Jingle Bell Hell (Bad Luck Club)

by Denise Grover Swank

He very methodically removes the wrapping paper, as if we might want to turn around and use it for something else, and pulls out a beautifully polished wooden stand.

  “You made that?” I ask Jace in wonder, because I instantly know he must have. “It’s the most beautiful—”

  There I pause because, honestly, I don’t know what it’s for. I just know that I love it. Because it really is beautiful, and he made it, and when was the last time someone besides Aidan made me something with their own hands?

  “You don’t know what it is, do you?” he asks, grinning at me.

  “Of course I do! It’s…”

  I was hoping my answer would buy me time, but I’m still clueless. Thankfully, Aidan steps in. “It’s for our blankets, Mom! Remember how you told Jace you didn’t know what to do with them, and then one day you found a bug wrapped up in one of them after you shook it out, and you screamed and hit it with a broom?”

  In the past, I might have found that embarrassing, but I’m stuck on Jace’s thoughtfulness. That was such a small moment, but he remembered it, and he spent his free time—of which I know he has little, in between spending so many hours with us and working at his day job and helping Cal—to fix our problem. He made something for our household because he’s a part of it, and I suddenly have tears in my eyes.

  Jace takes my hand again, weaving his fingers through mine. “You know, if you loved it because you envisioned some other genius use for it, you should know it’s an equal opportunity rack.”

  “Um, actually,” Aidan says, “I think we do need it for the blankets.” He starts toying with his zipper. “You know, you can kiss each other if you want. I know people who are romantic kiss each other, and Dottie already told me everything.”

  I look at my son with something like wonder. This is not something I expected, and based on the look on Jace’s face, he’s just as surprised as I am.

  Glancing from Aidan to me, then back, his eyes warm and full of love, Jace says, “I won’t say I don’t like kissing your mom, Aidan, because I don’t want to lie to you. But right now, I think I’d like it best if we could all hug each other.”

  And so we do.

  It’s the best part of Christmas morning, even though I find two more surprise packages under the tree, one from Dottie—a tea blend attuned to my aura, which I will not be trying anytime soon—and one from Nicole—two tickets to Grease, which feels more like an order than a true gift. We’ll go, of course. She did save me from an inconvenience with Glenn, if not outright trouble from him. Besides, I kind of want to see Damien’s monologue.

  “Is this it?” I ask, sucking in a breath.

  “It is,” Jace confirms, pride ringing in his voice.

  He should be proud. Although I don’t know what the house looked like before, it’s gorgeous now, like a dollhouse blown up to scale. There are purple shutters and a yellow door, and good lord, my sister is going to love this place. I think Cal will officially become Uncle Cal before too long.

  “It’s lovely,” I say.

  “Some present,” Roger huffs from the back seat.

  “Roger,” Jace grumbles. “That was supposed to be a surprise.”

  “Who’s it a present for?” Aidan asks with utter innocence, and since a quick glance around the car is enough to convince Jace that (a) all the adults already know, and (b) it’s very unlikely anyone besides Aidan will be surprised today, he says, “Your aunt Molly’s boyfriend renovated this house for her. A few other guys and I helped him. It’s her Christmas present.”

  “Whoa,” Aidan says. “I didn’t know you could get a whole house for a Christmas present. I’ll have to rethink my Christmas list next year.”

  Roger laughs as if it’s a joke, but I’ll probably have to have a managing expectations talk with Aidan in the near future.

  We’re early—we were close to the house when we got the location text from Cal and Bear—and there are only two cars parked on the side of the Victorian. Maisie’s, plus Dottie’s little hand-painted VW Bug. Molly’s car isn’t here yet, so we might still be able to see her pretend to act surprised, and there’s no sign yet of Jack’s siblings and their families, although I expect he warned them about Cal’s plan. They’ll probably give us a little space before they show up.

  We park at the curb and pile out, moving slowly to ensure Roger can keep up, and Maisie and Jack meet us on the porch, Mabel strapped to Jack’s chest. Dottie stands with them, a radiant smile on her face.

  “Did you get my gift?” she asks hopefully.

