else to drive, I know that—but I always find it so comforting. It still smells like her. Chanel No. 5.” Holly’s smile is wistful now.
“I think I remember your nana from school plays and events. She looked just like you, and always sat right up at the front.”
There’s a lump in Holly’s throat as she nods and says, “Yes. That was her. My favorite person in the world.” She looks down at her empty plate, blinks away tears. “My family aren’t the warmest people. It’s always about acheivements and status. That’s probably why I was so competitive in high school. But Nana was the one who always reminded me I was enough—just me. Not all the things I did.”
“You’re definitely enough, Holly,” Aiden says, his blue eyes bright, his voice suddenly husky with emotion. “You always have been.”
Under his gaze, Holly feels as if time has stopped—or perhaps gone backward. All at once, it’s like she’s spinning, her body flooded with adrenaline that feels like joy. She looks away from him, breaking the intense connection and feeling bereft after she does. “Thank you for listening.” She looks back up at him when she’s sure she has her emotions under control. “Should we help Sidra out by carrying these empty plates back to the kitchen? It’s still pretty slammed in here.”
They both get up from the table and, to what Holly is certain is her relief, the confusing moment between them is over.
Back at the garage, the tires are on Holly’s car and it’s ready for the snowy conditions—and Ellie the mechanic won’t accept payment, forever cementing Krimbo in Holly’s mind as the nicest town in America.
Aiden walks her to her car, parked out in front of the garage, and they stand looking at each other for a moment as the peaceful snow falls between them. All at once, Holly feels an impulse she can’t resist. “Aiden, would you like to come over for dinner and a movie tonight? As a thank-you for the tires and for all your help?”
She can’t read his expression, and hopes she hasn’t made a fool of herself. “You really don’t have to do anything to thank me,” he says.
“But I want to.”
He smiles, and his ice-blue eyes turn warm. Her insides turn warm, too. “Then I’d love to.”
“Seven o’clock give you enough time to work up an appetite again after that lunch?”
“Perfect.”
Holly only brought yoga and sweat pants, T-shirts, sweatshirts, and heavy knits on her trip to the Hudson Valley—but after taking a freezing-cold shower and thawing out her hair, she still finds herself agonizing over what to wear for her evening with Aiden. It doesn’t matter, she finally tells herself. He’s just an old high school friend coming over for ramen noodles, which she plans to doctor up using a recipe she and Ivy developed in college.
She grabs the first T-shirt she can find, one Ivy bought her as a souvenir from her last art retreat—it’s as bright pink as the interior of a watermelon and says “Nobody Puts Baby in a Corner” on the front, and “Catskills, NY” on the back. She pulls on her one pair of yoga pants that sort of, maybe don’t look like yoga pants. She didn’t bring any makeup, just skin-care products, so she swipes on lip balm and smoothes it over her brows, too. “This is not a date,” she says to the mirror. The woman staring back at her may or may not agree.
She hears a beep from her phone and picks it up. It’s her brother, Ted. Checking in, sis. You surviving out there? Have you gone full-on Laura Ingalls, built your own smoker, are you out hunting on the land for protein sources?
Ha ha ha , she texts back. For your information, I managed to bag a hoagie today. Roughing it isn’t that bad.
A pause. You’re okay, though? Sure you don’t want to come back and join us for Christmas? Mom’s pretty agitated about the whole thing.
My Christmas present from you is that you handle Mom this year. I’m staying where I am. And I’m fine. Ivy and I have a big table booked at Alice on NYE. You and Ming can come to that, and I’ll see you then. xx
She’s in the cabin’s little kitchen performing the minimal amount of prep work required to make the dish she’s planning—chopping ginger and garlic, washing and chopping spinach and kale—when she hears Aiden’s truck rumbling up the snowy driveway. As the pace of her heartbeat picks up, Holly tells herself she’s just excited to see another person, that’s all.
“Hello!” Holly opens the door wide and invites Aiden in. He takes off his snow boots and jacket, then holds up a little cloth bag. “I come bearing gifts. ’Tis the season, after all.”
“I’m the one who owes you . That’s what this dinner is for.”
“You don’t owe me anything, Holly,” he says, his expression suddenly grave.
“Well.” She finds herself caught off guard. She’s used to Matt, she supposes, who always makes a joke of everything, who voices his every fleeting thought, even if it’s inappropriate or rude. She can tell Aiden never does that. “I’m still very grateful.”
“I was happy to help.” He follows her toward the kitchen. “I wasn’t sure what would go with what you were making, so I brought craft beer.” He pulls a six-pack from the bag. “This is from my favorite local brewery.”
“Looks great.”
“But then I also didn’t necessarily peg you for a beer person, so I also grabbed a pinot gris”—he pulls out a bottle—“from a winery in the Finger Lakes, not far from here.”
“This is far too generous of you.” She picks one of the beer bottles out of its cardboard case. “I feel like I have to try a beer called the Kringle Krusher, don’t I?”
