Chapter 20

“Wait until you see it lit up.” My smile didn’t come easy. “Feel like decorating the tree?” I stepped back inside where it was warm. Both cats were right there, Pocket and Leo, the one I’d gotten the summer of the stick. He was eighteen now.

“I was waiting for you,” my mother said.

We did it together. Mom hummed along to Bing Crosby and Burl Ives as we strung lights and hung mostly unbreakable ornaments. When “Hark the Herald Angels Sing” came on, she sang full out. Thanks to my grandparents, most likely, the Christmas music in our home was always old-school.

“And now for the finishing touch.” I reached up to put on the topper.

“What ever happened to that boy you always liked so much? Angel…right?” My mother’s words sent me back in time again.

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