Chapter 2 - The Return Call
“No, sweetheart,” I told him, forcing every ounce of warmth and steadiness into my voice that I could muster. “You are the best boy in the entire world. Grandma just made a terrible mistake. That’s all.”
Eli wiped his nose with his sleeve, sniffing twice. “Is Grandma mad at me because I didn’t wear my red sweater?”
“No. Grandma isn’t mad at you. She’s just… confused.” I brushed the damp curls away from his forehead, my fingers freezing numb against his skin. “Let’s get inside the car right now and turn on the heater. We’ll get some hot cocoa from the gas station down the highway, okay?”
“Can we listen to Christmas songs on the radio?” he asked, his big brown eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
“All the ones you want,” I promised.
I buckled him into his booster seat, making sure his jacket was tucked in properly before closing the door. As I walked around to the driver’s side, the biting wind whipped snow across the empty parking lot. My fingers fumbled with the keys twice before I managed to unlock the door.
Inside the cabin, it was still freezing, but at least the wind couldn’t reach us. I started the engine, blasting the defroster as high as it would go. The dashboard heater blew out lukewarm air that slowly smelled faintly of dust and burnt leaves.
I looked in the rearview mirror. Eli was staring out the window, his breath fogging the glass. He traced a little smiley face in the condensation with his index finger.
My chest tightened until it felt like a fist was crushing my ribs. Two years since my divorce. Two years of working double shifts as a senior accountant while raising Eli alone, with zero help from my parents, who had decided my divorce was a “failure of character.” Two years of trying to keep the peace, sending Mother’s Day cards, buying birthday gifts for Grant, and driving up every holiday just to be treated like an unwelcome guest.
Tonight was the absolute breaking point.
I put the gearshift into reverse, my tires spinning slightly in the packed slush before catching traction. I glanced once more at Cedar Ridge Lodge. The warm light spilling from the windows looked obscene now, a golden beacon hiding a nest of cold-hearted snobbery.
Just as my foot eased onto the accelerator to pull out of the lot, my phone buzzed violently in the cup holder.
The screen flashed a name that made my heart leap into my throat: Grandma Helen.
My grandmother rarely used her cell phone, and she almost never called after five o’clock because of her failing eyesight and early bedtime routine.
I swiped the answer button immediately, pressing the phone to my ear.
“Natalie?” Her voice came through the speaker—sharp, commanding, and shaking with a cold fury that I hadn’t heard in decades. “Where in God’s green earth are you?”
“Grandma?” I breathed, tears finally spilling over my eyelashes. “We… we just left. Mom said there was no room. She told us we weren't on the list and sent us away.”
A sharp intake of breath hissed through the line.
“She did what?” Grandma Helen’s voice rose an octave, cutting through the static like a razor. “Denise told you to leave? On Christmas Eve? At my lodge?”
“She said fire marshal regulations… that the house was at capacity.”
“Capacity?” A harsh, humorless laugh barked from the receiver. “That lodge has eighty rooms, and there are barely twenty people inside besides my card-playing friends from the valley! Your mother has lost her mind entirely.”
Before I could answer, my grandmother’s tone shifted into a command that brook no argument.
May you like
“Turn around right now,” she ordered. “Drive this car straight back to the front steps, walk through that door, and let me see anyone try to stop you. I am waiting in the grand parlor. Get in here this instant, Natalie!”
The line clicked dead.