He laughs. “Right? They also have an Abominable Winter Ale, but the Krusher is my favorite. And I brought a jar of hot sauce made by my grandma’s friend Nell.” He reaches into his cloth bag again and holds up a jar hand-labeled Nell’s 5-Alarm Sauce. “She also has twelve-alarm,” he says. “But no one in town has ever tried it except Nell’s husband.”
“That’s perfect. I’m making Dr. Ramen, and it always needs hot sauce.”
“I’ve heard of Mr. Noodles, but…”
“It’s a recipe Ivy and I came up with in college. It involves doctoring up Mr. Noodles with…” She uses her fingers to count off the ingredients. “Ginger, garlic, butter, sesame seeds, soy sauce, and a ton of spinach, kale, or whatever greens you have on hand. Hot sauce or chili crisp and a frizzled egg on top. Elevated ramen.”
“That actually sounds pretty good.”
“Well, you’re about to find out.”
Holly pours them each a beer, then takes a sip. She looks down at the label. “I have a soft spot for festive alliteration—I met Ivy at a college keg party called the Columbia-U Christmas Kegger, which is playing fast and loose with the concept of alliteration, I guess.” Briefly, she tells the story of how she and Ivy met—but finds herself leaving Matt out of it altogether. “By the end of the night, we knew we were meant to be. We’ve been best friends ever since.”
“I’d love to meet her someday,” Aiden says. “Where did you say she was spending the holidays?”
Holly’s throat goes dry, and she takes another sip of her beer. “Hawaii,” she manages. “Artist’s retreat.”
She slides a small dish of pistachios toward him. “I’m afraid I don’t have much in the way of appetizers to go with our cocktails, sorry. Pistachio?”
Aiden laughs. “Cocktails,” he repeats.
“What’s so funny?”
“I don’t know. We’re in a tiny cabin in the middle of nowhere drinking beer, but I guess you’re more used to fancy cocktail parties.”
“I wouldn’t say I like them, though. This is much more fun.” She isn’t sure what has happened, but she feels suddenly off-kilter. She hasn’t seen Aiden since high school, but it feels like he knows her well.
“So, tell me more about your life in Krimbo,” she says, hoping to distract from her blushing cheeks, disconcerted by how frequently being near Aiden is making her feel this way. “Your grandparents and parents were out here, your sister followed suit, and you…?”
“I didn’t mean to move here, actually. It just sort of…” He thinks for a moment, but all he says is, “…just sort of happened. I’ve been officially living out here for a year.”
“And before that, you were at MIT. So, you lived in Cambridge?” He hasn’t been offering a ton of detail about his life, and she can’t help but press now, her curiosity about what he’s been up to for the past ten years growing the more time they spend together.
“Right, I was in Cambridge for a couple years. But—” His eyes have darkened, like a shadowy storm cloud has passed over a blue sky on a perfect day. “Actually, I’m an MIT dropout. I didn’t finish my degree.”
She feels like she’s channeling her mother as she tries to deflect the awkward silence that follows by standing up and saying chirpily, “Guess I’d better get started on dinner.” As she melts butter in a skillet and turns the water on to boil the noodles, she changes the topic, hoping to lighten the mood. “Do you keep in touch with anyone from school?”
“Not really,” he says. “Do you?”
“Do you remember Josie Cheng and Lachlan Schneider? We get together every spring and go to Coney Island, just for old times’ sake.” She thinks for a moment. “Actually, the last time we got together, they told me Ricky Exeter had been indicted on corporate fraud charges. Apparently he developed a Ponzi scheme he couldn’t get anyone to go for, so he took it to Palm Springs and his gran’s retirement community.”
Aiden winces, then nods. “That tracks. Ricky fancied himself a diabolical genius.” He sips his beer, tilts his head. “Actually, I do have something. Did you hear that Mr. Abrams, the math teacher, and Ms. Malla, the art teacher, left their respective partners and married each other?”
“Nooooo way!” Holly squeals, feeling like a teenager again—feeling the way she does around Ivy, she realizes. Relaxed, like she can be herself. “I always thought it was weird how much time Ms. Malla spent in the math room! How did you find that out?”
“I ran into them last summer at a restaurant in the city.” His expression grows serious again, the way it had before. “I know gossip is wrong, but why does talking about people you used to know feel so good?”
She laughs. “It’s pure entertainment, but you feel a connection to it. Imagine hearing gossip about your best friend or a family member. Terrible feeling. You’d have to tell them. An old schoolmate, though? Someone you once knew, but don’t anymore. Feels like catnip.”
They keep chatting as she stir-fries the garlic and ginger in the butter, then adds the greens and soy sauce. She boils and drains the ramen noodles, then puts them in the pan, mixing them up with the rest of the ingredients.
“It smells amazing . I can’t believe this is all happening with a few packs of instant noodles.”
She pushes the noodles to the side, and adds sesame oil and the hot sauce Aiden brought. When it sizzles, she cracks two eggs and fries them until the yolks are just set. She scoops the noodles and greens into soup bowls, tops each bowl with an egg, and sprinkles sesame seeds on top.
