Her mom fastened the braid and then raised one eyebrow as she looked at Josie. “It’s good practice to talk to people like this,” she said, reading Josie’s mind like she often did. “Speaking up for yourself is an important life skill.”
Josie’s mom was big on life skills, all of which seemed to involve something unpleasant. Which Josie was about to point out when her stomach growled loudly. Josie pressed her hands against her middle as her mom laughed, which made Josie break into giggles. Her mom had the best laugh, like the clinking of the delicate glass ornaments on their Christmas tree—mixed with occasional goose honks.
“Sounds like we better get to Danny’s,” her mom said, leading the way downstairs.
The two of them piled on jackets, scarves, and hats and headed out into the bright frigid morning. The wind blew little ice crystals that stung Josie’s cheeks as they walked, but the sun shining on the snow made it glitter like jewels were hidden just beneath the surface.
A few minutes later, they walked into the bustling warmth of Danny’s Diner, where Maggie, their usual server, seated them in their usual booth along the back wall. Christmas carols played softly in the background, tinsel and paper rings hung from the walls, and the little tree next to the register added the scent of pine to the Saturday morning smells of coffee and pancakes fresh off the griddle.
“Two stacks of blueberry cornmeal pancakes, right?” Maggie asked as she poured Josie’s mom a cup of decaf.
“Yes, thanks,” Josie’s mom said with a smile.
“So what’s the best thing that happened this week?” Josie’s mom asked once they had ordered. This was how they always started their brunches, but today Josie noticed that her mom was blinking a lot and her hands played absently with an empty sugar packet. She hadn’t seemed distracted at home, but now it looked like there was something on her mind. Sometimes when she had news, she waited to tell Josie over their meal. Josie just hoped today’s news was good, like a spring break trip to Disney World.
“The best thing this week is that Oscar’s singing with me now,” Josie said. She’d already told her mom the whole story in detail, and it was definitely the best part of the week.
“Right, that’s pretty awesome,” her mom said, now folding the packet into a small square.
“What about you?” Josie asked. Usually her mom didn’t need prompting to finish their ritual.
“Oh, I think it was when the carolers stopped by the post office right before closing on Friday,” her mom said, smiling at the memory.
“Did they sing ‘Angels We Have Heard on High’?” Josie asked. It was her mom’s favorite.
Her mom nodded. “Yes, though not as beautifully as you sing it,” she said. “You should really perform it for the Festival.”
Josie was certainly not interested in having this conversation again. She was about to get things back on track and ask more about the carolers when she heard someone shout her name. She turned to see Henry running toward her, nearly banging into Maggie, who just grinned at his exuberance.
“Hi, Henry,” Josie said as he crawled up next to her for a hug. He had a ring of hot chocolate around his mouth and smelled sweet, like syrup. “This is my mom.”
Henry’s eyes got wide. “You have a mom?” he asked.
Josie’s mom laughed. “She sure does.”
“You’re the nice lady at the post office,” Henry said, clearly confused that Josie’s mom might have more than one role in his life.
“That’s my day job,” Josie’s mom said. “At night, I’m a mom.”
“Just like Dad and I run the dry cleaners, but we take care of you and Melanie, too,” Henry’s mom said, coming up to their table.
Henry’s forehead was still creased, as though it was all too much to take in, but then he grinned at Josie. “My mom took me out for waffles,” he said. “Just me.”
Josie grinned back. “That’s pretty special,” she said. She decided she’d text Oscar about it.
“It is,” Henry’s mom said with a smile. She reached for Henry’s hand, and the two of them headed out.
“Here we go,” Maggie said, setting steaming stacks of pancakes down in front of Josie and her mom.
Danny’s blueberry cornmeal pancakes were famous throughout Frost Ridge, and Josie and her mom focused as they spread them with butter and poured on maple syrup from the farm outside town.
