10. Alex
10
ALEX
L ocking the door to my house, I hurry toward my truck, eager to give myself enough time to get to Quinn’s place before our dinner reservation at Tasty Harvest for five-fifteen. As I reach the driver’s door, my father pulls up to the curb in front of my house. Immediately, my good mood dissipates at the sight, his timing awful as always.
“Dad, I’m on my way out,” I inform him as he steps out of the driver’s side. “Why didn’t you text?”
I don’t see my mother until she opens the passenger side door, and I groan aloud before I can stop myself. It’s an ambush. “Hey, Mom.”
“Are you going to the festival?” Dad asks, wandering up the driveway. He eyes my shrubs critically, and I wait for him to make a comment about the length or type, but to my surprise, he simply waits for me to answer.
“Er… yes,” I respond. “Eventually. But first, I actually…” I pause, unsure if I should tell them, but I reason it will get me out of here faster. “I have a date tonight.”
Mom’s face lights up like a firecracker. “You do? With who? I didn’t know you were seeing anyone!”
Even Dad appears impressed. “Someone from the station?” he asks, and I shake my head.
“No. She’s a teacher.”
“A teacher?” Mom echoes, and I again prepare myself for some kind of comparison to my brothers. “How lovely.”
My brow furrows, and I eye them suspiciously. “She is,” I agree. “We went to school together, actually. You might know the Tanners.” They look at one another and shrug, but I don’t pursue the conversation. I wave my keys deliberately. “But she is waiting for me,” I remind them. “Will I see you guys at the park?”
“Yes,” Mom says. “But before you go, your father and I want to tell you something. That’s why we stopped by unannounced like this.”
“We can do it later, honey,” Dad says, and she nods, but now I’m intrigued. It’s not unusual for them to pop by, but they’re both acting strange.
I glance at the time on my cell phone and shake my head. “It’s okay. Tell me. What’s going on?”
“Really, it can wait, Alex—” Mom says, but Dad has never shared her sense of decorum.
“We’re moving to Florida,” he blurts out.
“And we’re leaving you the house,” she adds.
Shocked, my arms fall to my sides. “W-what?” I sputter. “You’re what?”
“I know, it’s a longer discussion, but plans are moving quickly, and we’re looking to leave right after the new year. That’s when our condo in Fort Lauderdale closes, so we thought we should give you some time to plan, maybe put your house on the market, if that’s what you want to do,” Dad explains, his words rushing out in a torrent.
“Or you could rent it out for extra income,” Mom suggests.
Dumfounded, I gape at them, unsure of what to say. “I… what?”
“I know this seems sudden, but we’ve been talking about this for a while,” she explains. “And with you boys spread all over the country now…”
My brow furrows in concentration. I feel like I’m missing something.
“Are you sure this is what you want to do?” I ask. “Florida?”
“The cold weather is really affecting me,” Dad admits. “As much as I love Holly Ridge, it’s not good for my health. I need somewhere warmer.”
“And we can always come back and visit,” Mom pipes in.
“Again, this is a much longer discussion than we have time for right now,” Dad tells me. “Go enjoy your date, and we’ll talk later in the weekend. Put this in your back pocket for now.”
“I… I will, Dad,” I say, a fusion of pity and gratitude sweeping over me. “Are you sure you want to give me the house?”
Mom sighs and shoots Dad a look. “You see? I told you he’d ask that.”
Dad steps closer and drops his hand on my shoulder. “Alex, I know you think we’ve been hardest on you, but we’ve always just wanted you to be happy. Of course we want you to have the house. You’re our son, the only one who stayed home. You deserve it.”
Emotion wells inside me, and I swallow thickly. “Okay, Dad.”
He pulls me in for a stiff hug, and I return it, but he releases me just as quickly. I embrace my mom and head toward my truck, still reeling from the news. The drive to Quinn’s is a blur, my mind swimming.
Quinn notices my discombobulation when I pick her up and comments right away. “Are you okay? You seem a little out of it.”
