Holiday Kisses

“Eat your burger. Burgers make everything better.” Christina waved hers and took a big bite, staring around the table until everyone followed suit.

“You could smuggle your own shampoo into the bathroom.” Macy pressed a hand to the center of Winter’s back and ran it in small circles, her expression one of extreme concern. “Before I got to know you so well, I was pretty sure you were too cool to notice my existence. A lot of that had to do with how amazing your hair was. Sleek. Shiny. Every day. Like magic.”

It took Winter a second to realize they’d returned to her shampoo challenges, and the good hair was in the past tense. She understood the impulse. On the list of problems she had, it should be the easiest to solve.

Winter’s whole life had fallen apart, and Macy was ready to cry over her hair. That was how well her mother’s shampoo was working. Every time Winter stared in the mirror now, she was reminded that life had taken a fuzzy, out-of-control detour.

“I could, but it’s pretty clear when I use my own stuff. The fact that I can run a brush through it gives me away. The lectures you get for bringing plastic bottles into my mother’s house, and on the expense of salon shampoos, and the devastating research some companies perform on animals, although not mine, because I did my own research and paid twice what I needed so I could use it with a clear conscience but whatever, Mother... All that together?” Winter snatched the butterfly clip holding her bangs back out of her hair. “Nobody has time for that every day, not even the unemployed.”

Clearly, her new friends were not quite certain how to react, but their small smiles and twitching lips were another reason to laugh.

And that felt good.

“I never appreciated the small things before,” Winter said, “but the small things have gotten much, much larger lately.” The tiny pinch of the butterfly clip she’d stolen from her mother’s stuff was easy to focus on.

“Any idea how long you’ll be staying with Mom and Dad?” Macy asked. “Ash has room in his cabin and there’s a couch in my living room. The space isn’t much, but you’re welcome to it. And there’s no way I’ll lecture you about your shampoo.” Macy lowered her voice, and added, “Unless you won’t let me use it, too.”

Christina elbowed her in the side affectionately.

“What? She has good stuff. Her hair was legendary.” Macy held both arms out to the ladies as if to say no one in town would blame her. “Before all this, I could hardly talk to Winter because she was so...together.”

Before. Macy didn’t have to explain before what.

That was something else everyone at the table knew.

Before the governor had read the environmental-impact report of the new lodge being planned for the Smoky Valley Nature Reserve and decided to attack his political opponent, Whit Callaway, Jr., over the damage to Tennessee’s resources and history.

Before the lodge, which the Callaways were pushing through on the land they owned but held in reserve for citizens and voters in Tennessee, stalled and they turned on the head ranger, her brother, Ash.

Before Whit had threatened her brother and led Winter to end their engagement and showed his true colors.

Before she’d begged Caleb Callaway, Whit’s brother, to fix everything, except her job and her engagement.

Winter had had it all together before that.

Begging was not an option for Winter Kingfisher, but she’d done it for the reserve and her brother, and a chance to keep the life she’d set up.

She’d been the public outreach officer for the reserve. She’d been juggling Whit’s campaign with one hand and a society wedding with the other.

Now her hair was a mess, although it had nothing on the rest of her life.

“This is temporary.” Winter had repeated the same words to herself so many times she was beginning to wonder if they had lost all meaning. “First, I find a job. Since both the reserve and politics seem to be out of the question...” This was where she stalled time and again. “I’m open to suggestions.”

“I have all the time in the world for you at the library. Unpaid volunteering doesn’t help with the money, but the kids love your story times. You would not believe how many crayon drawings of Rabbit tricking Possum I’ve seen since you told that story two months ago. It’s like you have some special connection to them.” Astrid narrowed her eyes. “Have you ever considered teaching?”