  “Uh, yes,” I say. “Is it a sedative tea?”

  Maisie stifles a laugh.

  “Of course not!” Dottie says. “It’s attuned to your aura. It’s meant to help you unwind.”

  “Sounds a lot like a sedative tea,” Jace says in an undertone, putting a hand on the small of my back. I’m wearing a coat, but I can still feel it there, warm and solid.

  I introduce Jace to Jack and Mabel, whom he hasn’t met yet, and we introduce everyone to Roger, who almost instantly launches into a long, convoluted conversation with Dottie involving the construction of some now-infamous building in downtown Asheville. Aidan is eager to go inside, but I convince him that we should wait for a tour until Molly has seen her house.

  The slightly wry twist to Maisie’s lips suggests she’s already let herself inside.

  We don’t have long to wait, though, before Cal’s truck pulls into the driveway.

  “Should we have wrapped a red ribbon around it or something?” Jack asks under his breath, Mabel cooing as if she likes the idea.

  “Uncle Jack,” Aidan says with a serious look, “a ribbon that long would be very hard to find on short notice, especially at Christmas time. Santa isn’t real, but people still wrap gifts.”

  We all laugh, our eyes affixed to the truck. Even Dottie and Roger have stopped talking.

  I lean into Jace, and he wraps his arm around me, even as I put mine around Aidan. Even though my eyes are on Molly, I can feel Maisie eyeing us with satisfaction. Maybe she feels she played a part in this all those years ago, when she took a chance and let a man with a difficult past adopt one of her rescue animals.

  Molly gets out of the truck, her eyes wide as she surveys the house. “Holy shit, this looks way better than it did on Street View. It’s ours, isn’t it?”

  We all sputter laughter as Cal circles around the truck and takes her into his arms, twirling her around and then dipping her for a kiss.

  If he’s disappointed that his surprise wasn’t a surprise, he doesn’t show it. Then again, he knows Molly. Maybe he expected her to find out, and part of her fun was supposed to be the joy of unraveling a mystery. The fact that she didn’t do a drive-by suggests that she did want to keep part of it a surprise.

  Cal’s father exits the back seat of the truck, a huge smile on his face, but it falters a little as his gaze lands on the corner of the porch, where Dottie and Roger appear to have resumed their conversation.

  Huh. Is he interested in Dottie?

  I make a mental note to talk to Molly about it, and then suddenly we’re all greeting each other with hugs and Merry Christmases. Molly, who hasn’t met Jace yet—something that feels wrong at a gut level—embraces him as if they’re old pals and says, “Oh, thank God. I worried she’d chosen another pencil dick.”

  “Molly!”

  Aidan stands off to the side a little, the way he does in crowds, and I feel a crawling sensation of worry. I brought his headphones, but will they be enough protection once the larger group shows up?

  Jace places a hand on my arm. “Don’t worry. Cal and I have this covered.”

  My worry lifts, because I trust him. I know he would never do anything to make Aidan uncomfortable.

  We all embark on a tour of the house, empty but for some temporary furniture Cal moved in for the dinner tonight—an enormous table and several chairs, a huge couch, and a Christmas tree in the corner. A veritable feast has been laid out on the granite counters and island of the kitch
en, and the little placards next to each course suggest Dottie played a part in it. Cal’s father is a baker, though, and I imagine he prepared his fair share of dessert.

  There’s some sort of synergy there, and I find myself wondering again about Dottie and second and third and fourth chances.

  Cal leads the way through the house, which is just as lovely inside as it is outside. Of course, Molly is beside herself, and as we do our walk-through, Aidan and I pepper Jace with questions about what he did, where.

  When we get to the basement, Cal leads us to a room and flicks on the light. This one has furniture—a cool-down tent just like the one he made for Aidan last month, only bigger. Inside there’s a projector casting images of dinosaurs against the side of the tent, plus a huge stuffed ankylosaurus. There’s a sound machine in the room too, producing white noise.

  Cal clears his throat. “The floors and ceilings are pretty thick, so if you need a quiet place of your own once everyone arrives, Aidan, you can come down here. This room will always be yours.” He nods to Jace. “Jace helped me figure out what to put in here.”

