Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
The credits of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer scrolled across the television screen, the faint glow adding to the twinkling light of the Christmas tree in the otherwise darkened living room.
Imogen leaned back against the cushions of her well-worn sofa, glancing down to see if Katie was still awake.
She was, nestled against her mother’s shoulder, but Imogen could see that her eyes were getting heavy.
“One more movie,” Katie yawned, and Imogen laughed, a contented smile on her lips as she leaned down to press a quick kiss against her daughter’s hair.
“I think that might be enough Christmas magic for one night,” Imogen said, gently dislodging her arm so that she could sit up and set her empty hot cocoa mug down on the coffee table.
The remnants of their movie night were scattered across it—a half-empty bowl of popcorn dusted with seasoning, a plate of peppermint hot chocolate cookies with mostly crumbs left on it, and Katie’s empty hot cocoa mug sitting next to the glasses that they’d used for milk with their cookies earlier.
It had been a night full of Christmas cheer, junk food and sugar, and Imogen was glad it had been such a success.
Katie yawned widely again, and Imogen chuckled. “I think it’s time for bed, sweetheart,” she said, sitting up to start gathering the dishes and take them back into the kitchen. She thought she might leave the cleanup for the morning; she was tired too.
“Mommm.” Katie flopped back against the cushions. “It’s not even that late.”
“Isn’t it?” Imogen glanced at the cuckoo clock that hung on the wall just to the right of the television, a family heirloom that she’d managed to hang onto even after everything had fallen apart in her love life, not long after Katie had been born.
“It’s after ten, and you have school tomorrow.
Just a little longer, and you’ll be out for Christmas break,” she added. “Then we can stay up later, okay?”
Katie sighed dramatically, the way only a seven-year-old could. “Fiiine,” she mumbled, yawning again. “But can we watch The Grinch tomorrow? And have more of those cookies and milk?”
“You’re going to turn into Santa yourself.
” Imogen reached out, ruffling her daughter’s hair.
“But we’ll see, alright? She gathered up the empty mugs and dishes, carrying them to the kitchen and setting it all in the sink, after taking the few remaining cookies and slipping them into the snowman cookie jar sitting on her counter.
She’d had to squeeze in baking them between the long holiday hours at the chocolate shop and dropping off the hot cocoa powder deliveries to Lincoln at the rink, but she was glad she’d made time for it.
Nights like these with her daughter were ones she’d remember long after Katie had grown up.
She hoped she’d have them with her for years to come, even after Katie was a teenager and then an adult.
She’d always been close with her daughter, and she was grateful for it.
Katie liked spending time with her mom, and didn’t try to shrug her off the way other kids did sometimes.
Imogen hoped that would continue even as she got older, and she tried to make sure that she did everything she could to make sure that they stayed close.
“Run upstairs and get ready for bed,” Imogen called out, poking her head around the edge of the kitchen door to see if Katie was still on the couch. “I’ll be up in a minute to tuck you in.”
Katie reluctantly peeled herself off of the couch, stretching with another yawn as she came into the kitchen where Imogen was still stacking dishes.
“Tonight was great, Mom. Thanks for doing all of this.” She wrapped her arms around her mother’s waist in a tight hug, before padding off toward the stairs, her festive fluffy snowflake socks sliding against the hardwood.
Imogen watched her go, feeling her heart warm with a contented happiness that she always felt when she was at home with her daughter like this.
It made it all worth it—all the long days at the shop, the running back and forth to make sure that she was getting to all the necessary parental events and showing up for recitals and play dates, the never-ending schedules that were two jobs’ worth of hours, sometimes.
There was nowhere she’d rather be, and she felt that they had everything they needed.
She and Katie had made their own perfect, cozy little life.
She followed Katie up the stairs, the old wood creaking under her feet.
She loved the old home she’d purchased for them years ago, wanting a fresh start after her husband had left.
It was never hard to sell a home in Fir Tree Grove, where there were always more people wanting to buy than there were those willing to move out, and she’d easily offloaded the pretty ranch house that she’d had with her husband.
