Free 2 Weeks 'Til Eve (2 'Til Series Book 3) by Heather Muzik Page A

that
Fynn had picked out.
    “I’ve said my piece, now, regardless of all that
craziness, we want to see you and that means coming to you. Plus, our
granddaughter would love to see us.”
    Catherine couldn’t believe how diabolical her mother
was that she would try to wield her power with the wishes of an
as-yet-to-be-born grandchild.
    “I’m sure Cara is terribly excited about Christmas and
we could help keep her busy while you go into the home stretch.”
    “Oh, Cara.” Jealousy surged that her mother was so
easily able to identify her place in the little girl’s life while she, herself,
stumbled all over it.
    Catherine could hear her mother through the earpiece,
shuffling around—probably washing something or ironing something or dusting
baseboards and fan blades like a proper housecleaner would do—like she had only
ever done when her mother was due for a visit.
    “Mom, you know, I’m really going to have to call you
back. We are just about to put dinner on the table.” As if hanging up now—not
responding to the offered visit—would simply make it unhappen.
    “Oh.” The voice was brittle in her ear.
    “I’ll talk to Fynn about it. Not that it wouldn’t be
lovely to have you, but just let me—” She stopped herself before she dropped
the “warn” word that was on her lips. Warn him. Change the locks. Move
without a forwarding address.
    As she hung up the phone, Cara was right there beside
her.
    “When are they coming?”
    “I don’t know if—”
    “I hope it’s soon. I can’t wait!”
    She was obviously too young to understand that having
Pop-Pop and Gramma Lizzy come was like taking a trip to H-E-double-hockey-sticks.

 
     
     
     
     
    Making a List
     

 
    Monday, December 4 th  
     

-11-
     
     
    Snow had fallen overnight, refreshing the dirty remnants
from the last storm that had come through, sugarcoating Main Street all over
again. Picture perfect. Exactly what Christmas should look like. And come night
there would be six figures of twinkling lights aglow in what seemed like some
sort of seasonal magic rather than the hard work of several town employees. Wreaths
and bows and snow-dusted greenery were everywhere, and Catherine was proud that
at least something would be beyond Elizabeth Hemmings’ reproach…. Although
Mel’s unadorned diner would definitely raise her mother’s eyebrow.
    Every town had its Scrooge and Mel was Nekoyah’s. No
wreaths. No jingle bells. No Christmas tree. No lights. No Christmas carols
piped through speakers that didn’t exist. The only background noises in the
diner were the ones heard year round—plates knocking together, food sizzling in
the kitchen, and people murmuring over their day-to-day lives.
    All around businesses embraced the season, surrounding
their customers with pointed offerings: Christmas-scented candles in stores, Christmas
treats at bakeries, Christmas flavors for creamer and ice cream, Christmas
shapes for cookies and crackers. Companies were alive with the spirit of
profiting off of holiday fare and customers were literally eating up the ploy.
Catherine had certainly partaken. And willingly.
    But Mel didn’t go for gimmicks. She didn’t offer a special
menu of eggnog or hot cider or Santa-shaped pancakes. The menu was the menu was
the menu—every day the same since its inception. And the décor was the décor
from the moment she first opened. Stubborn and set in her ways, Mel.
    Catherine’s phone buzzed in her purse and she fumbled
for it with her bulky mittens. Tara again: CALL ME OR ELSE.
    She shook her head. Now Tara was resorting to threats.
Empty ones at that. Back in New York such a message would have been followed up
with a rock through her window and a Tara on her fire escape. I’ll take “Or
Else” for five hundred, Alex, and a  la-de-freakin’-da to you, Tara Delrio .
She slid her phone back in her purse, feeling only marginally guilty about it. Tara
didn’t know what she was up to at this very moment. She