The Christmas Cookie Wars by Eliza Evans

Author:Eliza Evans [Evans, Eliza]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2024-10-22T00:00:00+00:00

Twelve

Melody lined up the teacher gift cards on the kitchen table—each one neatly wrapped with a scarf she’d selected from the boutique and secured with red and silver foil ribbon.

And then there was the mixing bowl.

She’d wrapped that too—in festive red and green paper. You could still tell it was a bowl though, so it wouldn’t be some big surprise when Jonathan opened it. When would he open it? At school? In his office? Would everyone know she’d given it to him? The gift had seemed like a good idea at the time, but would it make her feelings for him too obvious?

She slumped into a chair at the table. Oh, how quickly she’d forgotten the complications that romantic feelings could introduce into daily life—the wondering, the analyzing, the questioning.

“Hey, Mom.” Tate bounded down the stairs and went straight for the breakfast sandwich she’d made him.

“Good morning, sweets.” She assessed his outfit with a wince. Track pants and a Marvel sweatshirt? He’d clearly missed the memo for his big fifth-grade choir concert after their holiday party today.

“Why aren’t you dressed?” One by one, she picked up the gifts and put them in the box she had waiting. “Come on, Tate. We’re going to be late for school.”

“I am dressed.” Her cherubic son shoved half of the egg sandwich into his mouth. Like her, he was definitely not a morning person, and normally she could let his choice in apparel slide, but not today.

“You can’t wear that outfit for the holiday concert.” She poured him some orange juice to soften the blow. “There’s a dress code. Remember? Your shirt has to have buttons on it.” She’d gotten a text from his teacher to remind her. In her parenting philosophy, her kids should have autonomy when it came to getting dressed—they were the ones who had to take ownership of their own appearance, after all. But today her hands were tied.

“I don’t see why we’ve gotta dress up to sing some songs,” Tate mumbled with a full mouth.

“Because all of the loving parents and grandparents and aunts and uncles will be taking pictures of you and your classmates singing those songs.” She kept her voice light and sweet, even while she had one eye on the clock. “That’s why I brought you that awesome outfit from the boutique.”

“The shirt’s itchy.” He downed the juice.

“So wear a shirt under it.” She knew for a fact that the shirt was a pima cotton blend, but she didn’t argue. “Go back upstairs and change, please. Pronto.”

Little did Tate know that when he looked at her with such a grumpy furrow in his forehead he reminded her exactly of his sweet four-year-old self. If only she could hug him to her and smooch his cheeks to make him giggle the way she used to.

“I don’t even like singing.” He did, however, enjoy stomping out of a room.

“Thanks, honey,” she called as he disappeared.

And now, back to the mixing bowl.

Maybe it didn’t have to be a big deal.

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