Season's Greetings : Christmas Box Set

“No.”

Mom’s jaw drops, and Dad’s eyebrows nearly form a unibrow.

“No?” Mom asks softly.

“I won’t use Kit like that.”

“It’s okay, Sam.” She smiles. “I really don’t mind. Being seen out with you and making it in the papers for something with a positive spin is better than the speculation they usually do. You’ve got the whole dark and mysterious vibe going.” Like me, she’s often roped into things by her father.

“I do mind. If you want me to have a date, I’ll choose my own.”

My mother blinks. “Are you seeing someone now?”

“Yes.”

Dad coughs, spluttering as he chokes on his wine. Uncle Landon thumps him on the back. “Since when?” he wheezes.

“Today. I have a date tonight at eight. So, we should begin eating soon. I do not plan on being late.”

“Who is this woman?” Mom asks softly.

“Her name is Delta Elliot. We met at the airport yesterday.”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Dad says, laughing.

“Harrison,” Mom snaps.

“She’s very nice, and she knows I’m an Aspie,” I admit. When I don’t like things, I can avoid them. I didn’t do that this time.

“Is she also on the spectrum?” Uncle Landon asks.

“I don’t think so.”

“You know, Sam, most people don’t understand what having Asperger’s really means,” Dad says softly.

“She does. I’m pretty sure someone in her family has it.”

“And you’re sure this is a date?” Mom leans onto the counter.

“I’m pretty sure. We agreed to meet at Peddler’s at eight after she asked me when we’d see each other again. I told her I had dinner here, but it wouldn’t last all night.”

“Tell us more about Delta,” Mom prompts.

I recognize the shrewd look in her eyes. She’s going to dig into things she shouldn’t. I clench my jaw and shake my head.

“Let him have a little privacy, Kath. He’s a big boy. He can handle himself.” For once, my fathers on my side. The role reversal is strange but nice.

Mom flicks her gaze toward him. “Remember what happened last time?” she whispers.

“Why don’t we take a walk and catch up?” Uncle Landon asks. He’s used to being the buffer when my parents argue, more often than not about me. “Are you coming, Kit?”

“Yes, sir. Maybe we’ll see some deer.”

Mom’s words bring up a bitter memory. Am I misreading things again? The doubt creeps in like a fog. My brain kicks into hyperdrive, examining all my interactions with Delta. My memory can be a gift. When it comes to chasing trends for work, I appreciate it. The same skill tortures me when I can’t turn it off. I struggle to focus on my Uncle’s stories as I dress for the cold.

I RECHECK MY WATCH as I walk through the village. The shops are closed, but we’re here to look at the lights. There’s something special about walking through the million-light display on Christmas Day. My eyes scan the people milling around, looking for the familiar face. My stomach tightens. What if she doesn’t show up? Am I naïve believing her? My mom’s words echo in my ears. “Are you sure it’s a date?” She kissed me, and she wanted to do it again. That’s not a thing just friends do.

“Sam.”