Josie took her first bite, the sweet syrup mixing with the tart blueberry, and waited for her mom to tell her what was going on. It was probably something small, like a change in her shift schedule for the holidays. But a whisp of worry brushed icily along the back of her neck.
“There’s something I wanted to talk to you about,” her mom said finally, reaching for another sugar packet. “I think it’s time for you and me to find a place of our own.”
This was not what Josie had expected. “Why?” she asked. Everything was fine right where they were.
“Well, after Dad died, I needed your grandparents,” her mom said. “We both did.”
Josie nodded.
“But it’s been five years,” her mom went on. “And I think it’s time for me to move on, to be your mom full-time and, you know, be a grown-up.”
Josie grinned at her mom’s joke, but inside she was reeling. Living with her grandparents in their cozy house was perfect. Moving out on their own sounded risky, and Josie was not a fan of risks.
“You can be a grown-up at Grandma and Grandpa’s house,” Josie said, swirling a chunk of pancake through the pool of syrup on her plate.
Her mom shook her head. “Not really,” she said. “I lean on them and they take care of me, even when I don’t need it. They were there for us when we did need it, but we’re better now. I’m better. And I think it’s time for them to have a little peace and quiet.”
Josie drew in a sharp breath. “They don’t like living with us?”
Her mom reached across the table and patted her hand. “No, sweets, they love having us, don’t worry,” she said. “It’s just, it’s time for me to stand on my own two feet, to be independent. And to take care of you.”
“And Clementine,” Josie added automatically. Her mind was racing as she considered all that this would mean, but she still saw the corners of her mom’s mouth turn down the slightest bit at the mention of her dog. “I mean, I’ll take care of Clementine,” Josie said quickly. Her mom had been clear from day one that if Josie wanted to take in a puppy, then she needed to be responsible for it.
“I know it’s a lot to think about,” her mom said. “But it’s exciting. I’ve already started looking around with a real estate agent, trying to find a place that’s just right for us.” Again the corners of her mouth sagged the smallest bit. “It’s a little tough to find something in our price range, but I know we will eventually. And you’ll have a whole new room to decorate.”
Josie liked her own room just fine. And the thought of moving made her shiver, like a frigid breeze had blown into the diner. But her mom was looking at her hopefully, so Josie did what she could to smile. “It’ll be great,” she said.
She just hoped it would be true.
THE NEXT AFTERNOON, Josie heard the clicking of Ms. D’Amato’s high heels coming down the hall a moment before the volunteer coordinator walked into the lounge. “Hi, guys,” she said to Josie and Oscar, and, of course, Clementine, who bounded over to greet her. “How’s it going?” She was looking at Oscar in particular as she patted Clementine.
Oscar shrugged. “Okay,” he said. He was already dressed in his costume, though today he was wearing a black wool hat instead of a baseball cap.
“Well, I hear good things about Santa’s Secret Agent,” Ms. D’Amato said with a wink.
Oscar couldn’t help grinning at that.
“Josie, did you get that list of past Festival performers I sent you?” Ms. D’Amato asked.
“Yes, thanks,” Josie said. The list only had two peds performers Josie hadn’t yet asked. One had left the hospital. The
other was Dr. Scott, who Josie had asked on her way in. Dr. Scott was happy to help, which was great. But that still left seven acts to find and barely any time to find them—and that was if Josie could even get herself to start approaching non–peds staff without having a complete heart attack.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I sent out an email asking for volunteers,” Ms. D’Amato said. “I’m not supposed to send mass messages, but I figured this was a special circumstance.” She smiled and Josie grinned back.
“Thanks,” Josie said. Maybe the email would get more people.
“Though to be honest, people here don’t check their work email that much,” Ms. D’Amato said, deflating the little hope Josie had built up. “Still, it seemed worth a try.”
“I appreciate it,” Josie said.
She suspected the email would be like the sign she’d posted—people wouldn’t pay any attention. If she wanted the Festival to happen, she’d have to ask everyone on those lists to perform herself. The problem was, she wasn’t sure she could do it. And what would happen then? The answer to that made Josie’s insides feel like soggy clumps of newspaper.
