The Christmas Countdown

Chapter 2

Saturday, December 1

I stared at the colorfully wrapped pyramid of boxes lining the wall next to my reading nook. They were of all shapes and sizes, stacked together to resemble a Christmas tree. The packages each had a different number written on them, which I could tell Anita had added in thick silver pen.

My eyes darted across the plethora of festive paper—pictures of round snowmen and holiday cookies, candy canes and silver stars, jolly Santas and prancing reindeer. Some had gingerbread men. Others featured sets of glittery-green Grinches with wicked grins, which resonated with me the most.

“I can’t believe you finished your shopping this early,” I said. “You normally do a frenzied dash right before the stores close on Christmas Eve that somehow stresses me out.” I looked a little closer. “Gosh, there must be dozens of packages.”

“Two dozen, to be exact,” Anita replied.

“Why so many? Who are they for?”

“ You ,” she said, watching me intently, her eyes sparkling again.

“Are you kidding?”

“Nope. Remember what Mom made when we were little? The pouches with candies and notes?”

“The tasks ’n’ treats Advent calendars?” I said, a wave of nostalgia rippling across my heart. “Of course I remember. They were our favorite thing in the countdown to Christmas.”

I must’ve been about six when our mother started the tradition back in Pineville. On the first day of December, Mom presented Anita and me with a set of twenty-four pouches each, hung with red-and-green ribbon along the main floor banister.

Every morning until Christmas, my sister and I were allowed to open one colorful bag. Along with a piece of our favorite candy, they’d also contained a handwritten task or treat note.

Task days were jolly assignments for Anita and me to carry out, things such as helping a neighbor shovel snow or paying everyone we met on the way to school a genuine compliment. Treat days were rewards for our good deeds, like reading two bedtime stories with Dad or choosing a family movie to watch that night.

Our very special countdown to Christmas tradition had been filled with these daily surprises, and I’d lain in bed every night, tucked in and snuggly warm, eagerly awaiting what tomorrow morning’s bag would bring. Now, and despite my boycotting the holidays this year, I couldn’t stop the warmth from the memories cradling my heart.

“You made this for me?” I forced down the lump growing in my throat. We hadn’t had one of Mom’s Advent calendars since insisting we’d outgrown them in middle school, and Anita deciding to revive the tradition was such a kind gesture. “Is this why you sent me grocery shopping? To get me out of the house?”

“Only so I could stack the boxes,” Anita said. “I finished planning and wrapping this baby weeks ago.” She flopped on the sofa, and I followed suit as her face turned serious. “I wanted to cheer you up. I worry about you.”

“Why? I’ve told you, I’m fine.”

Anita sighed as Dazey padded over and jumped into her lap but continued to ignore me. “I know you say you’re getting over Oliver, but since you moved in here, you’ve practically turned into a recluse.”

“I go to the office—”

“Callie Elise Meyer,” she said sternly. “Going there doesn’t count. Besides, you work from home two days a week, meaning you barely go out for four.”

“I’m happy here,” I countered. “I love our place.”

Anita smiled and tickled Dazey’s ears. “It is a great apartment, but you need to—”

“Please don’t say it.”

“ Get out there ,” Anita insisted, making me groan for real this time. “Before you launch into a speech about how you’re not ready to date and blah-blah-blah”—she made a sweeping gesture—“this Advent calendar challenge is about helping you reclaim your joie de vivre in all kinds of different ways. To get you back to the Callie I know and love.”

My heart sank as I realized Anita was trying to use something from our childhood to push me out of what she’d decided was my comfort zone. “There’s nothing wrong with my joie de vivre,” I muttered.

“Right,” Anita said. “If I ask what’s underneath those sweatpants, will you admit it’s your pajamas?” When I wrinkled my nose in lieu of an answer, she laughed. “Look, you spent a decade with Oliver—”

“Much to your chagrin.”

“Not true and not fair. I never disliked him as a person, at least not until he stuffed your heart in a blender. Up until then he was always perfectly…nice.”

“You called him boring.”

“Yeah, well, this isn’t about him,” Anita said. “It’s about you , rediscovering who you are. I want to see you smile again.”

“Well, mission partially accomplished because I’m smiling.” I leaned over and pulled her in for a hug. “Thank you for that.”

“Don’t thank me yet. You have no idea what the daily tasks are.”

I let her go and sat back. “Lemme guess. Ice climbing? An obstacle course? Getting another cat that detests me?”

Anita guffawed. “Nope, and I’m not spoiling the surprise. But same as Mom’s Advent calendar when we were kids, mine comes with its own rules.”

“ Rules ? You don’t do rules, you silly goose.”

