Chapter 18
18
Holly
December 25
Hudson Valley, New York
Holly happily hums the tune of “Silver Bells” as she puts the finishing touches on wrapping the presents she managed to get last minute for Aiden’s family just before the shops in Krimbo closed on Christmas Eve. She has used newspaper from the bin beside the cabin’s woodstove to wrap everything, which she knows Aiden will appreciate. She finds a reusable bag for the Finger Lakes wine she bought, and then checks her watch. She feels a tingle of nerves. She’s excited to see Aiden, and is looking forward to meeting his family—but it’s also a big step. She hopes it goes well.
She gets in her car and follows the directions to Aiden’s family home, a redbrick colonial on Main. The wraparound porch is lit up with multicolored holiday lights, and the driveway is already full of cars, so Holly parks on the street. She takes her gifts and the bottle of wine from the trunk and rings the doorbell—which promptly plays a lightning-fast version of the chorus of “Winter Wonderland” before a woman with short dark hair and eyes the same bright blue as Aiden’s answers.
“You must be Holly,” she says warmly, opening the door wide. “I’m Charlotte, Aiden’s mother.”
Another woman has joined Charlotte in the entryway, and she greets Holly in an equally welcoming manner. She has short hair, too, but it’s pure white. Her eyes are just as blue and sparkly as Aiden’s mother’s. “I’m Grandma Hazel. Come in, come in! Merry Christmas!” she calls out. “We’ve been banned from the kitchen. The men are making a mess in there. But it’s almost parade time, and Sidra has made some amazing sandwiches to tide us over until dinner. Come join us ladies in the living room. Just throw your coat on top of all the others. You can put your parcels under the tree there.”
The living room leads to a dining room, and several of Aiden’s family members are in there, everyone talking at once. Holly can see Aiden in the center of the group. Meanwhile, Alexa is holding a platter of sandwiches, and people appear to be fighting over them. Grandma Hazel throws herself into the fray. “I’m oldest!” she says. “I get first pick.”
“Actually,” says a man with a gruff voice and a kind smile, just like Aiden’s, “technically I am, but ladies first.”
“Ladies first, Gramps?” Alexa says. “What is this, the fifties? There are enough sandwiches to go around and then some, so everyone just calm down. No need to infantilize Grandma.”
Holly feels suddenly shy and hangs back, but Aiden spots her and breaks off from the group.
“Hey! You made it.”
His welcoming smile makes her feel sure of herself again. “Thanks for inviting me.”
“Things have been a little hectic around here. There was yet another emergency—the mixer blew a gasket, which almost meant no dinner rolls, a key part of the Coleman family holiday tradition, so Alexa and Sidra needed to enlist some manual bread-kneading muscle. My arms may never recover, but everything’s back on track. My dad’s in the garage, and I think he almost has it fixed.”
Just then, a man who looks like Aiden, only two or three decades older, opens the back door, holding a wrench up in the air. He calls out, “Victory! In the battle against machine, man has come out victorious yet again!” Holly finds herself smiling; she can now see where Aiden gets his charming geekiness from.
The hubbub around the sandwich tray simmers down slightly as Aiden approaches with Holly to introduce her to his father, Murray.
“And hey, everyone, may I remind you all that this is Holly. Our guest —who, by the way, should maybe get the first sandwich since she’s never tried them before?”
Holly protests, embarrassed. Then Alexa says, “Well, she already got four free cookies this week, so it’s not like we aren’t giving her special treatment already.”
“Wait,” Holly says, determined not to let Alexa’s prickly edges get to her. “We’re having a full turkey dinner?”
“Yes,” says Murray.
“And now we’re eating sandwiches?”
“Well, we need something to eat during the parade,” Grandma Hazel says. “It’s Christmas Day. You’re supposed to be full to the point of bursting all day long. And besides, we’re not eating that turkey for hours.”
Charlotte smiles at Holly. “If there’s one thing this family likes to do, it’s eat.”
“Yeah,” says Alexa. “You need to keep up.”
“Oh, Holly can keep up,” Aiden says. “You already know she’s a huge Seventh Heaven sandwich and cookie fan.”
Holly turns to Alexa. “I actually have a little gift as a thank-you for the cookies the other day,” she says. “I have Christmas gifts for everyone, but this is more of a gratitude gift.”
She reaches inside her purse and holds up a small paper bag. She had brought an unopened jar of Momofuku’s coveted Chili Crunch Hot Honey to use on her ramen, but the night she made it for Aiden, she’d used the hot sauce he brought instead. “It’s delicious on anything, but I bet it would be great on one of your sandwiches.”
