Chapter One
Romy
No victory has ever tasted as sweet as proving those who mocked and doubted me wrong. I stomp on the cardboard box and relish the crunch under my rubber sole. The pink pom-poms on my slippers swing violently. Exhaling, I stretch my arms above my head. The last box has been unpacked, arranged, and now broken down. When the universe decided to give, she was not stingy about it. All my visualization, mediation, and hard work has paid off in spades.
After picking up the flat box, I place it next to the back door to later carry out to the recycling bin. Turning to look through my bungalow, I admire the open layout. Mine. The word is my greatest wish realized—a home of my own and enough money to live comfortably. Moving from Indianapolis to this small town in Vermont was a huge change. The job I interviewed for turned out to be an opportunity I couldn’t pass up. The smaller physical therapy practice offered a sign-on bonus, bomb benefits, and a more relaxed environment than the hospital. I loved my patients at the hospital, but there are times when cash has to be king. Working as an occupational therapy assistant pays well. I should’ve been further in life than I am now, but debt takes time to climb out from under. This year, I’m back on top.
I sink onto the dark gray suede couch and admire the matching wingback chair and white crochet stools. I’ve managed to create a welcome living space I look forward to coming home to each day. Leaning forward, I light the pine-scented candle on my custom Millennium Falcon coffee table. The crisp, spicy scent mingles with the cinnamon-coated pinecones in the bowl on my black buffet table.
A strip of burlap, hand-stamped with Star Wars Tie fighters, contrasts with the dark color and makes the Kylo Ren lamp stand out. The Sith Lord greets me as I enter and wishes me farewell when I leave. Here, I’m allowed to let my interests and style shine. There will be no more cramped living spaces with multiple roommates forcing me to keep a dull beige and white color palette. I’ve used the week I have off for the holidays to put the finishing touches on my home. Now I’m out of busy work and fighting loneliness. As an only child, Christmas was the one time I made it home no matter what I had going on. Breaking that tradition hurts. The lack of decorations reflects that.
Snowflake window clings, seasonal candles, and a row of white lights in my front window are the only bit of cheer that has invaded my house so far. A month ago, I didn’t have time to get into the spirit. The bags under my eyes required so much concealer I considered buying stock. The baristas at the local shop now know me by heart. I caught up on my rest, but the overindulgence in pastries is still lingering around my hips and waist. This is why walking around to purchase decorations is a winning plan. My phone dances on the coffee table. Mom flashes on the view screen.
“Mom, I was just thinking about you.”
“I’m missing my Romy. How’s your day going?”
“Good. I’m enjoying the week of vacation Dr. Carver gave us all. I’m already seeing the perks of working for a private practice.”
“You were working too much in the past couple of years.” She clucks her tongue.
I had to work that way to keep the debt collectors at bay. Ashamed, I never told her about the depth of Trent’s betrayal. Running up my credit cards, buying things we didn’t need, and hiding the bills, he left me drowning in the debt while he moved on with another woman.
“I’m turning over a new leaf with this move.” This year I’m releasing the negative things I’ve carried with me and cutting the cord with the disastrous heartbreak that turned me off serious dating.
“I’m proud of you, honey. You’ve worked hard for this. I want to see you enjoy it.” She sighs, and I sense the guilt. “You took on more responsibility than you should’ve when you were younger. It’s one of my biggest regrets.”
“You taught me how to survive and care for myself. I’m grateful for that. I never felt lost when I was out on my own because of it.” Mom worked ridiculous hours to not only take care of me but to give me the best she could. Private school wasn’t cheap, and she did it all on her own. Being aware of how much things costs and living on a tiny budget opened my eyes to the importance of putting fun on the back burner.
“Yes, but you should’ve had more time to just be a kid.”
“I thought I might go buy some real decorations since I can keep them to use every year,” I say, eager to lighten the conversation. I admire my mother for everything she’s done for me and accomplished on her own.
