The Cottage on Juniper Ridge. Sheila Roberts
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changed her mind. It happens. But don’t worry. I’ll find you a buyer.”
“Thanks,” Jen said, trying to sound upbeat and appreciative. “I know you’re trying to sell this place.”
“Frankly, I can’t understand why we haven’t found a buyer. It’s a great condo, and it’s definitely priced to sell.”
Because it isn’t in the cards, Jen thought. The fact that the condo hadn’t sold was a sign that she wasn’t supposed to move. She was doomed to stay in her crappy life, working as an office drone and selling candles to the Alma Tuttles of the world.
She thanked Hannah, then hung up and slumped against the couch cushions. From her window she had a beautiful view of the Seattle skyline. This was really a lovely place. She hated it here!
She was still staring grumpily out the window when the phone rang again. This time it was her sister.
“How was the candle party?” Toni asked.
“A dud. Like my life.”
“Well, that’s upbeat.”
“My Realtor just called. Still no bites.”
“Maybe you’re not meant to sell it,” Toni suggested.
“Thanks,” Jen said miserably.
“Maybe you’re meant to rent it instead.”
“Rent it?” Jen repeated. She hadn’t thought of that.
“I shouldn’t be doing this,” her sister said. “I really hate to see you move. But at least if you rented and you didn’t like it up there, you’d have someplace to come back to.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Jen muttered.
“Hey, it never hurts to have a plan B. Anyway, if you’re interested in renting, I think I know someone who’d want your condo.”
Jen bolted upright. “You do?”
“My neighbor. Her divorce became final and she’s looking for a place where she can make a new start. She might even be open to renting with an option to buy if you decide you want to go that route. She works downtown, so your place would be perfect for her.”
“Does she have a house to sell?” That would take time. Jen knew this now, from personal experience.
“No, she and her ex were renting.”
“So, if she liked the condo she could move in right away.”
“Probably,” Toni agreed. “Should I give her your number?”
“Absolutely!” If the place didn’t sell, she’d have someone who could make her payments. That would get her out from under just as well as a sale. Yes! This was a sign. She was meant to move.
The aroma of burning cookie wafted to where she sat and she remembered she was baking. She dashed to the kitchen, phone in hand and, propping the phone between her ear and shoulder, put on her oven mitt and opened the oven. A plume of smoke wafted out to greet her, stinging her eyes and making her cough. She pulled out the cookie sheet with her blackened gingerbread boys. Eeew.
A moment later the smoke alarm went off.
“What’s happening?” Toni asked.
“I burned my cookies. I’ve got to go.”
“Okay. Try not to burn down the condo before you get it rented,” Toni teased, and hung up.
Jen grabbed a towel and flapped it in the direction of the smoke detector, all the while scolding herself for forgetting to set the timer. Finally, the noise subsided. “Well, you guys are history,” she informed the ruined cookies.
Maybe, if she was lucky, her life here would soon be history, too.
Taking a hard look at the changes we need to make can be harder than actually making those changes.
—Muriel Sterling, author of Simplicity
Toni loved Christmas Eve. It was the one occasion when she could count on seeing her extended family. They all poured into her mother’s house in West Seattle—grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins, second cousins. Even Santa (her crazy uncle Dave) made an appearance, and everyone got to sit on his lap and receive a present.
“Do I have to have my picture taken with Santa this year?” Jordan demanded as Wayne parked their SUV in front of the house.
“Of course you do,” Toni said. “We all do.”
“Dumb,” Jordan muttered.
“If you want a present you’ll have to be dumb,” Toni said.
“The present’ll probably be dumb, too.”
She hadn’t complained about last year’s present—the world’s largest collection of lip gloss. And Toni knew for a fact that this year Aunt Jana had gotten Jordan an iTunes gift card. “If you’re going to be a party pooper, then I’ll sit on Santa’s lap and take your present. I know what it is.”
That worked. “I’ll do it,” her daughter said, but she managed to sound grudging all the same.
Toni hid her smile. It was never good to gloat when you won a victory over a child, especially one who was now officially a teenager.
“Me, too,” said Jeffrey, who wasn’t above a little humiliation if there was a present waiting at the end of it.
As always, her mother’s house said Christmas, with icicle lights hanging from the roofline and a wreath on the door. Toni could hear raucous laughter and Christmas music even before they let themselves in.
They hung their coats in the hall closet and then went into the living room where Toni’s uncle Dennis was saying, “No, I swear it’s true.”
That explained the laughter. Her uncle had told some preposterous story. At the sight of her and her family, he broke into a grin. “Well, look who’s here.” He demanded hugs from both kids, told Jordan she was getting way too pretty and then enveloped Toni in a big bear hug. Uncle Dennis was a large man and his hugs were almost suffocating, but, next to her father’s, they were the best.
“Guess you got stuck with us again this year,” he greeted her husband.
“Afraid so,” Wayne said with a smile, shaking her uncle’s hand.
“Hello, princess,” her father greeted her. He kissed her forehead and took in her slacks, black sweater and jauntily draped red scarf. “You’re looking lovely today.”
“Thanks, Daddy,” she said. Nice someone noticed. Wayne sure hadn’t. He’d been too busy being one with his computer.
Okay, she told herself, so what if Wayne didn’t notice your outfit? Big deal. He’s still a good man who works hard to provide for his family. The computer is not your competition.
Although sometimes she felt as if it were. Even when he wasn’t working, he was on it half the evening, surfing the web. He always had energy for the computer, but when his wife wanted to go out...
Oh, there she went again. It wasn’t Wayne’s fault he’d gotten sick the day they were supposed to have their romantic dinner. She’d come home from her Icicle Falls adventure to find he’d taken some cold medicine and gone to bed.
And fallen asleep with his arms around his iPad. Sheesh.
Stop it, she scolded herself. It’s Christmas. Don’t be a bitch.
She deposited her gifts under the tree and went to the kitchen to check in with her mother. Her aunt Karen, resplendent in a Christmas sweater with dancing polar bears, gave her a kiss in passing