Chapter 22: Chapter 22

It wasn’t Grandma Helen’s voice she heard, but it was something. Out the window next to her, she heard a few soft peeping sounds. Memory swiped at her eyes and leaned forward, squinting into the darkness. Cardinals? This time of evening? Why would a pair of cardinals be out when it was dark? And perhaps more importantly, why did she feel as if they were speaking to her?

A male and a female perched on the outer windowsill, looking in at her, their eyes gleaming in the faint light. Memory moved a little closer, dropping down on her knees. She assumed they’d fly away, but they didn’t. “Hey, are you guys talking to me?” She laughed, thinking how miserable she must look, even to a couple of birds, sitting in a dark, practically empty room crying. “Did I worry you?”

The male fluttered around slightly, the female chirping, and Memory remembered the last time she’d seen them, there had been three. “Where’s your friend?”

If birds could talk, she imagined they were saying she was gone, and they missed her. “I know the feeling. Maybe she’ll come back.”

They danced around a little bit more, and Memory sat back, leaning her arm on the windowsill. Her eyes wandered over to the place where the tree should’ve been, and a memory came to mind from when she was a little girl. She could picture herself, three or four, standing over by the large Christmas tree, looking up at it, and then, she distinctly remembered seeing a woman standing by the tree, smiling at her. At that moment, Memory had thought it was her mother, that Ann had come to wish her a Merry Christmas. Whatever had happened next hadn’t stuck in her mind—all she had was the image of the beautiful blonde woman smiling at her. Of course, when she’d told them about it, her dad and grandma had both said it was lovely but likely just the memory of a dream. Kirsten, on the other hand, had told her she was a nut and needed to stop believing in ghosts. But Memory knew what she’d seen, even if she had been little, and even if the entire memory didn’t stick in her mind.

“Do you believe that?” she asked the birds who had settled down on the sill now. “Do you believe we can have visitors from heaven?”

They chirped, and Memory even thought it looked as if they were nodding their little heads. She laughed at herself. “Now I’m talking to birds.” Shaking her head, she wiped at her face again. “I should go—before my dad gets worried.” She’d taken care of what she wanted to anyway. She knew there was a little more damage but not nearly as much as she had imagined. Still, how she was going to pay for any of this was a mystery.... “You guys don’t happen to know where Grandma kept her life insurance policy do you?” She snickered to herself as she got up. If only it were that simple.

She didn’t look back at the empty space where a tree should be or at the rest of the ballroom as she headed toward the door. She used to imagine couples in Civil War era dress spinning around the dance floor. Now, she was imagining festive decorations and the family members she’d lost. This room was special, but Memory thought it might be easier if she never came in here again. She closed the doors behind her and headed over to the parlor to flip the light off.

The birds had moved and were sitting in the window next to her grandma’s chair now. Either that, or there was an identical pair. She knew they were the same, though. She recognized their distinct coloring. “You two have a good night,” she said, flipping the switch and moving to the front door.

Memory locked the door and made sure it was shut good and tight before she headed to her car. Snow crunched beneath her feet and the wind brushed against her cheeks, still damp from her tears.

She climbed into her red Honda Accord and cranked the engine, realizing she’d left her phone in the cupholder. She pulled it out and saw she had a text from her dad wanting to know if she was okay and about home. Memory brushed her hair out of her face and glanced at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were a little puffy, but by the time she drove the three minutes back into town and made her way home, he shouldn’t be able to tell she’d been crying. Assuming she could keep her tears at bay while she drove. Firing off a quick message that she’d be home in less than ten minutes, she put the car in reverse and backed down the drive.

The house seemed lonely, sitting there in the dark, empty, so she didn’t look at it. Instead, she kept her eyes on the road behind her and then shifted into drive without another glance back at the place she loved so well that seemed to be transforming into a stranger before her very eyes.

Christmas lights lined the yards on either side of her as she made her way back into town, and Memory let her mind fill with the joy that was Christmas Falls. People here truly knew how to appreciate the season, how to embrace it, and each other. The last thing they needed was outside influences pouring into town trying to change the way they lived. Her car passed by the Gingerbread House Inn and she had to slow to make it down the narrow lane left by cars parked on either side of the road. Memory shook her head in disgust. All of these people had come to Christmas Falls looking for an authentic Christmas, but that’s not what they’d get at this place.

She had only caught a few glimpses of Dak in the last couple of days since their visit to the coffeeshop. He’d walked by her store the morning before, and she just happened to be looking out the window. He didn’t see her, but she found herself following him with her eyes, wondering if she should run out and say hi to him. That seemed ridiculous, so she hadn’t done it. Then, this afternoon, he’d walked by. Ellie had noticed him then, and she had ran out to wave him down. They’d stood in front of the store chatting for a few moments until the cold weather had forced Ellie back inside. Dak had looked up and seen her staring, offering a little wave, but Memory had looked away without acknowledging him. She felt bad the moment she turned back to see he’d left. Rudeness wasn’t in her genes, but he’d caught her off-guard; she hadn’t meant to stare. It just wasn’t fair that he was so good looking, especially when she really wanted to dislike him.

Not only was he handsome, he was also totally likable in every single way, except for his job. Ellie had told her a dozen times over the last few days that he wasn’t the greedy corporate entrepreneur she was envisioning, but Memory found that hard to believe. She’d thought about pretending she was sick the next day so she didn’t have to “stand next to him” at the Christmas tree lighting, as he’d put it, but she also didn’t want to let him turn her into a liar.

Memory pulled into the driveway and grabbed her phone, her lunch box, and her handbag, looking around to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. Satisfied that she had all her belongings, she headed inside, hoping her dad had made something for dinner. Her stomach growled as she pushed through the front door. The scent of chicken in the oven did not disappoint.

