Gayle
Gayle stood in the middle of the toy store, overwhelmed by a sudden attack of dizziness. The doctor had said such moments were to be expected, and that full recovery would take time.
So frustrating, although on the positive side her accident had given her the excuse she needed to cancel her book tour. The promotion for Brave New You would take place without her, which was a relief because right now she wasn’t feeling at all brave.
What made you write this book, Ms. Mitchell?
Hubris.
Perhaps it had been foolish to leave the apartment so soon after her discharge from the hospital. But her apartment had little in it to entertain a child, and she’d felt an urgent need to change that.
She had a granddaughter.
A granddaughter!
She was a grandmother.
It was an unexpected gift, and she knew, without any doubt, that the way she handled this situation was key to any future relationship she had with her daughters. She wasn’t going to show that she was hurt that Ella hadn’t told her, although she was hurt. She wasn’t going to question why she hadn’t been told, why she hadn’t been invited to the wedding, why they had never apologized for the things they’d said to her on that horrible day. Accusations would bring that door crashing closed again, with her on one side and her daughters on the other. She wanted the door kept open. She wanted to step through it and move forward, and if that meant leaving the past behind then that was what she’d do. She didn’t have to be right. She had to be forgiving. Accepting. She could do it.
Brave New You.
She’d written about change for other people. Surely she could do it for herself?
It would be hard, but she’d dealt with harder. And the knowledge that she had a granddaughter made her all the more determined.
“Gingerbread cookie?” A store assistant dressed as an elf hovered in front of her, holding a tray heaped with gingerbread men.
The scent of warm gingerbread took her right back to her childhood, and for a moment she felt as if she was right there, standing side by side with her mother.
Can I have one, Mommy?
Of course you can. The best girl in the world deserves a treat.
The memory ripped at her insides, leaving her torn and vulnerable.
She never thought about that time. Being in this place, where her mother had once brought her, opened wounds she’d thought were long since healed.
“Thank you, no.” She forced the words through stiff lips. “I’m not hungry.”
But still she could imagine the flavor. The sugary sweetness. The melting softness of the gingerbread as she bit into it. Her mother laughing as she brushed sugar from her lips and pulled Gayle into a tight hug.
Gayle swayed a little, rocked by a past long forgotten. She made a point of always looking forward, but right now the world was conspiring to make her look back.
“Are you feeling okay?” The young woman frowned at her. “You look a bit pale. Is it the crowds? I can’t believe the number of people who descend on New York for the holidays, can you? Total crush out there.”
“There are a lot of people.” To distract herself, Gayle focused on the woman in front of her. An elf? Utterly ridiculous. On the other hand she looked as if she might have exactly the expertise that Gayle needed to handle her current situation.
“No to gingerbread, thank you. But I’d appreciate help. I need to buy—” What did she need to buy? She had no idea. “Things.”
“Things?”
“For Christmas.” A small group of children barreled past her, thoroughly overexcited, and Gayle moved to one side. The air was filled with the scent of cinnamon and the sound of piped Christmas music. She was surrounded by a swirl of color and activity—rotating mobiles, brightly lit snowflakes hanging from the roof, a shop assistant demonstrating a paper plane, a keyboard playing with no human assistance. It was an assault on Gayle’s senses and oversensitive head. “For the holidays.”
She held on to the nearest shelf for support. This was a bad idea. She shoul
d have done an online shop and trusted her instincts.
But when it came to celebrating the holidays, she had no instincts.