“Maybe not, but you do.”

Crossing my arms, I said, “Okay, let’s hear them. And so we’re clear, this doesn’t mean I’m agreeing to participate.”

“There are two. First, you may recall that I asked you not to make plans for any evening or weekend in December.”

“I believe I replied it wouldn’t be a problem because my social life is—”

“Flatlining.”

“I’m pretty sure the term I used was spotty .”

“Same thing.” She grinned. “The rule still stands. Don’t make plans.”

“All right. What’s the other one?”

“Well, I upgraded the treats, so I’m sure you’ll approve of those, but on task days, you have to do whatever the Advent calendar says, no questions asked.”

“Very funny,” I said, but when she didn’t reply and just stared at me, I added, “Wait, you’re serious?”

Anita gave me a single nod. “If you don’t do what the calendar says, you forfeit the next treat, and trust me, you’ll want them all.”

“This is wild.” I pointed at one of the wrapped boxes, wishing I had X-ray vision. “For all I know, there’s a ghost pepper in there you’ll tell me to eat.”

“Come on, they’re not that hot.”

“Really?” I said. “When you dished up chili con carne last week, I almost stuck my face in a bag of frozen peas. No, you’ll have to give me some clues, or I won’t play.”

“No clues for you, Cautious Callie,” Anita announced, using one of my family’s favorite nicknames. “This Advent calendar’s a take-it-or-leave-it situation. Tell you what: I’ll throw in an extra incentive. If you complete all the calendar tasks, I’ll do your laundry for three months.”

“Nice try. You travel for work all the time.”

“Okay, forget that one. How’s this: I’ll never offer to set you up on a date again.”

“Ha,” I scoffed. I’d shut her suggestions down three times last month alone. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Anita sighed. “Fine. I’ll stop going on at you about coming to Pineville with me, too.”

This gave me pause. Anita would be home for the holidays for the first time in three years. She’d spent the last few seasons working hard, taking on increasingly difficult and complex projects while moving up the corporate ladder. It was understandable that she wanted a family celebration this year and had bugged me for months about going with her, but I couldn’t face it.

“You’ll honestly stop trying to convince me?” I asked.

“Cross my heart.”

I was about to see what else I could wrangle out of my sister, but my cell rang, not only making Dazey sprint to Anita’s bedroom because the cat wasn’t a fan of loud noises, but also interrupting my savvy negotiation strategy.

My colleague Hazel’s name appeared on the screen, and I hoped it wasn’t an accounting emergency requiring a Sunday trip to Whitlock & Blake. As much as I loved working alongside her since joining the company’s finance department in early April, I bet neither of us wanted to return to work until Monday.

“I’m so glad I caught you.” Hazel sounded breathless when I answered the phone. She was a few years older than me, had a wicked sense of humor, and had been a loyal member of the company for a dozen or so years. Although I wasn’t an avid gym goer or a hockey and basketball fan like her, we’d immediately bonded when she’d seen my copy of Ruth Ware’s latest masterpiece, and multiple book recommendations had been traded ever since.

“What’s going on?” I asked. “Is everything okay with you and Mikey?”

“Yes, we’re fine. I picked him up from tae kwon do half an hour ago, and I swear the kid still has energy to burn.” She waited a second. “I thought it best to call now because you might need a moment or ten for the shock to sink in.”

“What shock?” I said, discomfort creeping into my belly. “I’m not getting fired, am I?”

“Gosh, no,” Hazel replied quickly. “Why would you think that? You’re the best accountant I’ve ever met. No, I think Jennifer left.”

“ What ? Are you sure?”

“I think so. I left my mom’s birthday card in my desk yesterday, and when I went back for it tonight, Jennifer was in her office, stuffing her things into a cardboard box.”

“Did you talk to her?” I asked.

“Tim was there, so I snuck out, but she seemed furious.”

I sank further into the sofa, and as I gestured at Anita, indicating I needed a minute, I wondered if Tim Preston, the company’s CEO, and Jennifer had really parted ways. “She’s the best boss I’ve ever had. What do you think happened?”

“I don’t know,” Hazel answered. “A few months before you joined there were rumors about the finance team no longer reporting directly to Tim, but to—”

“Please don’t say Grant McGregor.”

“Well, he is the chief operating officer.”

“And Tim’s son-in-law,” I added.

“Not to mention a monumental ass,” Hazel concluded. “He and Jennifer never got along.”

She was right, but Grant McGregor being an ass wasn’t the only problem. He was Oliver’s boss, too. Unlike my ex, I hadn’t had a job lined up in Fallbrook, but when Jennifer, Whitlock & Blake’s finance director, found out I was an accountant and asked for my résumé, she’d offered me a position I couldn’t refuse.

