Kissmas Wishes (Love In All Seasons 3)

I nod, knowing she’s full of it. But the thing that gives me pause is the fact that I’ve never once heard Maple tell a lie. It makes me wonder what she has to be hiding now.

“Right. Those snow allergies. They can be a bitch this time of year.” I frown, cocking an eye at her, seeing if she’ll give.

She cringes, realizing I know she’s full of it. “The thing is, Filson, I know you don’t like me, but I have to ask.”

I pull back. She has it all wrong. She thinks I don’t like her when my feelings are so much more than that. Always have been. Always will be.

“Just ask, Maple,” I say, not knowing how to tell her I’d do anything in the world she needs. My heart buoys at the thought of Maple finally seeing me as more than a boy from the wrong side of town. That maybe she finally sees me as a man.

She looks at me with pleading eyes, a look I’ve been longing to see all my life. “Filson,” she says, “I need your help.”MapleI have thirty days.

Thirty days until I lose it all.

The house. The soup kitchen. The respect of everyone in Snowy Valley.

My whole life up in flames in one fell swoop.

Except this isn’t all at once.

It’s been coming longer than I want to admit. A letter a month, since Granny died. And who knows how many she received in the months before she passed. The bank’s looming words of foreclosure should have moved me to action… but it was all too little too late.

And now I have one last chance. But I can’t do it alone.

There’s only one person I felt brave enough to ask. Filson may not like me, but he loved my granny.

I’m hoping he will do this for her.

Filson, with his pine green eyes and thick brown hair, his big hands, and broad shoulders. Filson, the boy who was my first crush, my first heartbreak.

Of course, that was a one-way street. He never cried himself to sleep over me, I was the one he rejected.

“What do you need, Maple?” he asks, his voice gravelly with concern. He’s always been so withdrawn, so hard to read, but right now I think I see emotion in his eyes for the first time since we were little.

“Don’t feel like you have to say yes, I know we aren’t really friends… or haven’t been in a long time.”

He pulls back at that, takes a drink of his tea. “Right. I don’t exactly do friends.”

“I know,” I say, regretting my word choice. Filson has always been so finicky, so hard to please. And now it’s no different. I feel like I’m going to put my foot in my mouth no matter what I say. “The thing is, Filson, I was wondering… if you could help with fixing up the house. For Granny.”

He nods slowly. “I see. This isn’t for you, it’s for Granny Charlene?”

“Yeah, it’s just cosmetic things. Paint on the porch and fixing the closet doors. The fan in the kitchen isn’t working—”

“You want to hire me as a handyman?” His voice is flat and my stomach falls. Coming here was such a stupid idea. Annabelle was right. Filson is too moody to be helpful. Her words, not mine.

But if she hadn’t called this morning, I wouldn’t be here now.

My phone had buzzed while I was making toast, and for a moment I’d let my mind play make-believe. Maybe it was the bank. Maybe they were calling to say they got it all wrong. That I don’t have to face foreclosure at Christmas.

When I grabbed it, I saw it was the bank. I answered the call, my voice rattling. “Hello, this is Maple.”

“Oh, hey, sweetie. Hanging in there?” Annabelle asked.

I sighed loudly, my disappointment turning palpable. “I was hoping you were the bank calling with good news.”

My best friend, who is a loan officer at said bank, laughed, “It is the bank and it is good news.”

“How good?” I asked.

“Better than you thought. The bank is giving you until January 1 to try and sell the house. If you can, you can avoid foreclosure. You could sell the house, pay off the bank with the profits, and still have a nest egg for yourself for whatever you want to do next.”

I sunk to the kitchen floor.

“Maple, are you there?” Annabelle asked.

Sniffling, I moan a replied, “Sort of.”

“Are you on the floor?”

I looked around, wondering how on Earth she knew that. But Annabelle has been my best friend since junior high. She knows me better than most people.

“Honey, you need to be smart right now,” she said. “You need to get a realtor and put the house on the market. Do a quick make-over on the house, throw up some Christmas lights, and sell it. This is so much better than a foreclosure. Better than losing it all without anything to fall back on.”