She hung her coat and bag by the door, dropping her keys in the dish on the table underneath the hooks, and carried her lunch box into the kitchen. Bryce was fixing them each a plate. “There she is. Did you get lost? I figured with Ellie there, you wouldn’t be late anymore.”

“Sorry, Dad,” Memory said, setting her lunch box on the counter and grabbing a soda out of the refrigerator. She saw her dad had his glass of tea already poured, so she didn’t offer him one. “I went by the house.”

“Oh.” He carried the plates of chicken, green beans, and mashed potatoes into the dining room, and Memory followed, grabbing silverware out of the drawer as she passed by. “Any more damage?”

“No.” Memory took her seat, wishing she hadn’t mentioned it because she really didn’t want to talk about the house—or anything, for that matter.

Her dad sensed her mood and started chatting about his day, how a woman in his office had gotten a claim about a broken fish tank and they’d had to determine whether or not it was covered as a home appliance. Memory listened, but her mind was wandering. The chicken was good, better than anything she could’ve made, and she finished before her dad since he was talking most of the time. She pushed her plate aside and folded her hands, listening to him end the story, “We decided to go ahead and pay it, though none of us are really sure whether or not the policy covers it.”

“That seems like the fair thing to do,” Memory said, forcing a smile.

“Are you excited about the tree lighting?” her dad asked, cutting another piece of his chicken.

Normally, she would say yes, but this year, the entire situation was just weird. “I don’t know. I’m kind of thinking maybe I won’t go.”

“Memory.... Grandma would want you to go and enjoy yourself.”

“I know. It’s not that.” She ran a hand through her hair. “Okay, part of it is that.” She hadn’t told her dad about Dak—not a word—and she didn’t want to bring him up now. “I’m just really tired.”

“Lorelei will be disappointed if you’re not there,” Bryce reminded her. “We always go as a family.”

That was true, and she didn’t want Lorelei to have any other reasons to be upset at the lighting. She’d already be missing Grandma. “Fine. I’ll go.”

“Good,” her dad said, finishing his meal and pushing up from the table. He walked over to collect her plate, and Memory muttered a thank you, her eyes focused on nothing. Her dad headed into the other room. “Wouldn’t want your new friend to have to watch the lighting alone.”

It took Memory a second to register what he’d said, but when she did, she jumped up after him. “Wait—what? Do you mean Ellie?”

Bryce was giggling quietly to himself as he scraped the plates and set them in the sink. “No, uh, Sheila mentioned something the other dat. She said she saw you talking to a young man in the coffeeshop Tuesday morning.” Bryce shrugged. “I just took a stab that maybe you’d be going to the lighting with him.”

Memory folded her arms and leaned back against the counter, wanting to go tell Sheila to mind her own beeswax. Her dad turned on the water and started rinsing the dishes before she realized what he was doing. “Dad, I’ll do those.”

“It’s fine,” he said, a small grin still on his face. “You wanna tell me about him—or not yet?”

“Dad! It’s nothing like that. Believe me.”

“Okay.”

There was a singsong lilt to his voice Memory did not appreciate. She took the plate he was washing out of his hand and pulled the dishwasher open, yanking the rack out and plopping the plate in between cereal bowls from earlier in the day. “He’s a friend of Ellie’s, not mine. I just went with him to the coffeeshop because Ellie conveniently forgot my latte.”

“So you don’t like him?” Bryce asked, handing her the other plate and reaching over to the stove for the baking dishes.

“I didn’t say that,” Memory replied, not wanting to be rude. “He’s a nice guy, I guess. It’s just....” She took the glass dish her dad had rinsed and worked it into the dishwasher, trying to decide whether or not to tell her dad the truth. Finally, she decided he would find out the next day anyway. “It’s Dakota Brooks, Dad.”

Bryce froze, his head cocked to the side. “Dakota Brooks? Why does that name sound familiar?”

Memory snatched the green bean pot out of his hands and put it in the top rack. “Because your other daughter seems to think he’s my savior—that I should sell Grandma’s house to him and let him turn it into a McHotel.”

“Oh, that Dakota Brooks,” Bryce said, nodding. “Wow—what are the chances of that happening. That Ellie sure seems to have some tricks up her sleeve.”

“It’s not funny, Dad. I thought he was a great guy until I realized that Dak was short for Dakota.” She took the final pot and put it next to the other one before she helped her dad scoop up the silverware and put it in. He grabbed the soap from under the sink and filled the dispenser before she shut the door and turned the machine on.

“What made him not such a nice guy after you found out his name? Did his personality change?”

“No, of course not. It’s just... you know how those guys are. Great at hiding their true colors until they’ve got you where they want you.”

“Or maybe he really is a nice guy, and you just need to calm down and give him a chance, Memory.”

“Dad....” She sighed and walked a few steps away. Obviously, her dad wanted what was best for her, and he was probably starting to think she’d live with him for the rest of her life and never have a family of her own. “He doesn’t even live here, you know? He lives in Chicago. It’s not like I can move.”

“Well, you could....”

“I won’t. I love it here.”

“I know.” Bryce held up his hands. “I’m not saying I’m going to start looking at wedding venues, honey. I’m saying... give the man a chance. Go to the lighting tomorrow, be pleasant, and enjoy yourself. What’s the worst that can happen?” He pecked her on the cheek and walked out of the room, leaving Memory stewing with her arms folded, staring out the back window.

“What’s the worst that can happen?” she repeated. Unfortunately, she already had an answer to that question, and it wasn’t what she would’ve thought. Losing Grandma’s house to him would be bad. Losing her heart would be far worse.