Page 93 of Not Home Alone

“Oh, April! You’re so welcome.” I wrap my arms around her, waiting for her to hug me back, but she doesn’t. It’s fine.

She pats me on the back, and when I pull away, she says, “I think I might get involved with theater production somehow.”

“Wow. That’s wonderful. I’m so happy to hear this.”

“Yeah. But not for a career, or anything. Just for fun. I’m way too practical to want to work in the theater.”

“Lucky you,” I mutter.

“But I think you should,” she says. “It’s dumb that you haven’t been.”

“Agreed. And I will. I look forward to enlisting you to work with me for no pay again.”

She’s trying so hard not to smile at me, bless her. “Well, I won’t like it but—deal.”

I look around for Grant and see that Harold is shaking his hand. What is he doing here? He doesn’t look sick. He just looks like he’s begrudgingly congratulating Grant, who catches sight of me and winks.

It is ridiculous what that does to me. A wink from across a crowded room. I cannot wait to get back home alone with him later tonight, so we can—“There she is!” My dad makes his way through the backstage crowd.

I shut those thoughts of what I’m going to do with Grant later down real fast.

Dad’s wearing his Santa hat, as always, and carrying a bouquet of red and white roses and greenery. Handing it to me, he says, “Well, gosh darn it, sweetheart. I’m always proud of you, but tonight I just feel like my heart could burst.” He wraps one arm around my shoulder, so he doesn’t squish my flower bouquet.

“Thanks, Pops.” Looking up at him beaming at me, I gasp. “Oh my goodness! Dad! Did you trim your nose and ear hairs?”

“My Christmas gift to you, kid,” he says, very proud of himself now. “I left the eyebrows the way they were, though. That’s my Christmas gift to Connie.” Leaning in, he says into my ear, “But you’re the gift that keeps on giving, sweetheart. Always have been. Always will be.”

“Aww, thanks, Dad.”

“Connie and her family are waiting outside. They weren’t sure if there’s room for all of them backstage, but they all really loved it. Everyone did. Her sisters may have loved your boyfriend’s rearview a little too much.”

“Understandable.”

“Hey,” he says. “If you felt left out this Christmas, I’m so sorry.”

“It worked out okay,” I reassure him, smiling.

“It did, didn’t it? Told you it would. Things always do for us. Eventually.”

I wonder if I’ll ever tell him the reason things worked out for his store is that I was pretending to date my current real boyfriend. Definitely not tonight. I think tonight we all need to believe that things are working out because of Christmas magic. After giving him one last squeeze, I say, “Yeah. You were right.”

“See you at brunch tomorrow?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“You’re bringing your boyfriend too, right?”

“Absolutely.”

When he walks out, I hear him say, “Hey there, Mrs. Crowley! Meh-rry Christmas!”

Oh god. I feel bad that I tense up just knowing she’s here, but it’s so weird and out of context. I am about to turn away, not wanting her to see me, but I also can’t look away. She’s wearing all black, as usual, but her long gray hair is up in a bun. She’s not scowling at me. When she isn’t scowling, she looks beautiful. Elegant, even. Which is kind of even more terrifying.

“You…” she says, pointing to me as she approaches.

“Me?” I hold my bouquet in front of myself, as if it can protect me from a witch’s curse, but I am frozen in place.

“You.” She stops a foot in front of me and says, “That was the best production of this play that I have ever seen. And I’ve sat in the back of the house every year since 1958.”