“That’s so thoughtful of you,” Sidra chimes in, but Alexa is looking over the jar doubtfully, and soon discards it on a chair.
“Quick, everyone, grab a hoagie and then let’s get outside, it’s about to start,” says Grandma Hazel, her eyes sparkling even brighter with excitement.
When Sidra offers to get Holly some cider, Holly insists she can get it herself.
“Here, let me help you find the mugs,” Aiden says. “Anyone else need anything? We’ll meet you outside.”
“Oh, I get it,” says Grandma Hazel, winking at Aiden as Holly blushes. “You two lovebirds want to smooch .”
Indeed, as soon as they’re alone in the kitchen, Aiden reaches for her and pulls her in for a long kiss.
“Merry Christmas, Holly.”
“Merry Christmas, Aiden.”
He kisses her again, and eventually, she has to pull back and catch her breath. “You’re kissing me like it might be the last time.”
“It might be the last time for a few hours—Sidra’s holiday-parade hoagies are amazing, but pretty soon we’re both going to have fish breath.”
Holly laughs and gives him another long kiss. “Aiden Coleman, I’d kiss you even with fish breath.”
Alexa has poked her head through the kitchen doorway. “You two slowpokes coming? The first float is in view.”
Outside, Holly and Aiden take their seats in a pair of camping chairs. Once Holly is settled, Aiden covers her knees and his own with a plaid flannel blanket, and Sidra hands them each a plate.
“It smells incredible. What exactly is this?”
“You can’t go into this with any preconceived notions in your mind,” Aiden says.
“Okay, so I’ve had the sweet French roll before. Fish with the crispiest breading I’ve ever had—and it’s been marinated in something amazing—”
“A secret blend Sidra’s dad passed down that she says she’s never telling anyone, not even Alexa—”
“Is that Thousand Island dressing?”
“Close!” Sidra calls out, leaning forward from down the row of chairs. “Another secret recipe. Like Thousand Island, yes, but with a smoky, spicy kick. I learned to make it from my dadu. You’ll never have anything else like it.”
“There’s something else.” She takes another bite. “It reminds me of sandwiches from my childhood. Is it…” She closes her eyes. “Melted American cheese?”
Sidra smiles. “You guessed it! I’ve tried other fancier cheeses, but nothing works quite as well. My aunt and uncle had a sandwich shop in Philly, and even they could never find a better cheese topping for this sandwich than that.”
At that moment, a hush falls over the street, and church bells begin to ring all through town.
“It’s starting!” Grandma Hazel says excitedly. All at once, the streetlights are extinguished, and everyone falls quiet, waiting expectantly in the soft glow of dusk.
In the distance, Holly can see what looks like a crowd of bobbing stars coming toward them. As the stars grow closer, she realizes the lights are coming from paper cutouts held aloft on long staffs carried by children. The walking choir begins to sing “Song for a Winter’s Night” in their earnest little voices, and Holly finds herself clasping her hands to her heart as they walk solemnly by. One little star carrier turns and, adorably, waves and shouts “Hi, Mom!” to a woman standing on the sidewalk—but most of the other children keep their faces turned forward as they walk through the town singing the old Gordon Lightfoot standard, their voices ringing out in the crisp night air as real stars begin to light up above them in the sky.
Just as the children’s voices rise to their highest, singing about how happy they would be to hold the hand they love on a winter’s night, Holly turns her head and locks eyes with Aiden. He seems to be watching her rather than the parade, too. “I’m glad you like it,” he whispers.
“I love it. Every second.” She turns her attention back to the street as a marching band playing a rousing rendition of “Jingle Bells” starts to approach, drowning out the children’s choir. Many of the townspeople clap and dance as the music picks up—including Aiden’s grandparents. Hazel laughs delightedly as her husband spins her.
The parade floats follow the marching band, on flatbeds pulled by pickup trucks. The surfaces of all the vehicles are strung with lights and decorations. Many of them feature vignettes reenacting various scenes from famous Christmas stories, including a Nativity scene, a Rudolph float, an Island of Misfit Toys–themed float sponsored by the antique shop, and a Dickensian Christmas-themed float sponsored by the town’s bookshop. The townspeople on the floats ring sleigh bells and call out greetings, or throw candy or festive colored beads.
Aiden has moved his camping chair closer to her, and their bodies are now touching—shoulder to shoulder, arm to arm. The warmth of touching him moves all the way through Holly’s body.
