Page 97 of Meet Me on Mistletoe Lane

“That checks out.” Jo chuckled. “Wait till you see my plans for my new tastings for Eve. You’re gonna flip.”

But then my phone dinged.

I checked it and cringed at the calendar alert. “Crap. I forgot I promised to swing by the stables to brush Shadowfax for Sheriff Kingston.”

Jo made a face. “Since when are you Shadowfax’s groomer?”

“Since…” I opened my mouth and then closed it, thinking. “The sheriff started helping out with Toys for Tots at the fire department.”

“Gianna…”

“I know. I know.” I held up both hands and backed away. “But I promise I’ll be at your place in like an hour. Hour and a half, tops, okay?”

Jo crossed her arms and tapped her fingers. “If you’re later than that, you don’t get to eat any of my samples.”

I saluted her. “I won’t be late.”

I was late.

Only by a half hour, but Jo being Jo took pity on me and saved some of the prep for a new cookie recipe she created. Her dads were out Christmas shopping, so we had the house to ourselves. Each year, they chose a different theme for their interior decor, and this year’s choice was a Little Women Christmas in honor of Jo’s namesake.

Every room was adorned with burgundy and gold accents and scented with cedar, dried oranges, and cinnamon. New needlepoint stockings hung from their fireplace, which was draped with a soft garland covered in bronze sleigh bells and small bows. Their coffee table had a centerpiece arrangement of citrus fruits with tall, drippy candles framing it.

Their live tree, though, was my favorite part. It was simple yet elegant, with strands of popcorn and cranberries and ornaments made of dried oranges and paper-star shapes. There were no twinkle lights to be seen. The only light came from dozens of small battery-operated candles clipped to its branches.

“Everything is so beautiful in here,” I said as I tossed my coat over the back of their couch and unwrapped my scarf.

“Thank you,” Jo said from the kitchen, which was open into the living room.

I hopped up on a barstool and rested my elbows on the counter. “So, what can I do to help?”

She tossed me two boxes of candy canes and a gallon Ziploc bag. “Unwrap these and then toss them into the bag. Once you do that, I’ll give you a hammer to beat the crap out of them.”

“You got it.” I pushed up my sleeves and got to work while humming along to the music of Holiday Inn playing on the TV in the background.

Thirty minutes in, I had most of the candy canes unwrapped, but I was interrupted by a pinching, pulsing sensation in my forehead above my eyebrow. I kept stopping to try to rub the pain away, but it didn’t work.

“You okay?” Jo stepped away from the stand mixer, which was humming away as it spun on a low setting.

“Yeah.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Just can’t shake this headache.”

“When did you last eat?”

Um…

“Gianna, when you don’t eat, your body will remind you about it in not-so-nice ways.” Jo laid her hands on mine over the bag.

“I know.” I hopped off the stool and did my best not to look as dizzy as I felt before grabbing a glass from the cabinet for some water. “It was a busy day.”

“It didn’t have to be.”

“What does that mean?” I leaned against the counter and drank almost half the glass. Guess I was thirsty after all.

She switched off her stand mixer and spoke with her back to me. “There’s a reason you put your own mask on first before you help others on an airplane.”

“Okay…”

“You can’t keep giving everything to everyone else and leave nothing for yourself.” She turned around and tucked her hands into the pockets of her apron. “Have you even started packing or thinking about your trip to Italy in a few weeks?”