“Promise me you’ll do that today.”
“I will. As a matter of fact, I’ll fire up my computer and find a shop near me now.”
“Pictures, or it didn’t happen,” Mom teases.
“Of course. Who do you think you raised? What’s going on your way?”
Settling back into the couch, I soak in the maternal love pouring over the phone line as we catch up. An hour and a bit of gossip later, I’m blowing out the candles, then exchanging my slippers for knee-high, black boots, a heather gray cowl, and gloves. The thigh-length wool coat is the thickest coat I’ve ever possessed. Winter here in the mountains is a far cry from those in Indiana. The chill slices through clothing and sinks into the bone. Stepping outside, I shiver as a cloud forms from my breath. fifteen inches of snow turns the street into a painting.
Wading through the powdery fluff, I make a mental note to resalt the driveway in the morning as snowf
lakes continue to drift down to the ground.
THE STORE BITS AND Baubles is lit up like a lighthouse as I turn into the strip mall. The large window is outlined in giant, colorful bulbs that draw my attention to the name stenciled across the top in white. The scene inside has me ready to press my nose to the glass. A mechanical Santa climbs a ladder that rests alongside an eight-foot spruce pine tree dusted with fake snow. Brilliant crimson and gold ornaments line the branches beside homey, handmade-style ornaments. Gold ribbons cascade down the tree like a shimmering waterfall. A beautiful angel with rosy cheeks, wheat-colored curls, and a tiny, pink, cupid bow lips holds a glowing candle. Her flowing white gown completes the stunning glass masterpiece.
Pushing open the door, I step inside. The smell of cookies floats in the air as bells jingle above my head. My Christmas spirit soars upward like an eagle. Trees of all shapes, types, and themes fill the store space. Between the tinsel, and pops of color from the bulbs and ornaments, it’s a feast for the eyes. Angel toppers compete to be fairest of them all among crystal stars and decorative metal pieces. It’s like I’ve entered an alternative universe. I wouldn’t be shocked if Mr. Tumnis stepped out from one of the towering trees.
A petite woman, with chocolate brown hair streaked with gray pulled up into a high bun, approaches. Dressed in a red sweater and a green apron full of Christmas pins, she could be a modern-day Mrs. Claus. I’m charmed.
“Welcome to Bits and Baubles. I’m the owner, Natalie.” She holds out her hand, and I shake it.
“Hi, Natalie. I’m Romy.”
“What brings you in today?” She tucks her hands in the front of her apron.
“I just bought my first home, and I’m looking to decorate my place, so I’ll be stocking up.”
“How exciting.” Her brown eyes sparkle behind round, gold wire-rimmed frames. “Congratulations on the home.”
“Thank you. I’m excited about it.”
“Do you have a theme in mind?”
“For the first time, no. I usually think up a theme each year. Today, I thought I’d browse and see what calls to me.”
“Well, if there’s anything I can do to help you, please let me know. We have baskets by the registers, but don’t feel like you have to carry all your choices around. We’ll get you started with a collection upfront, and you can leave them as you shop, and we’ll wrap them up and set the tags aside.” She rests a tiny hand on my upper arm. “Take your time. We have cookies and coffee in the back if you’d like a snack. I bake them myself. You know Christmas calories don’t count.” She winks and moves on to greet another customer.
Moving toward the back, I eye the intricate glass-blown tree toppers. The three-tier cylindrical forms end in a long spike. The white one coated in glitter reminds me of my childhood before my father left when we’d assembled the ancient tree that was passed down from generation to generation. Every vintage ornament had a memory and a meaning. It felt like visiting with the ancestors every time we put it together. The old technology had been a puzzle piece. The wooden rods screwed together and had slots marked with different colors. The colors coordinated with the pipe brush end of the branches coated in the same shades. I’d cried when we had to throw it away. It felt like the final nail in the coffin that held the hope that Dad would come back.