If It Makes You Happy(117)

I smirk, and Sara laughs with me because he knows I hate mustard. Both of them do.

Is this the life I was missing while married to Allen? Are these the fun conversations I could have had instead of quiet, polite ones with his friends?

Once Dad and Sara settle in—Dad in the only open guest room and Sara sharing the bed with me—I walk her through basic inn tasks through the afternoon and evening. Check-ins, checkouts, daily issues, like the faulty handle on the hall closet or the creaking stair near the attic. Things that feel like second nature that will no longer be part of mine.

It’s hers.

The inn is hers, like it was always meant to be.

Once the sun sets, we gather up our two-house troop and walk to the square.

The Snow and Sips Festival is in full swing when our party arrives. Bing Crosby and the Andrews Sisters croon “Jingle Bells” through speakers. Multicolored lights dip between lampposts with wreaths. Booths pop up every few feet, and their sloping red covers are coated in snow. Forest-green garland is wrapped around the gazebo roof with strings of candy canes and mistletoe dangling over every set of stairs. It smells like peppermint and chocolate and a hint of the smoke coming from the popping bonfire in the middle, where a crowd roasts marshmallows.

Emily runs ahead to find Josh near the nativity scene. Tracy trails behind Brittany as she snaps pictures of plastic reindeer. My dad walks off to find hot chocolate with Sara. Carol spots George and Lisa, stalling them from walking over. I have a feeling that was intentional.

It’s me, Cliff, and Rocket remaining under a sprig of mistletoe. The corner of Cliff’s mouth tips into a playful grin. I roll my eyes, sighing as puffs of warm air float in front of our faces. He runs the outside of his gloved pinkie against mine. It’s our little secret.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“I was gonna ask you the same thing.”

“I’m jolly. According to ol’ Bing anyway.”

I huff a laugh out my nose, and his grin grows wider.

“How are you really, Michelle?” I open my mouth and close it, managing a smile when he leans in to murmur, “You think so loud.”

“It’s a pretty festival,” I admit. “Copper Run’s best so far.”

His smile falls almost imperceptibly before he pulls the corner of his mouth back up.

“I bet Seattle has some great ones. A big tree or something. An ice-skating rink.”

“It does,” I say.

Rocket looks between us, his tail slowly wagging.

Shelly, you’ve never been ice skating.

I tongue my cheek as Cliff suddenly says, “Can’t wait to see it.”

My head jerks to him. It’s the first time we’ve acknowledged visits instead of calls—something real.

“Yeah?” I say on a breath.

The little crease beside his mouth deepens. “Yeah.”

Brittany jogs over and holds up her yellow disposable camera to Cliff. We jerk our hands away. Tracy, trailing behind Brittany, looks down at where our joined hands were only moments before.

“What’s up, Britt?” Cliff asks.

“I need another camera,” she says, clicking the button uselessly.

He chuckles. “Isn’t this your third one since Halloween?”

“I want another.”

Cliff peers up at the line winding through the park, leading to a golden armchair, where Santa—very obviously Lars in a costume—bounces Luke on his lap. Luke’s arms are stubbornly folded across his chest as he frowns with red cheeks. His mother snaps a photo of his scowl.

“Why don’t you tell Santa?” Cliff suggests to Brittany.

She pouts. “But he’s supposed to get me my other pictures.”

“You haven’t developed the photos yet?” I murmur to Cliff with a laugh.

He side-eyes me with a smirk.

“Well,” he says down to Brittany, “I’ll check with Santa and see if he can handle both things.”

“Promise?” Brittany asks.

“Absolutely.”

“Promise, promise?”

“Yes, yes,” he says. “Or you can tell him first.” He playfully pats her back. “You want to go get in line?”

“I’ll take her,” Tracy interjects, sidestepping past me with a small bump of her shoulder against mine.

I jerk my head back in response. In any other situation, I’d acknowledge it. But as ours stands, I bite back my response through grinding molars.

It’s taking every ounce of control for me to force a smile for Tracy. I almost said something yesterday when she passed the broccoli dish to Emily, deliberately bypassing me in the process. I don’t like it when someone starts a cold war without my consent. I only start arguments if I plan to end them and win, and she’s gotten an unfair head start.

Brittany tugs Cliff’s hand into her mitten. “Can you come too, Daddy?”

“Oh.” Cliff looks awkwardly from me to Tracy, then back down at Brittany.

She beams up at him, and he returns it.

“Of course.”

He’ll always be weak for his daughters, even if it requires more time with his ex. That’s the kind of dad he is.

I pinch his side. “Go be a good dad.”

Cliff tosses me a playful wave as he stumbles forward, forcefully pulled by a six-year-old, and the tether between us pulls taut with the distance. Tracy follows, exhaling sharply in irritation before peering back at me.