Free Jenny Lopez Saves Christmas by Lindsey Kelk Page B

Are you having the best time?’ she asked when I answered. ‘I hate my children. Do you want them?’
    â€˜Yes, not really and hell no,’ I replied. ‘Didn’t you get my message?’
    â€˜I haven’t had a chance to look at my phone,’ she said before pulling away to admonish one of her kids for throwing something at someone. ‘What’s wrong?’
    â€˜The electricity is out.’ I pressed my fingers into my temples, trying to drive my headache inwards. ‘Nothing works.’
    She didn’t need to know about the tree or the food or my dragging a turkey half a mile through the snow while dressed like one of Santa’s slutty hiking helpers.
    â€˜Oh crap,’ she sighed. ‘I’m sorry. It’s probably one of the circuit breakers. We keep meaning to get the electrician out. Most of the time it’s fine.’
    I rolled my eyes at my reflection. This was the problem with being in a couple. When problems like this came up, neither of you actually fixed it because you figured the other one would. When you were on your own, you got used to taking care of business. Not that I had to worry about the circuit breakers in my upstate country mansion, but when a light bulb went out in the apartment, I totally fixed it myself. Usually within a month.
    â€˜There’s no way we’ll get anyone out tonight,’ I said, trying not to sound accusatory when I felt completely accusatory and completely justified. ‘Point me in the direction of the fuse box and I’ll go take a look. Maybe they just tripped or something.’
    â€˜Yeah, maybe, that happens sometimes too,’ she said. Funny how she hadn’t mentioned that her house was a death trap before she sent me up there. ‘They’re down in the basement.’
    Sure. Of course they were down in the basement. I’d survived a car ride with a complete stranger, why wouldn’t she send me down into the basement of an old lake house with no electricity on Christmas Eve?
    â€˜If you go round to the back of the house, there’s a door underneath the porch. Do you have a flashlight?’
    â€˜Yes, because I always walk around the city with a flashlight in my purse,’ I replied. ‘I have my phone, Erin, like normal people.’
    â€˜I was going to say there’s a flashlight in the kitchen, smartass,’ she said. ‘I’ve got to go − these kids are driving me crazy and if they don’t behave I’m telling Santa to take all of their presents back to the North Pole.’
    I heard some non-gender-specific whining in the background, followed by a shriek, followed by a sob.
    â€˜Shit, TJ fell down. Honey, are you bleeding? Are you bleeding, honey?’ Erin said, her voice panicky. ‘Let me know if you can’t fix it. Bye.’
    â€˜Bye,’ I said to the dead line. ‘Great talking to you.’
    Sitting in the driver’s seat, hot phone in my cold hand, I looked up at the lake and considered my options. I could either turn on the engine and drive straight into the icy water to my certain death, or I could go round back and try to figure out the circuit breakers and save Christmas. It was a tougher choice than it should have been.
    It would be one thing to be murdered by a serial killer, but everyone would be super pissed with me if I killed myself on Christmas Eve, I reasoned. And Angie did say she had presents for me.
    Plus, driving into a lake was all a little desperate fifties’ housewife for my liking. If I was going to go out, it could at least be doing something a little more glamorous, not that playing electrician in the pitch-black was that sexy. You hardly ever saw tradesmen in
People
’s ‘100 Most Beautiful People’ issue.
    *
    Finding the door to the basement was pretty easy. Finding the balls to open it and go inside was a different matter entirely. Unzipping my coat to give me more manoeuvrability, I