Holiday Ever After by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub

Chapter 2

Maggie

There’s only one way out of this.

I need a lie.

A good one. And fast.

I’ll explain that I was just kidding, or that I’m suffering from asbestos poisoning from my new house, or that someone stole my phone and is prank texting my frenemies for fun.

My fingers move across the keys, making it up as I go along, but Stephanie beats me to the punch.

Wow. Really? Well, that’s a surprise, she texts. I look forward to meeting this guy. I didn’t realize men in Manhattan were dating single mothers. Maybe there’s hope for my sister, after all. She’s in great shape and has an incredible career.

Inferring, of course, that I am not in great shape and do not have an incredible career.

“Oh, shut up, Stephanie,” I growl before shutting off my phone with a firm click of my thumb and stuffing it in my coat pocket. It’s the only way to keep from saying something I’ll regret.

Or something else I’ll regret.

Though something I’ll regret more than making up a fantasy boyfriend I won’t be able to deliver by seven p.m. tonight is hard to imagine right now.

Poo on a peppermint stick. Could this day get any worse?

“All right, Maggie.” I take a deep breath, swiping the tears from my cheeks. “Time to think. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders. You can figure this out.”

The pyramid of expired canned goods in the breakfast nook shoots me the hairy eyeball, issuing a challenge I refuse to take seriously. I do have a good head on my shoulders, and I excel at troubleshooting. It’s one of the things that makes me great at my job.

I also have an extensive list of contacts and connections.

Growing up in New York’s high society and attending an Ivy League school, I did enough networking before college graduation to make up for the fact that I spent the rest of my twenties caring for my surprise baby—turns out condoms really aren’t 100 percent effective, and that wasn’t just something my mom said to keep me from having sex in high school—and starting over after my divorce at the ripe old age of twenty-seven.

Add in my ten years as a house flipper, and I know somebody, or somebody who knows somebody, in almost every corner of this city. And I don’t hesitate to utilize my connections.

I’ve found people usually enjoy helping other people.

I know I do, especially two days before Christmas.

“Hey, Jerry, happy holidays,” I say when my old foreman answers. Jerry quit to start a handmade cabinet business a few years ago, but we’ve stayed close. “I’ve got a hoarding situation in Chelsea and could really use an extra pair of hands. A cheap pair, if you know one. I didn’t factor removal of ten thousand beer steins into my budget and need to get this job done on a shoestring and sweat equity. Preferably before Christmas.”

Jerry laughs—loudly, because he’s from the Bronx and not even a little bit shy about making noise. “No problem, Mags. I got you.

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