“I’ll let you know if I get any bites,” Ms. D’Amato said. She gave Clementine one last pat before walking out.
“I guess we should go sing for the kids,” Josie said. She was wearing her favorite elf costume, the green one with tinsel woven in, making the whole thing glitter, and she’d added a jaunty striped hat. But the thought of no Festival had sucked all the enthusiasm out of her.
“Why do you care about this show so much?” Oscar asked, perching on the arm of the sofa, his long legs sticking out. “The kids get to see singing all the time here, anyway.”
“The Festival is different,” Josie said immediately.
“How?” Oscar asked. He seemed genuinely curious.
“It’s in the auditorium,” Josie said. “It’s fancy—it’s like the kids are going to a famous theater in New York City. The acts are always really good, and the last one is this big carol sing-along where a bunch of kids get to go onstage—it’s magical really.” Josie remembered past Festivals, one in particular, with feathery snowflakes falling on the stage as children came up to sing under the bright lights in front of everyone. Josie was once one of those kids, her heart full as she sang, forgetting, for a short time, why she was in the hospital at all.
“I still don’t get why it matters so much to you,” Oscar said, reaching down to scratch Clementine behind her ears. “I mean, I know that it’s fun, but is it worth all this hassle?”
Josie pulled at a piece of tinsel on the skirt of her costume, debating whether to tell him. It wasn’t something she liked talking about, but then again, if she told him, maybe he’d help despite his feelings about Christmas. So she took a deep breath. “It’s kind of what I said to Henry,” she said. “When my dad was sick and everything was awful, the volunteers here really cheered me up.”
Oscar nodded, and Josie could tell he got it, at least this part. “Everyone kept talking about the Festival and how great it was and I was worried my dad would be too sick to go.” It still made Josie’s chest ache like a punched bruise when she thought about those last weeks of her dad’s life, his face pale against the hospital sheets, his voice no more than a hoarse whisper. “And he really loved Christmas. I knew it meant a lot to him.”
Oscar nodded again.
“Anyway, the day came and he’d had a bad night, so the nurses weren’t sure he should go,” Josie said, remembering. “But he said he wanted to, for me, because he wanted to see me sing up on that stage.” Now her throat was tight. “So they figured out a way to take him on a stretcher. I stayed with him the whole time and he loved it. His eyes were shining like they hadn’t in weeks, and his face looked like him, the real him, not the sick him.”
She glanced at Oscar. He’d taken off the sunglasses and was listening closely, so she continued.
“When I climbed on the stage to join in the sing-along I knew how happy he was,” Josie said. “How proud. And I was, too.” She paused for a moment, sniffling a bit, and Clementine came over and rubbed her head against Josie’s leg. Josie bent down to wrap her arms around her dog. “So now when the Festival happens, it makes me feel like he’s here, that he’s still with me even if he’s gone,” she went on. “Which probably sounds stupid but—”
“It doesn’t sound stupid,” Oscar said. He cleared his throat and seemed focused on a spot over Josie’s left shoulder. “And I get why you want the Festival to happen.”
“Does that mean that maybe you’ll help me?” Josie asked.
“I’ll help,” someone said.
Josie nearly jumped out of her elf boots; she hadn’t realized anyone was listening. But sure enough, Gabby was walking into the volunteer room, looking beautiful as always, even though she was still wearing her hospital gown.
“I’m really good at stuff like this,” Gabby went on, smiling at Josie in a way that made her feel like the center of everything.
“Um, okay,” Josie mumbled, feeling almost blinded, like she was looking into the sun.
“Great!” Gabby said as though it was Josie doing the favor. “So tell me everything I need to know.”
As Josie rattled off the details of the Festival, she couldn’t help wondering how much Gabby had heard. The stuff about Josie’s dad was private, and she didn’t like the idea of someone she barely knew hearing about it. And what had Gabby been doing just hanging out right at the door of the lounge, anyway?
