A Very Grey Christmas (Kissing Eden, #3)

Both sets of my grandparents usually came for Christmas lunch, but neither stayed the night since they were within an hour’s drive. They liked to get back on the road before it got dark. I’d ask Mom when I saw her.

“Dad, can you give me a second? I want to try to call Grey again.”

“Ok.”

I dialed his number again, but it went straight to voicemail. I didn’t understand. We had only talked for thirty seconds this morning, and I was certain he said he’d call me back. If I didn’t hear from him after caroling, I’d enlist Marin and Pick’s help to check on him.

I shrugged my shoulders. “No luck.”

“I’m sure he’ll call soon. Let’s go. I’ve been working on my Let it Snow rendition for this year.” Dad shuttled me out the door and across the lawn to the Greens’ driveway.

I couldn’t believe the snow hadn’t started yet, but the air felt thick and heavy as if flakes would start descending on us at any second.

“Eden!” Charlene Green ran over and pulled me into a hug. “How’s Texas?”

I smiled. “Hotter than this.”

“We’re so glad you’re back home. Where’s this boyfriend of yours though? We need to meet the guy who is responsible for you being so far away.” She waggled her finger at me.

“Grey had to work, Mrs. Green. I hope you get to meet him soon.” I realized how shady this sounded. It was as if I had made him up. Grey was like an imaginary friend and I was the only one who knew of his existence.

“Well, well, well. Look who’s home for Christmas.” My parents across-the-street neighbor, Alex Turnwell, beamed.

“Hi, Mr. Turnwell. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas to you. I’ll have to tell Peg you’re home. She’s going to want a visit while you’re here.”

“Absolutely. I’ll stop by and see her tomorrow if that’s ok.” Peg Turnwell had been on the upswing of a long battle with cancer. My mom kept me posted with her health updates. When I was a little girl, she used to make dresses for my dolls. The Turnwells never had children of their own, and I always thought of them as adopted grandparents.

“Looks like we’re all here. I think we should start at the cul-de-sac and work our way up and down the side streets,” Charlene Green shouted over the crowd.

“You mean like we do every year?” The comment came from the neighbor wise-cracking know-it-all, Bertie Spence. I wasn’t sure why she attended events when she was obviously annoyed with all of us.

Mrs. Green ignored the comment and led us to the edge of the driveway where she passed a lit candle along with a box of tall pillar candles. We learned long ago, the tapered ones dripped wax all over our hands even with those little stoppers, but the thick pillars lasted all night.

My dad draped an arm over my shoulder. “Ready for Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer?”

I nodded. “Sure am.”

I didn’t care that we did the same song order every year, or that we followed the same street route, or even that bitter Bertie joined us when we all knew she’d rather be at home watching Jeopardy. If I had to be away from Grey, at least I was somewhere where I was truly loved and appreciated.





My feet hurt after walking all of the neighborhood streets in my boots. I didn’t wear them nearly enough. I pulled on my heels and tossed them next to my suitcase. I heard the hall linen closet open and peeked my head out the door.

“Mom, what’s going on? Why are you taking ten towels out of there?”

She looked like I had caught her stealing a bag of diamonds.

“These? I’m just-just clearing out a few things.” She hurried down the hall. She was definitely up to something.

My throat felt dry after all the singing. My dad was always trying to get me to join him for a hot toddy. This felt like the perfect time. I walked to the kitchen to start a hot pot of water for some tea and rummaged through my dad’s liquor cabinet.

I looked out of the kitchen window and saw my mom in the guesthouse. There was a Christmas tree in there. The white lights glittered through the main window. As soon as the teapot whistled, I poured the steaming water in a mug and doused it with bourbon. This would be the perfect ending to a chilly night outside.

Five minutes later, Mom walked through the deck door, brushing off the first traces of snow from her shoulders and arms. “Oh, hi, honey. I didn’t see you there.”

“Hi. What’s going on in the guesthouse? Who’s the company?” I tasted the tea—it had just the right amount of bourbon. I could feel it warming my limbs already.

“Guests? Did you see the snow started? It’s beautiful.”

“Mom, what is going on?”

I had never seen her so jumpy. She almost dropped her phone when it dinged from a text message.

“Actually, would you mind helping me out there?” She reached behind me and grabbed a bottle of red wine from the rack. “I need this out there and I didn’t have enough arms when I took the towels.”

T.A. Foster's books