“That looks like it came from a restaurant.”
“Don’t be too impressed. It’s literally the only thing I can cook.”
“Well, I am impressed.”
“Want some wine with this?”
“Sure. Here, let me open it. Juice glasses okay?”
“Perfect,” Holly says.
When he takes a bite of the noodles, he closes his eyes, a blissful expression on his face. “These are amazing.”
She smiles at the compliment, then pours the wine and passes him a glass.
He takes a sip, then another bite. “ So good. Alex and Sid should start serving this at the café. In fact, these are so good, I think…”
“You think what ?”
He has a mischevious expression on his face. “I think if you tell me yours, I’ll tell you mine.”
She squeals. “You mean our SAT scores?”
He nods.
“2160,” she says.
“Impressive score,” he says, poker-faced.
“It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me. 2160 is a tough act to follow,” she says with a wink.
“You’re right,” he says, his expression still unreadable. “It is.”
“Aw, come on!” she erupts. “Fair’s fair. You agreed.”
He laughs. “Hey, you just said I didn’t have to.”
“I was trying to apply reverse psychology. I’ve been dying to know your score all these years.”
“Have you really? All these years, you’ve wondered?” There’s something to his words she still can’t quite decode. His expression is changing again, softening. She finds herself drawn closer to him, leaning toward him in her stool.
“I have!” she insists, reaching over and touching his arm under his soft flannel shirt, not quite sure why she can’t stop herself from doing so.
A long pause. She waits.
“2300,” he finally says quietly.
“Excuse me? Can you repeat that?”
“2300,” he says louder, and with a grin.
“Aiden! That’s a great score! You left me in your dust. Congratulations.”
“I’ll admit it, I really wanted to beat you. It started to become a point of pride to do better than the legendary Holly Beech, when I was at college on scholarship. All these years later, though…it hardly seems to matter.”
“Oh, come on. Look at your face. It totally matters.”
“You’re right.” He smiles mischievously. “It totally matters. Hey, are you done with your food?” She nods and he stands, clearing the plates as she thinks about what he said earlier, about being an MIT dropout. With an SAT score like that, why didn’t he finish college? But as comfortable as she is with him, she doesn’t feel she can ask. It seems like a sore spot, and she doesn’t want to pry.
“You’re my guest. You don’t clean up,” she says, jumping up from her stool.
“Out of the question. I was raised to do the dishes when someone else cooks. You have to let me, or my mom will find out and ground me. One of the perils of living in the same small town as your parents.”
She laughs. “Okay then—but you have to let me dry.”
After they wash and dry the dishes, Aiden declines another glass of wine because he has to drive, but says yes to a coffee to go with the movie. Teenage Nicole Kidman manages to save Christmas and her family’s farm, but they’re chatting so much they barely pay attention, and soon the movie’s credits are rolling.
“I have an early morning,” Aiden says, and she thinks he sounds regretful. She knows she is. She doesn’t want the night to end. “I should get going. But this has been a great night, Holly. Thank you.”
Holly walks him to the door. “Thank you, Aiden. For everything.” She steps out onto the deck with him, into air so cold it sparkles in the moonlight with tiny flecks of snow. She looks up and sees all the familiar constellations hanging above the evergreens. “Wow,” she breathes. “I know these stars are always here, but I can’t see them in the city. This place is exactly what I needed.”
“This is the best spot for stargazing.”
But when she looks away from the sky, she sees that Aiden is watching her, not the stars. His eyes are bright in the darkness. “I won’t pry,” he says. “But I will say that getting outdoors in winter always helps if something is bothering me.”
“You mean eating ramen noodles, sleeping in, and watching holiday movies is not the solution to all life’s problems?”
He laughs. “No, those are amazing choices, too. But so is fresh air. Watching stars—or, when it’s light out, there are some maps to hiking and ski trails in the guidebook. And snowshoes, cross-country skis, and skates in the shed. The code to unlock it is ‘SNOWY.’?”
“I love to skate,” Holly says. “I haven’t in ages.”
“There’s a pretty good outdoor rink in the town square—but to be honest, the best skating around here is on the river. Only you can’t do that alone. It’s not safe.”
“Oh. Well…”
“I can take you,” he says quickly, almost sounding relieved at the idea. “I’m tied up tomorrow, but the afternoon after that?”
Holly doesn’t know if he’s asked her to go skating on the river because he feels sorry for her, or because he actually wants to—all she knows is the invitation has created a warm bloom of happiness in her chest. “I’d love to, Aiden.”
“Great. Midafternoon okay?” She nods. “The skates in the shed may need a sharpening and a tune-up, so let’s meet at McLaren Sports, five doors down from the grocery store, at three. Good night, Holly.”
He continues to look down at her, thoughtful. She has the sudden image of herself standing on her tiptoes to reach his lips, brushing hers against his. What would that feel like? But she can’t. She’s like a statue. And then he’s turning away, waving when he reaches his truck.
He waves again through the windshield, and then he’s gone.