Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78357 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78357 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
“Sure.”
“Did you have Christmas when you were a kid?”
Her laughter surprises me, and I glance at her quickly. “Have you met my mother?”
“Right, I should have known that was a stupid question.” Her house growing up was one I remember driving by in my parents’ old beat-up minivan, because it was decorated to perfection every single year. Hell, every house on her block was professionally decorated, so it was always an event going to see the lights. “I’m just trying to figure out why you’re doing this.”
“I didn’t grow up counting down the days to tonight like most kids do. There was nothing special about December 25th. My family always had a tree and decorations. There was always a huge feast and quiet stories read by the fire. But Christmas was just another day. There was nothing special about it. I never went without. I always had more than I needed, so gifts were no big deal.” She shrugs, looking a bit sheepish. “Being young, I didn’t know I was taking it all for granted, but now that I’m older, I see that not everyone has it as good as I do. A lot of families struggle, not just around the holidays but every day. And it makes me feel sick when I think about all the money I’ve wasted over the years because I could. I guess in a way I want to give back, but I don’t want to do it for recognition. I want to do it, because it makes me feel good. It makes me feel like I’m making a difference, even if it’s a small one.”
“I don’t think you were taking it for granted, Milly. I think you were just a kid, and you didn’t know any different.”
“You say that now, but I know people in town dislike me. I see the looks and hear the whispers. Everyone thinks I’m a stuck-up rich girl who has never had to work for anything and is given everything.” I listen to her let out a breath. “They don’t know they’re wrong. Yes, my parents spoil me, but they’ve also in their way taught me the value of a dollar. I’ve had to work to get where I am. People don’t know my dad only gave me enough to pay for school, but I had to pay for my books, food, and apartment by working two jobs while I was in college. When I graduated, I moved home and lived with my parents so I could save up money for a house, and only when I had enough for a down payment did I move out on my own. Even my car is something I’ve paid for on my own, without the help of anyone.”
“You work for your dad,” I tell her, something she already knows.
“Yeah, and I make what anyone else in my position would make and not a dollar more. I’m sure one day when my dad is ready to retire, he will leave the bank to me and my brothers, but that won’t happen for a long, long time. And honestly, I don’t want the stress of owning a business. I’d rather just keep doing what I’m doing. I might not have millions or even hundreds of thousands of dollars to my name, but I can afford my mortgage, my car payment, and bills along with a yearly two-week-long trip to the beach.”
Thinking of her on the beach in a bikini is enough to have me shifting in my seat. “What’s your favorite beach to go to?”
“What?” she asks, moving her hand out from underneath mine and placing her fingers in front of the vents blowing warm air.
Turning up the heat, I ask, “What is your favorite beach to visit for two weeks?”
“I don’t have a favorite. I just want sun and sand while the snow is still falling here.”
“When’s your next trip?”
“I leave three days after New Year’s.” I hear the smile in her voice. “I’m going to Jamaica, where I’ve rented a villa on the water and plan to do nothing all day but drink virgin daiquiris and soak up the sun.”
“You’re not taking anyone with you?” I question. I know I’ve never seen her with a man, but that doesn’t mean much.
“No, all my friends are settled down with husbands and kids, so I’m going alone.”
“Is that safe?” I ask, not liking the idea of her being in a foreign country on her own.
“I travel alone all the time.” She waves me off like my question is ridiculous, then sits up a little taller. “There are three houses in this neighborhood we will be hitting tonight, so you can park anywhere around here.”
“Was that a Home Alone reference?” I ask, and the sound of her laughter fills the cab.
“I don’t think so, but it does make it sound like we’re robbing people instead of spreading Christmas joy.” She opens her door and hops out once I park. Again, we go through the whole routine, decorating each tree and putting them in place along with gifts and bags of food. When we get back in my truck, we head to the next house, and then the next, working together in sync until we finish with the last house on the list.