“I’ll fill your freezer,” Harriet promised, topping up her soup. “When are they sending you out?”
“Tomorrow if I get my way.” Susan finished the soup and sat back.
“Do you like chocolate chip cookies?”
“What sort of a question is that? Who the hell doesn’t like chocolate chip cookies?”
Harriet grinned and handed over a small box tied with a bow. “They’re my specialty.”
Susan took a bite and closed her eyes. “Man, how are you ever single?”
“I ask myself that question regularly but haven’t yet come up with an answer.”
“Obviously all the men in your life are batshit crazy. You ever make those fancy cupcake things? Covered in swirly icing that’s basically all sugar and calories?”
“I make great cupcakes. I’ll add a batch to the list of things I’m leaving in your apartment.”
“I’ve got a better idea—” Susan brushed crumbs from her mouth “—come and live, then you can cook for me on-site. You are too good at this to be living alone.”
Harriet put the empty soup container back in her bag. An idea had been growing in her mind. “What are you doing for Christmas?”
Susan slumped back against the pillows. “I was working, but now I guess I’m not. Damn. And I wanted to be at work. This place is one big party over the holidays. I hate to miss it.” Her tone was sarcastic, but Harriet knew she was speaking the truth. She would rather have been at work, presumably because being at work stopped her thinking about family. The family she’d lost. It must be the worst time of year for her.
“Will you join me? I’m having a few people over.”
“I appreciate the offer, but it’s not my best time of year.” Susan’s voice was rough. “Ethan told you my sad tale?”
“Yes. And I’m so sorry.” The words felt woefully inadequate, but what was the right thing to say to someone who had lost everything that mattered to them? There were no right words.
“I appreciate the invitation, but I’m not good company.”
“You don’t have to sing and dance. Come and sit on the sofa and let me feed you.”
Susan eyed her. “Christmas is family time. Why aren’t you going home to spend it with your mom and dad?”
“They divorced years ago. My mom is traveling and my dad—we’re not in touch.” She was surprised by how easily she said it. “He doesn’t speak to me. I’m close to my sister and brother, but this year I decided I wanted to spend Christmas by myself.” She paused and then on impulse told Susan about Challenge Harriet, starting from the beginning and not stopping until she’d reached the end.
“So you’re doing something you find hard every day? Jeez, that’s—” Susan stared at her and Harriet shrugged.
“Stupid?”
“I was going to say inspirational. Maybe I will join you. Not staying in bed on Christmas Day could be my first Challenge Susan.”
“If you have other friends you’d rather go to, don’t worry,” Harriet said quickly, “don’t feel pressure.”
“Most of my friends gave up on me a long time ago. My fault, not theirs. Work was my therapy. I didn’t want sympathy or pitying glances. Eventually they gave up.”
What sort of person gave up on a friend who’d suffered such an extreme blow? “In that case, I hope you’ll come to me.”
Susan stared at her for a moment and then grinned. “Hey, I’m going to be godmother to your children. That makes me as good as family, so maybe I will.”
Harriet gave a start, remembering what Ethan had said. “Godmother?”
“Sure. He made me a deathbed promise.”
“You’re alive.”
“Barely. I’d love to spend Christmas with you. All I need is your address. And I’ll wear my loose trousers because if you’re going to cook like this I’m going to need room for expansion.”