Holly finds herself oohing and aahing over a gaggle of donkeys wearing reindeer antlers, led past by a local farmer who Aiden says houses rescue donkeys at a picturesque acreage not too far from the eco-cabin. Then a huge float sponsored by the local dance school sails by, crowded with little sugarplum fairies and tin soldiers, dancing shyly as their parents cheer them on and crowd onto the street to take photos and videos of their adorable offspring.
Once the last float, a life-sized gingerbread house created as a collaboration between Seventh Heaven and another local bakery, has disappeared into the gloaming, an expectant hush falls over the town again.
“Oh, this is the best part,” Grandma Hazel calls out as, in the distance, a white horse appears. The horse prances toward the townspeople, snorting clouds of snow-white air, sleigh bells jingling from an elaborate bridle and saddle. The stallion’s rider is costumed majestically in a red-and-gold cape, a wooly white beard, and a red crown with a golden cross on the front.
“That’s Angela Jenkins,” Aiden whispers. “She was on the Olympic equestrian team back in the eighties and won the gold medal for dressage.”
Holly shakes her head in wonder as “St. Nick” manages her fiery steed, all while throwing candies and calling out greetings to delighted children.
The prancing white horse eventually disappears over the horizon, the church bells ring again, and the parade is over. Holly’s surprised to realize a whole hour has flown by.
“I can’t believe how much I loved that,” Holly says. “Thanks for inviting me today.”
“I couldn’t imagine spending Christmas without you,” Aiden replies.
“I think it was the best one ever,” Grandma Hazel adds.
“You say that every year,” says Aiden’s mom with a laugh.
“Well, it’s true. It just gets better every year!”
“So, Holly,” says Murray, leaning forward, “how long will you be with us in Krimbo?”
“I’m staying until just before New Year’s,” Holly says.
Alexa purses her lips. “You came here all by yourself? For Christmas?”
“Oh—well.” Holly feels suddenly self-conscious.
“Not everyone’s family goes as wild over Christmas as ours does,” Aiden says. “And Holly has a high-pressure lawyer job in the city. She needs a break. You know how that is, Alexa.”
Their conversation is interrupted by a group of neighbors crossing the street to wish them a happy Christmas. The friends and family all stand outside chatting and finishing their mulled wine, and then it’s time to troop inside to check on the turkey and the rest of the dinner fixings.
“Another half an hour and then it needs to rest for a bit,” Aiden’s father announces. “Why don’t we open presents?”
Everyone rushes into the living room, where Grandma Hazel is appointed “Santa.” Aiden and Holly sit close together on a love seat.
Aiden glances over at Holly and smiles.
“What?”
“You just look happy,” he murmurs.
“I am happy. This is the kind of Christmas I always dreamed of as a kid. I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to be here.”
He reaches down and squeezes her hand. “And I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to have you here.” He kisses her cheek.
“This one’s for Holly, from Charlotte and Murray,” Hazel announces—and soon, Holly realizes that even though they would have only found out she was coming the day before, everyone in Aiden’s family bought her a gift: a cedar-scented candle from his parents that reminds her of Aiden, an ornament in the shape of a Christmas cookie from Sidra and Alexa, and a hand-knit scarf from Grandma Hazel and Grandpa Sam that perfectly matches the blue of Holly’s coat.
“Can’t say I can take any credit for that one,” Sam says when Holly thanks them both. “But you’re more than welcome, dear. We just like to see our Aiden looking so happy—and if someone decides to stay up until all hours knitting because of that”—he winks at Hazel—“so be it.”
“Worth it,” says Grandma Hazel. “I can hardly sleep on Christmas Eve anyway. Too excited. It was good to have something to keep myself occupied.”
Aiden leans his head down to murmur in Holly’s ear again. “Hey, I thought maybe we’d do our gifts later, alone? Back at your place or mine?”
Holly smiles and whispers back that, yes, she’d love that, and tucks the small gift she has for him away for later. She feels a glowing warmth inside at the idea that she gets to spend a magical night with his family—and then look forward to some time alone with Aiden, too.
Once the presents are opened and the living room is littered with the fabric ribbons and reusable bags, Grandpa Sam announces he’s going to carve the turkey. Soon, they’re all gathered around the dining room table. The dining room is an old-fashioned one, with a fireplace on one end. It crackles and pops as they dig into the feast, which, surprisingly, Holly still has room for even after the enormous sandwich she ate earlier.
