Jennifer Snow

The Trouble with Mistletoe


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      “Um…” She debated telling them about Jordan—a guy she’d connected with through an online dating site in a moment of poor judgment, self-pity and too much wine, four months before. With her busy travel schedule and his long hours on Wall Street as a trader, so far they’d managed to make time for three quick lunch dates and countless late-night chat sessions over Skype whenever she was out of town.

      She was disappointed that those calls wouldn’t be possible on this trip, with the dial-up access at the Brookhollow Inn. She’d emailed him explaining the situation, attaching an invite to her company’s Christmas party on December 20. It would be their first real date and a chance to introduce him to her friends and coworkers. She hesitated. Her Brookhollow friends wouldn’t understand why she’d had to turn to online dating when she lived in a big city, full of interesting, single people. Nor would they understand that work took priority over relationships. “Not really,” she said finally.

      Ava and Lisa shared a look.

      It took all of Victoria’s strength not to question the exchange. So, she wasn’t married yet. She didn’t have a house full of kids. Did that mean she was a failure? Her mother certainly thought so, but she’d expected her friends to be more open-minded. She’d chosen a different path and there was nothing wrong with that. Was there? The awkward silence spoke volumes. She couldn’t stand it. “I mean, there is one guy.”

      The girls looked hopeful.

      “Go on,” Lisa urged, moving her chair closer to the table.

      “Tell us about him.” Ava nodded.

      “Well, right now we’ve just been texting and video calling a lot…a few lunch dates…” Victoria blushed, praying the confession didn’t sound as lame as she thought it did.

      Ava looked disappointed. “But you are going to go on a real date?”

      That was the plan. She prayed he’d be available the night of her Christmas party. The thought of going alone again this year was too depressing to contemplate. “Yeah. We’re just so busy with work.”

      “That’s good.” Rachel sat straighter, apparently forcing herself to look awake. “Whatever, don’t pay any attention to those two. With or without a serious boyfriend, I bet your life in New York is so exciting. Like an episode of Friends.”

      Victoria smiled. “Sure, something like that.”

      “I knew it,” Rachel said. “Ow…” She grimaced and gripped her side.

      “Are you okay?” Victoria hoped her friend hadn’t chosen this moment to go into labor.

      “It’s fine.” Rachel struggled to catch her breath. “Just a kick.”

      Ava and Lisa exchanged knowing looks. “I miss that part,” Lisa said, her eyes filled with tears, and she laughed. “Look at me,” she said, wiping her eyes with a paper napkin.

      “It really is the best feeling, having life growing inside you. Don’t worry.” Ava touched Victoria’s hand. “I’m sure you’ll experience it someday.”

      Victoria’s cheeks flushed. “Um…excuse me for just a second.” She pushed her drink away and grabbed her cell phone. Sliding from the barstool she made her way to the bathroom. Inside, her phone beeped. Amazingly strong cell reception in the bathroom at the pool hall, of all places. Finding an empty stall, she closed the toilet seat and sat, dialing Heather’s cell number.

      Her friend answered on the third ring. “Hello? Vic?”

      “I’m going to kill you,” she hissed into the receiver.

      “What? Why?”

      “For telling my former friends to take me out on the town!” This night was turning

      into an intervention. Somehow, Victoria suspected her mother had set the girls up to remind her of everything missing in her life. It was working.

      The door to the washroom opened and she heard someone enter the stall next to her.

      She lowered her voice. “Do you even know what a night on the town around here means?”

      Heather laughed. “So, it’s not New York, it’s your hometown.”

      “To say it’s not New York is the understatement of the year. I’m at the pool hall, which is also the bowling alley, and the movie theater. They have a disco-ball, dance floor and get this—arcade games. The place hasn’t changed at all since we came here in high school.” She closed her eyes and rested her head in her hand. The familiarity of the place and the memories here made her chest hurt.

      Heather was still laughing on the other end, unable to speak.

      “That’s not even the worst of it. I’m here with a pregnant woman, about to fall asleep at the table or give birth any minute—I don’t know—and two mommies who can’t talk about anything other than poop and vomit. And I can’t participate in the conversation because I don’t know anything about poop and vomit.”

      “Vic…stop…” Heather said, struggling to catch her breath.

      “I’m glad you find this amusing,” Victoria ground out.

      “It can’t be that bad.”

      “Oh, really?” Victoria rubbed her eyes. She had to get out of here. “I hate you for setting this up.” She stood and slumped against the bathroom wall. Her eyes fell to a set of initials inside a heart, drawn in black marker on the opposite wall: V.M. and L.D. Forever. She shrieked. They haven’t painted the walls in twelve years?

      “What?” Heather sobered instantly. “What’s wrong?”

      “The graffiti on the bathroom wall is taunting me,” she barked into the phone. “I’m seriously going to have a panic attack. Where are you anyway?” Her friend had also been assigned an acquisitions trip that week.

      “You don’t want to know.”

      “Heather.” Her tone was stern.

      “San Diego. But it’s really not that great.”

      “Liar. How do you always get the good trips?” In the past three months her friend had been to Miami and Phoenix. Victoria had been to Amarillo and Bridgeport.

      “I’m dating the boss. It means I’ll never get promoted, but I get the good trips.”

      Victoria shuddered. If that’s what it took, she’d rather be sent to Alaska.

      “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll start getting sent to better locations in the New Year.”

      “Yeah, maybe.” She wasn’t so sure. “Okay, I have to get back out there.”

      “I’m sorry, Vic. I thought it would be fun for you to catch up with your old friends.” Heather sounded disappointed. “You always talk about them and the fun you had in high school. Kind of makes me jealous. I was always the outsider at my school.”

      “I realize you meant well, but I just don’t know these women anymore. We certainly don’t have anything in common. I feel like my life is meaningless to them. My accomplishments mean nothing because I haven’t done them with a baby on my hip.” She let out a deep sigh and rubbed her forehead. She had to call it a night. The free Wi-Fi just wasn’t worth it.

      “Don’t let them get to you. We will celebrate our lack of knowledge of poop and vomit at the Richardson the night you get back. First round of drinks and the cab are on me.”

      She doubted that another girls’ night out would so easily put to rest the idea triggered by her old friends that life was passing her by, but she just said, “Okay. Talk to you soon.” Disconnecting the call, Victoria freed herself from the bathroom stall. She readjusted her pink cashmere sweater, relieved she didn’t know the other person at the sink. She washed her hands and smoothed her wavy, blond hair before walking out.

      “I’m