  I turn and look up at him, Aidan doing the same, and emotion clogs my throat. Aidan looks away before I do, and I barely manage to remind him, “Say thank you, Aidan.”

  “Thank you,” he calls out, already ducking into the tent.

  Dottie steps forward, holding out some sort of wind catcher with a large crystal hanging on the end. God only knows where she’s been keeping it. “I meant to hang this on the front porch earlier. It’s tourmaline, for luck. Why don’t you and Jace go hang it on the front porch, Mary? We’ll keep an eye on your dear boy.”

  “Your son, she means,” Molly says, her eyes dancing now. “Not the other one. Jace is a very big boy. I think he can look after himself. If anyone else comes around, Dottie will dose them with tea.”

  Cal’s father laughs, long and deep. “I expect there’s a story there.”

  “You mean Cal hasn’t told you?” Molly asks, as if scandalized. “I’ve already told a dozen people. I even told Tina, and you know how serious her family is about Christmas togetherness. Her nonna disposes of phones at the door, but she’s wily. Shit. Tina is not going to be happy about me moving out.”

  “She’ll get over it,” Cal says. “And I’ll admit my mind was elsewhere—sorry, Dad.”

  They continue talking, Aidan still exploring his tent, but I take the wind catcher from Dottie, then grab Jace’s hand and lead him out. I can’t deny I want a moment alone with him, something Dottie must have realized.

  We walk out in silence, hand in hand, as I take in this house that Jace helped Cal restore. My heart is full as we walk out the front door together.

  “How are we supposed to hang that thing up?” Jace asks as we step outside.

  I laugh. He’s right, there don’t appear to be any nails anywhere. “Maybe Dottie thinks you’re magic, or that construction guys carry around a toolbelt at all times.”

  “I have been compared favorably to a magic wand,” he says, smiling down at me, his eyes carrying a dash of mischief.

  “True. If anyone’s magic, I’m convinced it’s you, Jace Hagan. I never could have imagined any of this. I don’t think I dared to.”

  Because it’s dangerous, feeling this happy. It makes you fear that someone’s going to swoop in and snatch it all away, but even if that happens—even if I lose everything—it will still have been worth it. Because living is always worth it. The fulfillment of letting yourself be yourself and finding other people who love you for you is so much more meaningful than the empty safety of a list lined with checks. (Of course, that’s not going to stop me from making lists; they’re very practical.)

  He leans down and kisses me, a sweet kiss, telling me how much it means to him to be here with us, to be part of this loud, chaotic mess of a Christmas, and I deepen the kiss to tell him that I feel the same way. As we pull apart, looking into each other’s eyes, that’s when I spot it, a single nail, almost hidden against the haint blue paint of the overhang—perfect for Dottie’s charm.

  “She knows everything,” I say in wonder as I point to it.

  “Not quite everything.” He carries the wind catcher over and hangs it. “I’m reasonably sure she couldn’t have predicted everything that went down with Glenn the other night. And she doesn’t seem to have noticed that Cal’s father has taken a shine to her.”

  “She will when she’s ready.” I know, because I did. Takes one to know one.

  The wind catcher shines and spins in the afternoon light as a few snowflakes drift down, and is there anything more charming than a dusting of snow on Christmas? Even though I know it’s only a matter of time before Jack’s siblings show up, and even though I really did used to decry PDA, I pull Jace to me again, and I kiss him as the snow drifts down around us.

  Santa Claus might not exist, but I think I can get behind this Christmas thing after all.

  Epilogue

  Mary

  “I had high hopes for our threesome, but I’m too talented for my own good,” Nicole says. “Mary, you’re done. You don’t need me anymore. Your taste is much too conservative for your own good, and your man should really double down on the leather jacket look, but I can’t deny you’re happy. You’re no longer luck-challenged.”

  “What?” I squawk. In a weird way, it feels like a rug has been pulled out from under me. I didn’t realize I’d come to depend on Nicole’s erratic presence in my life until now, when she’s suggesting she might take it away.

