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IT TOOK A BIT OF CONVINCING for Lawson to get me to accept the eggnog tasted like it was supposed to and that people would enjoy it. I just couldn’t wrap my head around somebody willingly gulping down the thick, sweet drink. It occurred to me that Lawson said this stuff wasn’t like what was bought in a store, and I couldn’t even imagine what drinking that stuff would be like.
But everybody’s tastes were different, I told myself as we poured the batches we created into a large crystal bowl and settled the ladle into it. These people wanted eggnog; I enjoyed mayonnaise sandwiches as a child. What made us different was what made us beautiful and all that.
Dipping into the hopeful pro-individuality mindset of eighties music made me feel a little better about bringing our creation out into the living room for the guests. This was something they’d specifically asked for, and I didn’t want to disappoint them.
Lawson had set up a card table and covered it with a cloth to create a display for the eggnog. He brought in the large bowl of eggnog as I brought in the glasses. I added a plastic cup for Vint, not thinking it would be the best idea to hand a fragile crystal cup to a little boy excited about Christmas.
“Is everything ready for the singalong?” I asked Lawson.
“Yep,” he said. “I have it all cued up.” He looked around the room. “You know, having a piano in one of these rooms would be a really great addition. It would be awesome to have live music for things like this. That would be so much more traditional for a singalong.”
“Well, that would mean I’d also need someone capable of playing live music on a piano, since I don’t think spontaneously being able to play the piano would be a good use of one of my Christmas miracles.”
Lawson chuckled. “I don’t think those work like wishes. You don’t get doled out a specific number of them at the beginning of the season and ask for them to happen.”
I looked over at him and felt my heart squeeze. He was right.
“The music coming through the speakers will be fine,” I said, then hurried back into the kitchen before he could see the emotion welling up inside me.
I didn’t really have any reason to be in the kitchen. We’d already brought all the glasses and the eggnog out into the living room. But I needed something to look like there was a point to my departure, so I grabbed some crackers and sliced up a couple of blocks of cheese to make a snack for the guests. By the time I got back to the living room with the tray, Nancy was already there.
She was eyeing the eggnog critically like just looking at it would tell her what it tasted like and if we’d succeeded. I set the crackers and cheese down beside the bowl and mustered up the biggest smile I could.
“Good evening, Nancy,” I said. “I’m so glad you decided to join us for the singalong tonight.”
“I don’t sing,” she said firmly.
“Neither do I,” I said.
“Then why are you having a singalong?”
I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Closing it, I turned and walked away from the table, going over to Lawson where he was setting up the music.
“Why are we having a singalong?” I asked.
He lifted an eyebrow at me. “I thought we talked about that. It’s a Christmas tradition. People like to get together and sing Christmas songs.” He flashed a slightly teasing smile. “Most people.”
“You know who isn’t in that most people? Nancy. She came to a singalong to not sing.”
“It’s going to be fine,” Lawson said. “Everybody is going to enjoy it. I promise.”
The music started coming out of his phone, and he tucked his hand behind my head to pull it closer so he could press a kiss to my forehead. Tears stung in my eyes, and I scolded myself for it. I pulled away from him.
“I just realized I didn’t change. I’ll be right back,” I said.
I rushed to my room and closed the door behind me. A couple of deep breaths lessened the painful tightness in my throat and helped me get a hold of myself. I considered splashing some cold water on my face, but that would just mean ruining my makeup, and I didn’t want to leave the guests alone for as long as it would take to scrub it all off and reconstruct it. Instead, I stripped off my clothes to replace them with black pants and a sweater.
It wasn’t an ugly Christmas sweater, but it was burgundy, and that was going to have to be enough.
Back in the living room, Lawson was chatting with the other guests and steering them toward the eggnog. I heard them laughing and could only imagine he was performing a retelling of the story of us making it. He might have been exaggerating about it a little considering the way the guests were reacting. Whatever he was saying, they found it hilarious.
Lawson looked up and noticed me standing in the doorway. He grinned and gestured for me to come over.
“Alright, everybody,” he said. “Holly’s here, so let’s get started on this singalong!”
With fewer than twenty guests staying at the bed-and-breakfast, there wasn’t exactly a huge crowd to go wild at the announcement, but a few of them cheered. I noticed Nancy was sitting in one of the armchairs at the side of the room, her legs crossed primly and a cup of eggnog in her hand. She didn’t look thrilled at the singalong announcement, but she lifted the cup to her lips regularly. At least it seemed I was getting her stamp of approval on that.
