As Cassie sat cross-legged in front of the coffee table wrapping Christmas presents—the Calendar’s task for December 17—everything seemed right with the world.
In just over a week, she’d own the cottage and would be able to put it on the market. Assuming it sold quickly, she could enroll her mother in rehab in a matter of months, not only getting her the help she desperately needed, but perhaps paving the way for a meaningful mother-daughter relationship.
Enveloped by soft acoustic Christmas music, Cassie soaked up the ambiance around her. A bright, crackling fire danced in the hearth. Bits of ribbon and colorful wrapping paper littered the floor like confetti celebrating the stack of presents tucked beneath the tree.
Cassie only had one gift left—Luke’s cuckoo clock. She hadn’t quite decided how to wrap the oddly shaped item.
Cassie’s skin tingled as she envisioned Luke’s face when he opened it. Surely, he would remember sharing his father’s story and understand the significance. In her mind, there wasn’t a more perfect way to tell Luke she loved him. And awaiting his reaction left her breathless with hopeful anticipation.
A loud hammering on the front door caused Cassie to jump in surprise.
Suspecting it might be Luke, she raced to find something to cover the cuckoo clock. But a familiar voice made her blood run cold, rooting her to the spot.
“Knock, knock! It’s Santa!”
Chills skittered down Cassie’s spine as she made her way to the door. And even though she knew exactly who she’d find on the other side, she still blinked in disbelief.
“Hello, daughter of mine,” Donna slurred, slumped against the doorframe.
“Hi, Mom.” Cassie recoiled as the scent of alcohol assaulted her senses. Peering over Donna’s shoulder she asked, “How did you get here?”
“Ride share.” Donna stumbled through the doorway, gripping a large bottle of vodka. “A group of kids on their way to a ski resort or something. Cheap fare, and I gave them my second bottle as a tip.” She waved the vodka above her head, teetered, then clutched the hall table for support.
Cassie cringed, but at least was grateful Donna hadn’t driven herself in her present condition. She hadn’t seen her mother this far gone in a long time.
A tiny twinge of resentment pierced Cassie’s heart. Considering all she had to sacrifice for Donna’s rehab, her mother could at least avoid the binge of the century. But then, if Donna had self-control, they wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place.
Shutting the door against the cold, Cassie helped Donna struggle out of her coat. “What brings you by, Mom? I have to admit, I’m a little surprised to see you.”
“You mean that lovely Christmas card wasn’t an invitation?” Donna’s words dripped with sarcasm and, finally free of her coat, she took a lengthy swig from the bottle.
Her stomach twisting, Cassie watched the level of clear liquid drop rapidly.
“Imagine my surprise when I saw the return address.” Clutching her purse, Donna staggered into the living room. “This place looks exactly the same. Although I didn’t expect to ever see it again. I assumed dear old Mom left it to a charity or something.” The vodka swished in the bottle as Donna collapsed onto the couch. Carelessly, she kicked her boots off and they clattered to the floor.
“I was surprised, too,” Cassie admitted, perching on the edge of the armchair. Then hesitantly, she asked, “Did Grandma leave you anything?”
Donna released a derisive snort. “Some hick lawyer called to say she left me a letter, and would I like to pick it up in person or have it mailed?”
Cassie bristled, certain the “hick” lawyer had been Luke. “And what did you say?”
“I said he could burn it for all I cared.” Donna gulped down the rest of the vodka, then scanned the room as if looking for a place to dispose of her trash.
Clamoring to her feet, Cassie held out her hands. “Here, I’ll take—”
But before she could finish her sentence, Donna lobbed the bottle into the fireplace. Shards of glass shattered against the hearth. The remaining drops of alcohol reacted with the flames, igniting a startling blaze that shot up the chimney.
Cassie flinched as Donna cackled. But at least the drinking would be over now.
As soon as Cassie completed her thought, Donna rummaged through her purse, withdrawing a mini bottle of rum. She immediately twisted off the cap and took a swig.
“Mom, let me make us some coffee.” Cassie stepped quickly toward the kitchen, but Donna waved her hand in dismissal.
“So, daughter…” she slurred, emphasizing the word in a way that concerned Cassie. Had her Christmas card inadvertently provoked her mother’s binge? “Have you sold this dump yet?”
Wincing, Cassie drew in a deep, calming breath. “I haven’t. I don’t technically own it yet.”
Donna’s green eyes narrowed. “Why not?”
“There was… a clause in the will.” Cassie hesitated, uncertain how much she should share. Her mother wasn’t exactly rational under the best of circumstances. The last thing Cassie needed was one of Donna’s famous outbursts.
“What kind of clause?” Donna gulped more of the amber liquid.
Cassie swallowed, her gaze darting to the Christmas Calendar lying on the coffee table beside Luke’s present.
Donna followed her gaze, her eyes widening as they fell on the gold lettering.
With a sigh, Cassie opened her mouth to explain. “That’s—”
“The Christmas Calendar,” Donna murmured, scooping it into her arms.
“Yes. But how did you know?”