  “Oh, don’t get your panties in a twist,” she says, twisting her nose ring a little for good measure. “We’ll still see each other. You’re coming to Grease.” It’s not a question.

  “So why am I here?” Here being Tea of Fortune, which is not quite bustling yet, given it’s ten a.m. on New Year’s Day and most people are likely at home nursing hangovers. I’ll be honest, I have a bit of one myself. I allowed Tom and Ruth to take Aidan home for a visit this weekend, after a long, tearful conversation with Ruth, and Jace and I went to a dance-off downtown, joined by Molly and Cal (a self-described terrible dancer). He wasn’t wrong, but Jace has a natural talent for dancing—he even suggested we take ballroom dancing lessons together at the studio!—and I can’t remember the last time I had so much fun.

  Tina’s working, technically, but there are so few people here, she’s basically just hanging out. She looks tired, which tracks with the fact that she just got back to Asheville last night after a very long drive with her brother, sister-in-law, and their two teenagers. Molly invited her to go dancing with us last night, but even though Tina is up for anything (her own self-description), she stayed in. I think maybe she’s disappointed that Molly’s moving out, although she hasn’t let it show. She’s a good friend, Tina, and I was looking forward to getting to know her better.

  “Because Tina’s first challenge is to share her story with someone who’s judgmental and uptight,” Nicole says, rolling her eyes.

  “Hey! I thought you said I was doing so well I had to graduate. That can’t be true if I’m still judgmental and uptight. Which is it?”

  Nicole gives a genuine smile. “I got you to say you’re judgmental and uptight.”

  “Man, I feel like I’m back home,” Tina says with a rueful grin. “You two sound like my mother and my nonna bickering about who gets the last piece of garlic bread. I think I’m the garlic bread. I can’t decide whether I’m annoyed or intrigued.”

  “Both,” Nicole says. Then she turns back to me. “Fine. I thought it might be useful for Tina to have both of us around, at least for a little while. Some people think I’m a little extreme, and Tina is more adventurous than you are. It’s possible we could get into some trouble if left to our own resources. You could be a steadying influence.”

  I can feel my eyes widen. “Are you saying I’m good for you, Nicole Ricci?”

  She scowls. “Who told you my last name?”

  “You’re not the only one capable of doing research.”<
br />
  Tina dings her fork against her teacup. “Can we get back to my issues?”

  “And can we get some service?” a woman asks in a frustrated voice from one of the adjoining booths.

  “Make a New Year’s resolution not to suck,” Nicole shouts at her. “Maybe this year you can actually keep it.”

  The woman gets up, clearly pissed, but as soon as she gets a good look at Nicole, she takes a step back. “Don’t expect a good Yelp review.”

  “That’s okay,” Tina says dismissively. “The bad reviews keep people interested. A woman showed up all the way from Oklahoma last week because she read that Josie told a lady she’d get a goiter the size of a can of chickpeas. She said anyone who’d give a fortune that bad had to have a God-given talent.”

  The woman huffs off, but she must be afraid of Nicole, because she throws some cash on her table before grabbing her friend and leaving.

  “What’d Josie tell the Oklahoma woman?” I ask, curious despite myself.

  “That she’d fall in love and live happily ever after. She seemed really dissatisfied, actually. I think she was hoping she’d be told her neighbor’s an alien or something.” She took a bite from one of the pastries on the plate between us—much more confidently than I would be in trying anything from Tea of Fortune. Then again, she works here. She knows which ones to avoid.

  “We’re getting off track,” Nicole says. “It’s time to tell Mary why you need help.”

  Tina heaves a sigh. “I’ve always liked romance novels. It started when I found my mom’s hidden stash when I was ten. My nonna found me with one of them in my room and made me write lines from scripture for, like, an hour.” She offers us a little smile. “I didn’t admit it was Mom’s, though, and Mom bought me more books as a thank you. I think that’s when my nonna first started saying rosaries for me at night. She hasn’t stopped, but I’m still me, so I guess it’s not working out so well for her.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with reading romance novels,” I say. Even though I hid my Vampire Diaries addiction as if it were crack I liked instead of bad TV shows.