“Did you bring me a Manhattan?”
My grampa is sitting up in bed when we return. Noah and Leah are visiting.
“It’s water and green tea for you,” Noah says. He stands and picks up a cup off the tray and holds out the straw to my grampa. “And maybe a touch of Ensure.”
“Yum,” Grampa says with a groan. He takes a sip and pretends to gag at the taste. “Santa prefers eggnog with a little something extra.”
My grandma walks over and pats his stomach. “Santa’s already got a little something extra. You’re getting healthy this year,” she says. She removes his Santa cap, gives him a big smooch on the noggin and replaces his hat. “What are we going to do with you, you old coot?”
It finally dawns on me that my entire team is here in the hospital.
“Who’s running the store?” I ask.
“Holly,” Leah says. “She hasn’t left.”
“Where’s she staying?”
“With me,” Noah finally says, eyes down. “She didn’t want to bother you. She knows how overwhelmed you are.”
My heart drops. I sigh. “I’m so sorry,” I say. “To everyone. I just felt a bit like I woke up and I was being pushed into a corner trying to confront some things I haven’t wanted to.”
“Nobody puts baby in a corner,” Noah says.
I smile.
“I just felt a bit like a feral cat with all the attention. I do appreciate all of your love and concern, I just didn’t know how to handle it.”
Noah nods. “Don’t worry. Holly and I have been Laverne and Shirley. I even sewed big N and H letters on our sweaters.” He looks at me and opens his coat. “See, I’m not kidding.”
My grampa laughs and shakes his head. I think he considers Noah to be a combination of the grandson he never had and a magical unicorn. Then he begins to cough.
“I think it’s time for a rest,” my grandma says. “Lots of company and excitement today.”
“Wanna get some lunch?” Leah asks.
I nod.
“We’ll meet you in the cafeteria in a bit,” she says.
They leave, and my grandma and I take a seat in the chair by his bed.
“My girls,” my grampa says, looking at us.
“I’m so sorry, Grampa. I don’t know if I could have lived with myself if something had happened to you. I feel so awful for everything that happened.” I shake my head. “I know I overreacted to the whole Single Kringle thing. I’m sorry. About everything. I sound like a broken record. It’s true what I just said—I did sort of feel like a feral cat who suddenly is confronted by a group of well-meaning rescuers pushing companionship when she’s used to sort of doing it all on her own. The idea of...something new...can be scary.”
“I understand,” he says. “And it’s not your fault, honey. My ticker just got a little sicker for a bit. On the mend now.”
I stand, take a seat on the mattress beside him and take his hand in mine.
“I just need you to know that you didn’t do anything wrong. You did everything right.” My grampa is staring at me. “You took me in and raised me not as your granddaughter but as your own daughter. You didn’t act all weird, as if Mom and Dad never existed. You kept their memory alive. You talked about them with happiness and not tears. You didn’t keep me in a bubble, you pushed me out of my comfort zone so I’d have a normal life just like any other kid. You believed in me enough to hand me your dream, the reins to Sleigh By the Bay. I love you more than anything.”
“Oh, Susan,” he says. “I know that. I’ve never doubted that. And I love you more than anything in this world, too. Do you know why we opened Sleigh By the Bay?”
“You loved books? You wanted to be your own boss?”
“Because books are just like Christmas. They’re gifts that bring joy, allow us to see the world in a new way, and something you never want to end,” my grampa says. A tiny smile crawls across his face. “What a gift it is to bring joy into people’s lives every day of the year. That’s what you do for us.”
“I need to have as much faith in myself as you’ve always had in me,” I say.
Grampa gives my hand a little shake. “It doesn’t take a Santa cap to make yourself magical,” he says. “It just takes a little faith.”
Forgiveness.
Darkness.
Light.
Hope.
All separated by just a few letters but a world of faith.
“I promise I’ll give your whacky Single Kringle idea a shot,” I say. “Just a few dates. I’ll have faith in you and me.”
I hear a resounding whoop echo in the hallway.
“You didn’t go to lunch, did you?” I call.
Noah races back into the room, followed closely by Leah.
“Can I call Holly with the news?” Noah asks. “And can I finally dress you up like Sandy at the end of Grease? You could at least do with a bit more eye makeup and a red lip. And no to your puffy coats and the athletic wear you think looks appropriate in public. Ooh! Let’s do leather. And get you in a pump. Can I cut your hair?”
“Yes, you can tell Holly,” I say. “And no you can’t put me in leather pants or cut my hair.”
Leah walks up to me and puts her hand on my back.
“We’ve all been talking, too,” she says.
“We?”
“Me, Holly and Noah. And we have decided to have more faith in ourselves, too. I need to get back out there as well. So we promise that we’re putting ourselves out there again so you won’t have to go through this alone.”
I cock my head. “Meaning?”
“We’re going to date, too. Noah and I are going to be Single Kringles, too.”
I suddenly remember the article in the Petoskey paper. “The Three Stooges,” I say. “This has disaster written all over it.” They laugh. “And, I cannot believe I have to go back on social media.”
“Everything is changing so quickly,” my grampa says. “Kids can now track my progress around the world with the NORAD Santa Tracker. It’s a new world.”
“And now they’ll be able to track our dating lives,” I say with a sigh. “What a gift to the world.”
“Santa’s on vacation until next year,” he says. “All eyes are on Susan.”
“It’s gonna be a long winter,” I say.