Suddenly somber, Donna brushed her palm against the plaid binding, her gaze soft and glistening. “My dad made this the year he got sick.”
Cassie held her breath, afraid to even blink for fear she’d hinder her mother from sharing further.
Donna pressed it to her chest, squeezing her eyes shut. “He wanted to savor every moment of his last Christmas.” Her words carried like a mournful gust of wind, bringing Cassie close to tears.
“That must have been a special Christmas together,” Cassie said softly.
Donna’s eyes flew open and flashed with anger. And as though the fabric had burned her fingertips, Donna flung the Calendar onto the floor. “He died Christmas Eve.”
Dread filled Cassie’s chest as Donna downed the rest of the rum, tossing the empty bottle into the fireplace along with the other one. Once again, the flames erupted as the sound of broken glass clashed with the tranquil melody of Christmas music.
Cassie jerked her head away, unable to watch her mother spiral out of control. “I’m going to make us some coffee.” Turning sharply, she hurried into the kitchen and set a kettle of water on the stove.
Not wanting to leave her mother alone, Cassie prepared the coffee as swiftly as possible, pulling the kettle off the stove before the water had even boiled. After allowing the grounds to steep for two minutes, rather than four, she poured the steaming coffee over three teaspoons of sugar. The spoon shook in her hand as she gave the mixture a quick stir.
Rushing back into the living room with two brimming mugs, Cassie froze.
Donna lay passed out, facedown on the carpet, a puddle of liquid a few inches from her face.
Bleak acceptance filled Cassie’s heart, as it had so many times before. Setting the mugs on the coffee table, she checked her mother’s breathing. Slow and steady.
In case she threw up again, Cassie left Donna lying facedown, and draped a blanket over her sprawled body. Cassie knew her mother would feel better once she slept it off.
Quietly, Cassie cleaned up the mess on the carpet and set to work tidying the rest of the room. As she picked up scraps of wrapping paper and ribbon, a strange uneasiness stirred in the pit of her stomach.
Where was the Christmas Calendar?
The fire crackled and sparked, startling Cassie and drawing her attention.
Her hand flew to her throat.
Singed fragments of plaid fabric and blackened bits of paper wafted up the chimney in a cloud of smoke.
Along with Cassie’s hopes for the future.
Cassie cried until her throat burned and her eyes swelled, unable to shed another tear. Every muscle in her body, including her heart, felt numb.
She wanted to be angry—outraged, even—and show her mother the door once and for all. But as she gazed at Donna, prostrate on the floor, all she felt was pity.
Her mother needed help. Desperately. The drinking was more than a reckless pastime—it was a disease. One that had a grip on Donna so tight, even the people around her couldn’t breathe.
Cassie could think of only one thing to end its hold on both of them.
After getting a much-needed drink of water, Cassie picked up her phone.
“Hey, Cass.” Derek’s tone exuded a mixture of surprise and delight. “It’s great to hear from you.”
“I’m not calling to chitchat.” The phone shook in Cassie’s hand as she forced herself to continue. “I’m calling about your offer.”
“Great! I knew you’d come around.”
Cassie grimaced at his arrogant certainty. This was a mistake. Her finger hovered over the end call button, but her gaze flickered to her mother. Sucking in a breath, she closed her eyes. “I have one condition.”
“Anything.”
“I want a loan… of fifteen thousand dollars.”
Her request was met with silence.
Then Derek’s cool, assured voice filled her ear. “Sure. No problem. When do you want it?”
“Tomorrow morning. Have it wired to my bank account then we’ll meet to discuss the terms of our partnership.”
She held her breath, waiting for Derek to protest her unreasonable demand.
“Will do,” he said. “Shoot me your banking info and I’ll have it squared away in the morning. And, Cass… is everything okay?”
Her lower lip trembled, agitated that he dared to show his concern. And that it affected her.
Squaring her shoulders, she said briskly, “I’ll call you tomorrow to arrange a time and place to meet,” then hung up the phone.
As her breathing slowed, Cassie’s knees weakened and she sank onto the barstool. What had she just done? She thought of Luke and her heart wrenched.
Pressing her palm to her chest, she practiced taking slow, steady breaths. It was only a loan. A temporary solution. She’d work with Derek for a little while, then find a way out. Somehow.
Bleary-eyed, Cassie dragged herself back into the living room. Donna hadn’t moved an inch, but her eyelids quivered as though she were dreaming.
Sagging into the couch, Cassie pulled the quilt around herself.
She needed to sleep. Maybe things would look better in the morning?
Cassie buried her face in the throw pillow, muffling her groan. Who was she kidding? The Calendar was gone—literally a pile of ash. And to think, just that morning, she’d thumbed ahead a few pages to take a sneak peek, then snapped the book shut before she ruined all of the surprises.
Flipping onto her back, Cassie stared at the pine beams stretched across the ceiling. Hindsight really was twenty-twenty. If she’d allowed herself to peek ahead until the end, maybe she could still complete everything. Regret left a sour taste in her mouth.
Cassie squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to fall asleep. She could only solve one problem at a time.
And first, she needed to get Donna into rehab.