Lawson went over to the phone and cued up the instrumental music for the first song on our list. As the guests took their cups and gathered closer around the tree, I wondered if we should have thought about printing out lyrics. But pretty quickly my worries about some of the guests not knowing the words to the songs disappeared as they burst out singing.
He looked at me and gave a bob of his head, trying to get me to come closer. I stayed where I was, wanting to just kind of observe and warm up before throwing myself into the seasonal jubilation. The guests sang and laughed, drinking the eggnog and occasionally toasting each other. I tried to enjoy it, getting myself a napkin full of cheese and crackers and inching closer to start humming along, but my heart felt so heavy it was hard to get whipped up into the spirit.
The music transitioned from a traditional carol to one of the fun, bouncy children’s songs, and Lawson started dancing. His silliness was genuine rather than it looking like he was showing off, and I noticed even Nancy was starting to tap her toe and bob her head along with the song. It brought a smile to my lips, and I had a brief moment of happiness, but it didn’t take long for everything to come back. As soon as I remembered that happiness went away, and everything just felt harder.
In between songs, I noticed a couple of the adult guests go over to the mantle and pick up the bottle of rum Lawson got when we were shopping for eggnog ingredients. They tipped a healthy amount into the nearly empty eggnog glasses, then went over to the bowl to top them off with more eggnog. Taking sips brought out nods and little sounds of approval.
Ian, Nancy’s son who was traveling with her, went for the bottle and brought it over to his mother. She lifted the glass eagerly, and he poured some in. She smiled and nodded when she took a sip.
“Now it’s perfect,” she said.
Booze to the rescue.
Curious, I went over to the table and got a glass, put half a ladle of eggnog into it, and then made my way to the mantle, where Ian had replaced the bottle. I added some of the rum to the drink, thought about it for a second, and added more. It gave the eggnog a darker color, and I stared at it, wondering if this was a bad idea.
What the hell. I already hated eggnog. Adding rum to it could not possibly make it any worse.
I took a cautious sip. It didn’t immediately taste horrible. I tried a slightly larger sip. It actually wasn’t bad. Apparently, that was the secret. Spike your eggnog, and it became palatable.
I finished the glass and made myself another one. Another bottle of rum along with some whiskey and bourbon I had in the cabinets arrived on the mantle, and pretty soon, I was joining in on the singing. I couldn’t absolutely promise I was in tune or even that I was singing the same song as everyone else, but I was in their midst and giving it my all.
A couple of times Lawson looked over at me with a raised eyebrow, but I ignored him. He wanted me to be festive, so there I was. Jingling my bells and counting down the twelve days.
When the bowl was almost empty and Vint was already curled up asleep on the couch, the guests called it a night and drifted out of the living room toward the stairs. I was still in the middle of the living room, swaying to the softer music coming out of Lawson’s phone and nursing another eggnog. This one had whiskey in it. Maybe. It had something in it.
“Did you have fun?” Lawson asked.
I lifted the glass toward him in a toast. “Merry almost Christmas.”
“Alright,” he said with a laugh. “I’ll help you clean up, and then you should get to bed.”
“Maybe I don’t want to,” I said, taking another sip.
“What is going on with you?”
“Did you know eggnog is so much better with rum? Like... so much better,” I said.
He nodded. “That’s why people drink it that way.”
“Did you have any?”
“No.”
I went over to the table and made him a glass. I dumped the rest of the bottle of rum into it and pressed it into his hand. He sipped it and gave the nod I was starting to think was some sort of international symbol for something tasting better when spiked.
We started cleaning up, though in retrospect, I probably wasn’t the most helpful person. I was too busy thinking about everything that happened and wondering why my Christmas had to turn out like this. Before I could stop myself, it all came tumbling out.
“So, when were you going to tell me you had some girl waiting for you when you go home? Monica. What kind of name is that? And why didn’t you just say something? Why couldn’t you be like... ‘Hey, Holly, I’m pretending real life doesn’t exist while I’m here, so I’m going to fool around with you, but then when this whole sparkling Christmas nonsense is over, I’m going home with my house and my girlfriend and my regular clothes and my bathing suits because it won’t be winter eventually.’”
Lawson paused in the doorway of the living room, holding the eggnog bowl. He blinked at me a couple of times, and I tossed back the last of my drink.