“All right, so we need seven more acts,” Gabby said, now all business. “Did you ask everyone on those lists?”
“Um, just the people from the peds ward,” Josie said.
“That’s it?” Gabby asked, her brows pulling together. “Why not anyone else?”
Josie glanced at Oscar, and she could tell they were thinking the same thing: Gabby was pushy. But maybe pushy was what they needed to make the Festival happen.
“I get kind of shy talking to people I don’t know,” Josie admitted. She could feel herself blushing, as if to prove the point.
Gabby nodded slowly, and Josie wondered if she was thinking about Josie at school, how meek Josie was and how she tripped over her words when a teacher asked her a question. Josie was embarrassed, but Gabby didn’t ask any more about it.
“So that’s where we start,” Gabby said, tucking a silky curl behind one ear. “With the people on the list. But we don’t stop there. We should come up with our own ideas for acts, things we think would be awesome. Then we ask people to help out. It’s much harder for people to say no when you present them with a whole idea. And we don’t just want a repeat of past Festivals—we want this one to be the best ever.”
Gabby was more than pushy—she was a force of nature. But Josie had to admit she liked the idea of putting on the best Festival ever. In fact, she loved it.
“What do you say?” Gabby asked.
Oscar was scowling. Josie did think the whole thing was kind of weird. She didn’t get why Gabby cared so much when she’d only been in the hospital a few days and probably had a million better things to do. Why would someone with as many friends as Gabby want to spend time with Josie and Oscar? Plus, Josie couldn’t help worrying about how much of her story Gabby had overheard. But none of that mattered as much as the Festival, so she nodded.
“Let’s do it,” she said.
Gabby made her way over to the sofa in the small hospital volunteer room. She was eager to sit down after standing in the hall for so long, listening in on Josie and Oscar. It had been pure luck that she’d walked by just in time to hear Josie’s story about the Festival. Well, pure luck and the fact that Gabby had been stalking them a bit. With everything she’d worked for at risk, it was time for something more powerful than her usual charm: She had to find some way to get Josie and Oscar to need her, and need her fast. And since she was going back to school tomorrow, that meant this afternoon was her one shot. The only way to figure out how to become indispensable was to
listen in on them, and it had worked—she’d uncovered the necessary information. Now she just had to make sure to use it to her advantage.
“Let’s start making a list,” Gabby said. “We should put down the acts we have and then start thinking about who to ask next.”
“Sounds good,” Josie said, her voice so quiet Gabby could barely hear.
“I don’t have my cell phone, so can you write it down?” Gabby asked. “Start with who we have so far.”
“Some of the high school volunteers are going to do a skit,” Josie said, the bells on her shoes jangling as she came to sit down next to Gabby. At school, Josie was a timid mouse, so seeing her all decked out was a bit of a shock. “Nurse Joe is doing a skit, too, with some other nurses from the ward. And I just got Dr. Scott to sign up. She and her husband will dress up as reindeer and sing ‘Rudolph.’ ”
Apparently Josie wasn’t the only one going overboard with the Christmas thing here at the hospital.
“That sounds, ah, festive,” Gabby said. “Let’s write it all down.”
Josie pulled out her phone and began typing into it. “Okay, I have our list so far,” she said after a moment. “What’s next?”
“I have an idea,” Oscar said. The way the sides of his mouth pinched together told Gabby he did not care for how she was taking over.
“Sure, what is it?” Gabby asked, smiling warmly. She didn’t want Oscar to feel like his toes were getting stepped on, though it didn’t seem like he’d done much to help Josie. Not that she was going to point that out.
“I was thinking we should organize a sibling act,” he said. “Kids like Henry, who are here a lot and know everyone.”
“I love that idea!” Josie exclaimed. “And so will Henry. We can ask Freddy’s older brother, too.”
“And there must be others,” Gabby said. “I bet my brothers would join in.”
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