I flash her a smile as I steer the truck toward the center of town. “I just had a really weird conversation with my parents. It seems they’re moving to Florida in the new year.”
Quinn arcs an eyebrow. “Really? How do you feel about that?”
“I’m not sure yet,” I admit with a laugh. “There seems to be a lot of that going around, huh? Figuring out how to navigate feelings.”
She grins and reaches for my hand, squeezing it gently. “There’s no harm in taking the time to process.”
I return her gentle hold, relishing the warmth of her fingers in mine, and I find a parking spot in the bustling downtown core.
The last of the sun fades away to reveal the rooftop lights illuminating the businesses on Main Street. Hanging metal spirals in green and red sway in the wind from the garlands draped around the awnings, each storefront and restaurant display windows painted with snowmen, elves, and gingerbread men.
I draw in a deep, contented breath as I open the door of Tasty Harvest to let Quinn in ahead of me and let the magic wash over me.
Our dinner conversation lasts so long, we’re forced to take it on the road, lest we miss the lighting of the tree.
“Oh, we never really got a chance to go through the festival,” Quinn complains apologetically.
I chuckle, extending my arm for her to take as we cross Huckleberry Lane to enter the park together.
“I don’t know about you, but I think I’ve probably seen everything the festival has to offer at least twenty-five times by now,” I laugh.
“That sounds about right,” Quinn giggles. “It was refreshing to have the scavenger hunt this year. As something new for once. But you’re right, there are so many ugly sweater contests one person can take.”
“We’ll still be there for the carolers, and the vendors will be there until late. Plus, there’s always the hot chocolate stand.”
She grins. “It’s my kryptonite,” she informs me. “Hot chocolate.”
“Noted.”
Arm-in-arm, we make our way toward the giant blue spruce in the middle of the park, falling among the already massive crowd forming.
“There they are!” I say, pointing toward the teen couple who won.
They see us, too, and wave frantically, their smiles as bright as Rudolph’s nose. They climb into the cherry picker together as the crowd claps, Drew taking the microphone.
“Thank you all for coming!” the mayor calls out, and the group cheers. “I’m the mayor of this charming town, Drew Pierce, and I am pleased to be the one emceeing this year’s tree lighting ceremony!”
The crowd whoops gleefully. Drew waits for the people to settle before continuing. “As you may have heard, we had a special event this year, a new event that we hope to continue every year going forward. A scavenger hunt, brought to you by the hard-working folks at the Holly Ridge Christmas Festival committee, headed by our own, Edna Monroe. The competition was fierce, let me tell you—I know. I was eliminated quickly.”
Everyone laughs appreciatively.
“However, two very deserving young people won the great honor of placing the star on the tree and will flip the switch to commemorate the official start of our holiday season here in Holly Ridge. Give it up for this year’s winners of the scavenger hunt!”
The crowd goes ballistic, and Quinn steps closer to me.
“I’m glad we let them win,” she whispers, and I nod, pressing my arm against hers.
“Me too. I’m afraid of heights.”
She whips her head toward me. “What?!”
I grin, and she rolls her eyes. “You’re joking,” she laughs.
Dropping her head on my shoulder, we watch the cherry picker rise toward the top of the tree, the teens raising their arms to place the star on the tip. The applause barely falters, but when they flick on the lights, there’s a collective gasp.
A thousand brilliant lights illuminate the branches of the spruce, the blues, greens, reds, and whites flickering against the dusting of snow. As if on cue, flakes begin to fall from the sky.
Quinn and I look up in tandem, confused by the sudden onset of snow. “Is that real?” I ask, everyone else looking up in unison.
Her cheeks flushing. “Good timing, huh?” she chuckles, her eyes locking on mine.
My smile falters slightly as our eyes remain locked.
“Good timing,” I concede, brushing a stray strand of dark hair away from her face. She tilts her head back more, urging my lips closer, and I press my mouth to hers. I savor the sweetness of the moment, the cheers and hollers dulling around us as I realize that we’re going to be all right.
All is forgiven and forgotten. This Christmas is about moving forward. We’re not looking back again.