Fortunately, not long after, the quaint cottage of her dreams had come on the market, and she’d settled down there with her new baby, making her own home just the way she wanted it.
She made her way down the hall to Katie’s room, the path dimly lit by the nightlight that made it easy in case Katie needed to get up in the middle of the night, swapped out for a green light instead of the usual clear for the holiday season.
Katie’s door was still ajar, and Imogen found her already tucked in bed, wearing the Christmas bow pajamas that they’d picked out together a month ago.
She was reading a children’s book about unicorns, propped up against the mountain of pillows on her princess-decorated bed, and Imogen came to sit down next to her, brushing the tulle canopy of the bed aside.
“Time for sleep, sweetie,” Imogen said, taking the book and setting it on the nightstand. “You don’t want to be tired for school tomorrow.”
“Okay,” Katie mumbled, clearly on the verge of falling asleep already. “Can I help make truffles at the shop tomorrow after school?”
Imogen laughed. “We’ll see. I think we’re running low on truffles, you’re right. We might need to make a batch. Or maybe some peppermint bark?”
Katie looked pleased at that possibility, snuggling down into her blankets as Imogen gave her a kiss on the forehead. “Sweet dreams,” she whispered, tucking the blankets up around her daughter before she got up to head back downstairs.
She’d thought about leaving the cleanup for the morning, but she knew she should just tough it out and finish up before bed. She’d have plenty to do in the morning already, with getting Katie ready for school before heading to the chocolate shop.
With a tired sigh, she went to the living room, folding the throw blankets and rearranging the couch pillows, wiping down the coffee table to get the crumbs from the cookies they’d enjoyed.
The scent of peppermint and chocolate still lingered in the air, mingled with the fresh scent of pine from the Christmas tree they’d picked out together from George Lowery’s farm the weekend before.
Imogen glanced at the tree, feeling a touch of pride.
The lights were twinkling merrily, the tree covered in ornaments, most of them handmade.
She’d kept several from her own childhood, and she and Katie made a set of new ornaments together every year.
When Katie had been too small to help, Imogen had made them herself, with the baby gurgling merrily along next to her as she worked.
As Katie got older, they’d each made one of their own every holiday season, and now a third of the tree or so was covered with those special ornaments.
Christmas was her favorite time of year. It always had been, and it was even more so now that she shared it with Katie. There was something even more magical about seeing the season through the eyes of a child, experiencing it all every year at a new age.
With the living room straightened, she headed into the kitchen to wash the dishes.
She rolled up her sleeves and started the hot water, stifling a yawn as she did so.
There simply weren’t enough hours in the day normally, she thought, between running the shop and being a single mother.
The holidays, while wonderful, only added to that never-ending list of things to do that there simply wasn’t enough time for, while still managing to sleep.
She was averaging about five hours a night at this point, she thought.
She was grateful for how busy the shop always was, but by the time she handled everything there, ran to pick Katie up from her after-school programs or went to school events, handled delivery drop-offs, and cooked meals, she barely had time to breathe sometimes.
But somehow, as soon as Katie looked at her with those excited eyes for something like their planned movie night earlier, Imogen always found herself getting a second wind.
That was what motherhood was all about, she supposed. Finding reserves of energy that she didn’t know she had, all for the tiny human who brought her so much joy.
She put the last dish in the drying rack and rolled her shoulders and neck, stretching out the tension there.
As she hung the snowflake-printed dishtowel that she’d used back on the hook by the sink, she couldn’t help, for just a second, picturing what it might be like to have someone next to her.
Some rugged, handsome man, holding a second dishtowel and drying the dishes before putting them in the cupboard.
Or maybe one who would have done the dishes while she was straightening the living room, so they both could have gotten to bed earlier.
It was difficult not to linger on the fantasy for a second longer, imagining someone sitting next to her as they watched Christmas movies. Handing her tape as they wrapped presents. Making hot cocoa as she popped popcorn for their family movie nights—