There’d been no issues with Oliver and me dating and working for the same company. There were over sixty of us in the various departments here, spread over two different floors—me on the second, him on the third—but now Oliver and I had split up, and if Jennifer had left and the finance team reported to Grant…

Would that mean Oliver and I would have to sit in the same meetings, participate in team-building activities? Months ago, I’d longed for that possibility, having elaborate fantasies of me entering a room looking so fabulous, my ex would drop to his knees and declare how leaving me had been the biggest mistake of his life. I no longer wanted that. I needed space to focus on my job and move on from the rest, including him.

“Perhaps Jennifer’s relocating to a different office,” I said. “Or worst-case scenario, they’re replacing her with someone external and won’t change the reporting lines.”

After we theorized some more, and Hazel promised to let me know if she heard anything else, we hung up. I immediately told Anita everything, ending with a winded, “What will I do? I don’t want Jennifer to leave. What if my new boss sucks? What if I have to report to Grant? That would mean Oliver and I—”

“Slow down, Callie. You’re catastrophizing,” Anita said, which stressed me out some more. Somehow my sister never worried about anything. She was so laid back, she was practically horizontal.

“But if it happens, what will I do?”

“You’ll get another job,” Anita said gently. “Any company would be lucky to have you.”

“No,” I said firmly. “I like the role I have, and a stint of less than a year on my résumé won’t look great.” I threw my hands in the air. “Gah. This is all I’ll be thinking about until Monday. I need a distraction.”

Anita fake-coughed and gestured to the giant tree-shaped Advent calendar. “All you need to do is trust me…and agree to be a bit spontaneous. Don’t worry, we’ll do the tasks together, and every day in between you’ll get a break, and a treat, of course. It’ll be fun, and you need fun.”

I wanted to argue, but Anita was the best sister I could’ve asked for and, despite everything, the stack of boxes had made my curiosity bloom.

“ Please ?” she repeated, throwing in a doe-eyed look.

I laughed, waving my hands in defeat and hoping I wouldn’t regret it. “All right, all right. Let your Advent calendar challenge begin.”

“Terrific.” Anita jumped up. “In that case, you need to find the first box.”

It was an easy task, considering the package sat near the top. The parcel was around eighteen inches square by five inches deep and wrapped in candy-cane motif paper. As I pulled it from the pile, I was surprised to find that the box didn’t weigh much.

“We’re starting with a treat,” Anita said. “I’m easing you into the holiday spirit.”

“What holiday spirit? You know I’m not celebrating this year.”

My sister smiled. “Open it.”

After attempting to peel away a corner of tape, I gave in and ripped into the paper, revealing an old and dented cardboard box. I dropped the shredded candy-cane paper on the floor as I read the handwritten note my sister had stuck on top of the lid.

You’re craftier than you think.

My eyes widened as I opened the box and recognized what was inside. “These are the old Christmas tree decorations we made together,” I said.

Sure enough, at the top of the pile sat an over-two-decades-old round, plastic ornament, most of its original shiny red surface rendered invisible because we’d covered it in a mess of gold, green, and blue glitter glue before adding as many gold star stickers as we could find.

“Remember how we were so proud of that thing?” Anita asked. “We wouldn’t let Mom and Dad put it away come January.”

“I think it stayed in the kitchen until the following Christmas,” I added, smiling at the memory. “Then we made another ornament together.”

Anita walked over and dug around in the box before holding up a pair of mini skis crafted from Popsicle sticks. “I think it was this one.”

Like Mom’s Advent calendars and the Christmas Eve bash, this was another Meyer holiday tradition. Every single year right up to middle school, Anita and I made new ornaments with Mom, Dad, and our grandparents, when they were still alive, expanding our collection.

Until now, this old box had resided in my parents’ basement, and I shook a fist as I pretended to be angry. “Trust you to yank on the family heartstrings on the first day of the Christmas countdown.”

Anita batted her eyelashes. “How could you accuse me of doing such a twisted thing?”

“Ha. I’ve already told you I’m not going to Pineville. I’m no pushover.”

“You are sometimes,” Anita said.

As I was about to argue, I remembered Mom insisting earlier tonight how something might still change my mind about going home for the holidays. She must’ve sent the box of childhood decorations to Anita, which meant Mom knew about this edition of the Advent calendar challenge.

I couldn’t stop the grin spreading across my face as I thought how charmingly devious my family could be. Despite having no intention of celebrating Christmas this year or going to Pineville—absolutely nothing would change that—I couldn’t stop my curiosity from taking over as I wondered what fun task Anita had planned for us tomorrow.