After the meal, the family decides to take a breather before dessert—Alexa and Sidra’s legendary sticky toffee pudding, apparently—and the women all go into the kitchen to start the dishes while the men go to the living room to play Rummoli.
Between the five of them, surprisingly short work is made of the many pots and pans, and Sidra and Alexa eventually send Grandma Hazel and Charlotte to relax in the living room. “Why don’t you both go relax, too?” Holly suggests to Alexa and Sidra. “I can finish these last few pots.”
“I’ll dry them,” says Alexa. “Sid, you go. Put your feet up for a while until it’s time to flambé the dessert.”
Once Sidra is gone, the silence in the kitchen between Alexa and Holly suddenly hangs heavy.
“So, flambéed Christmas pudding, huh?” Holly says. “I’ve never had that before. Sounds great. I’m a big fan of your desserts.”
“You’ve made that clear,” Alexa says wryly, taking the clean chafing dish Holly hands her and drying it briskly. Then, “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course. Anything.”
Alexa puts down the dish. “Why did you come here, seeking out Aiden?”
Holly frowns. “Excuse me?”
“Why did you come looking for him? Is it because you found out how rich he is?”
“ What? No, of course not. He only told me about his company yesterday.”
“He said that when I asked him, but honestly, it just seems like way too much of a coincidence. He sold his company and suddenly, he had the right status for you so you came knocking. Aiden’s such a great guy—he doesn’t deserve that kind of treatment.”
Holly struggles to get her bearings in the conversation, reminds herself that Alexa is just prickly, and a protective older sister. But still, her abrupt accusations are jarring. “I know he’s a great guy. I think so, too.”
“One more thing.” Alexa tilts her head. “You two have become really close this week. But…apparently not close enough for you to tell him about this?”
She takes out her phone, taps twice, and turns the screen toward Holly. Holly’s heart plummets when she sees what it is: the New York Times wedding announcement from a few months before, heralding her holiday nuptials to Matthew Carter.
“That…wedding didn’t happen,” Holly manages.
“Clearly. I made a few calls to some friends in the city. It was supposed to be last week.”
“We broke things off.”
“And then you just conveniently came here to seek out an old high school friend so you could switch out one rich husband for another?”
“I—I—” Holly stammers. “That’s not it at all. I had no idea Aiden would be here in Krimbo!”
“Your best friend just coincidentally rented a place from him and gave it to you?”
Holly is blinking back tears now. “Yes,” she says. “It was a coincidence. I swear. I wouldn’t do that.” But she can see how bad it looks—and it looks even worse when Aiden comes into the kitchen to see her squared off against his sister.
“What’s going on in here?” he says. “Alexa, seriously, you made Holly cry? On Christmas? You really need to cool it.”
Alexa has her hands on her hips, staring Holly down, daring her to tell the truth. Holly knows she has no other choice, that if she doesn’t try to explain things, Alexa will just give her version anyway.
“It wasn’t her fault. There’s something I should tell you, Aiden.”
He looks even more alarmed now. “What is it? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I just…haven’t been totally honest with you about why I came here alone for Christmas. I was engaged to be married. My wedding was supposed to be”—she closes her eyes briefly—“just over a week ago. But my fiancé broke things off the night before our wedding, and I came here because I was in shock. Because I needed to take some time on my own.”
“You were supposed to get married last week?”
She can’t blame him for looking so surprised, so horrified. It feels like they’ve talked about so much over the past few days—but she realizes as she spills out the truth how inaccurate that is. She kept so much from him.
“I’m sorry to do this on Christmas,” Alexa says. “But Aiden, I’m just trying to protect you. You know that.”
Aiden doesn’t look at Alexa, just keeps staring at Holly, his face the picture of shocked dismay.
“I’m sorry, Aiden,” Holly says. “Everything with us—” She glances at Alexa, who does not make a move to leave the kitchen and give them any privacy. “It happened fast, and it feels so right, and I didn’t want to ruin it. But I have. By not telling you, I have ruined everything.”
Aiden presses his palms to his eyes. “I don’t know what to say. I think I just need a minute.” He looks dazed as he heads for the back door without even bothering to get a jacket. The door slams and he’s gone.
Holly stands in the silent kitchen, staring at the closed door. Then she turns to Alexa.
“I’m going to go,” Holly says. Alexa says nothing in response. Holly turns and rushes out of the kitchen, barely stopping to get her coat and handbag as Aiden’s family looks on, stunned.