“Aunt Memory! You’re here!” Lorelei shouted as Memory came through the door of her dad’s house, the same one she’d grown up in. The four-year-old rocketed up into her arms, and Memory just got them open in time to snatch her up.
“My goodness, Lor! You just saw me yesterday!” She giggled and patted her niece on the back before the girl shifted so she could see her pretty face.
“I know, but we’re making gingerbread houses with Grandpa! And you can help!” Lorelei wiggled, and Memory set her down, her fingers quickly caught up in the little girl’s sticky hand as she pulled her to the kitchen.
The three-bedroom ranch wasn’t nearly as big as her grandma’s house, but Memory still felt at home here. Her dad had kept the place fixed up nicely, despite his decorating challenges, and when she walked into the kitchen to see him covered with flour, Anson sitting in his high chair next to him, clapping his little hands, Memory was glad she called this place home. She tossed her coat on the back of a chair at the dining room table as she passed through to the kitchen where the rest of the family was gathered.
“Anson thinks dad should be the Ghost of Christmas Past,” Kirsten laughed as Anson tossed another handful of flour in Bryce’s direction.
“Why do you even have flour out for gingerbread houses? You weren’t making your own gingerbread were you?” Like everyone else in their family, Bryce was no cook.
He shrugged. “No, but I was thinking I might be able to use it to make snow—or my hair even grayer.”
The girls giggled, and Anson joined in, not sure what he was laughing at but having the time of his life, playing in the flour and chewing on gumdrops.
“Lorelei, honey, come put the peppermints on the roof. We’re going to have to head out soon if we’re going to have dinner ready when Daddy gets home from work.”
“Another long day for Maison?” Memory asked, walking behind the rest of the family to put her lunch box away and pour a glass of tea.
“Yeah. This case is taking him longer than he thought. He’s been working extra late the last few weeks, not that you would know anything about that,” her bigger sister replied, flipping her long blonde hair over her shoulder.
“Right?” Memory agreed, taking a sip of her tea. At least, with Ellie there, she’d managed to get those boxes mailed out that afternoon. It seemed so strange that the woman had suddenly appeared with all of the traits she needed in the perfect employee—and she didn’t even have to pay her.
“Aunt Memory, come help me!” Lorelei insisted, beckoning with her little hand.
“Okay, what do I do?” Memory asked, setting her glass on the counter and coming up behind her niece who was standing on a chair so she could reach the counter.
“You put the peppermints on the roof, like this. See?” She took a red and white striped candy and stuck it in a generous blob of white frosting already smeared on the gingerbread house roof.
“Easy enough,” Memory replied, picking up another mint and attaching it next to Lorelei’s.
“You got it!” the girl exclaimed, and Anson clapped some more.
Laughing, Memory picked up another mint and attached it to the roof. “If only real roofs were this easy to fix.”
“I can’t believe they want ten thousand dollars to patch that,” Kirsten said, pulling Anson away from the flour so she could clean him up.
“Yeah, you should’ve heard the quote I got for the new roof,” Memory muttered. There was no way she’d be able to afford that.
“Honey, you know you don’t have to shoulder all of that yourself,” her dad reminded her for the hundredth time.
“I know, Dad, but Grandma left the house to me. I should fix it myself.”
Kirsten was wiping Anson’s face with a wet cloth. “Or just sell it.”
Memory froze, peppermint in hand, and turned to look at her sister over her shoulder. “Don’t even joke about that, Kirsten. It’s not funny.”
“What? No, I’m sorry, Memory. I know it’s a sensitive subject with you. I’m just saying... you could make a nice amount of money if you sold it and put that into your business.”
“Kirsten....”
“Did you hear what the Daniels got for their house? And now it’s going to be a bed and breakfast.”
“That’s right—run by a big corporation that could care less about families or maintaining the spirit of Christmas.” Memory shook her head and turned back to the gingerbread house.
“Fine, so don’t sell it to a corporation. Sell it to a private investor--or another family. I’m just saying, I don’t think Grandma would be upset if you didn’t keep it forever.” She finished wiping Anson off and unbuckled him from the highchair.
Memory disagreed. “I’m not selling it. It’s Grandma’s house. It needs to stay in our family.”
Anson reached his hands for his grandpa, and Bryce lifted him out . He didn’t have to say anything for Memory to know he agreed with Kirsten. They’d had this discussion before.
“My friend Jen was talking about some private investor from Indianapolis who’s in town right now, trying to get a feel for how we do Christmas at Christmas Falls. She heard he’s considering buying a few properties and fixing them up. For what, she didn’t say, but he doesn’t seem like the sort of big, greedy corporate fair you’re trying to avoid. Maybe you should talk to him.”
“Maybe you should worry about your own self,” Memory said back without turning her head, and Kirsten sighed loudly while Bryce told her to let it go, prompting Lorelei to break into the theme song from Frozen which had them all laughing, including Memory, despite her frustration at her sister’s suggestion.
Memory watched as Lorelei placed the last peppermint. “All done!”
“It looks wonderful!” Memory said, hugging her, as they all clapped.
“Let’s take it home to Daddy,” Kirsten suggested. “If it can make the car ride.”
“I’ll wrap it up. Surely it can make it four blocks,” Bryce said, headed to the pantry to grab whatever he needed to make sure the house didn’t fall in on itself in the car.
“Coats!” Kirsten announced, and Lorelei groaned but then ran into the living room looking for hers. Memory followed, deciding she could help her niece with her coat while Kirsten wrapped Anson up. Lorelei had one arm in by the time Memory reached her. She pulled the other sleeve around and held it for her.
“Thanks, Aunt Memory!”
“You’re welcome.” Memory zipped it up, pulled her hood up and fastened it, and then helped her with her gloves. “It’s cold out there.”
“I love you, Aunt Memory,” Lorelei said, leaning forward for a kiss.
Memory kissed her cheek and squeezed her. “I love you, too.”
“Are you gonna sell Grandma’s house? I hope not. I miss Grandma Helen.”
“No, honey. I’m not gonna sell it. I miss her, too.”
“Come on, Lor,” Kirsten said, slinging the diaper bag over her arm and reaching for the doorknob while she balanced Anson and gestured for her daughter to come along. A cold blast of air hit Memory as she walked to the door with them, and she folded her arms against her chest. “All I’m saying is, think about it, Memory. His name is—Dakota something. Bridges? Branson? Brooks—Jen said he grew up in Caramel. Her husband knows him from college. He’s a good guy.”
“Good night, Kirsten,” Memory said, holding the door for her sister even though she wanted to slam it on her. If only she wasn’t holding that baby.... She waved goodbye to all of them and closed the door against the cold, watching through the window to make sure they all got buckled in and Kirsten made it out of the slushy driveway before she went back into the kitchen to help her dad clean up the mess.