The Holiday Switch(56)

Lila: Because he’s bored.

And he lives in the cabin out back





Carm: Get real!





The smell of popcorn filters into the room, and my stomach growls. It’s followed by Teddy, holding the steaming bag. He tosses a kernel into his mouth. “I think I’m ready to tackle the end of this movie.” He sits down next to me. “It ends well, right? No one dies?”

“No,” I laugh. “No one dies.”

“Just making sure. Sometimes you just need a happy ending.” He echoes my words from my last blog post and offers the bag. “Want some?”

“Sure,” I say, keeping a smile from leaving my lips. I’d like a happily-ever-after too.





TUESDAY, DECEMBER 28

As we watch the credits roll, blinking lights shine into the window.

“Clyde’s here!” I stand and watch the snowplow crest the hill into the parking lot. When I turn around, Teddy is still sitting there with the empty bag of popcorn on his lap. He looks bereft, and once more my heart squeezes at his reaction. “What did you think?”

“Okay, so you were right,” he says. “It’s a good movie.”

“Told you so.”

“I can see why this whole place is revered.” He sighs, and his face falls into a frown.

“You okay?” I sit back down.

“Yeah. I…Never mind.”

“No, what is it?”

“I was just thinking how I haven’t taken this place seriously. My parents always say that Tita Lou bites off more than she can chew, especially after inheriting this place from Lola. Did you know that there was an offer for the business when Lola died?”

    I shake my head.

“Someone wanted to buy the entire property, the concept, everything, but Tita Lou refused. My mom, on the other hand, was ready to let it go. But this place was left to the both of them. They fought about it, and in the end, Tita Lou bought my mom out.”

“Wow. That’s why—” I start, then back off.

He half laughs. “Why I was pretty negative? Yeah. But you made sure that I checked my preconceived notions. And now I’m looking at this whole place, at Tita Lou even, with new eyes. And maybe my mom’s issue with her shouldn’t be mine.”

My mother’s words from our Leftover Christmas dinner return to me: I want the both of you to be close, through the ups and downs. Family is all we have.

“You have to understand,” he continues, “my parents are serious people. Not only are they serious, but they’re also risk averse. Going into business like this—it doesn’t guarantee success.”

“This place is a success.”

“I know…just not in their eyes.”

“Is that why you don’t want to tell them about your climbing?”

“No.” He sighs. “I hate to talk about this, because it makes everyone worry.”

From the look on his face, I can tell this is no laughing matter. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“No, I want to. You know everything else. I’ve…I’ve had a couple of concussions.”

“A couple?” Alarm rings through me. I think about the news segments I’ve seen on TBI. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“No, and they’re both from climbing.”

The memory of him climbing that sky-high wall returns, but this time, I picture the frightening image of him falling…

    I clutch my stomach. “God, that must have been horrible.”

“I was on a boulder. The funny thing about it is that I was only five feet off the ground.”

I shake my head. “I don’t think that’s funny at all.”

“No, you’re right. It wasn’t. It was a novice competition, when I was younger, in middle school. Not too hard for what I could have accomplished at that time. But I was arrogant. That day, I lost focus. I was coming from underneath”—he looks up and pretend-clutches the air, and for a moment, I see exactly what he was doing—“and it was a simple push off with my left foot to get my hand to the next handhold and…”

His hands drop to his lap.

I wince at the image.

“I should have landed on my feet, but I was expecting to make it. My back and head took the brunt. I recovered from it after about a month. Then I fell again—we all realize now that it was too early for me to go back—and my parents pulled the plug. I don’t know about you, but when someone takes the thing you love away, it’s a rough go. As soon as I left for college, the first thing I did was look for the nearest climbing gym.” His eyebrows knit together. “And now I…”

“What is it?”

“My parents think I’m at school for winter classes. But I used that as an excuse so that I could keep climbing and enter this competition.”

“Wait.” The words settle in my brain. “Your parents don’t know you’re in Holly?”

He rubs the back of his head. “No. And Tita Lou and my mom don’t talk to one another, so…”

    “That’s…”

“It’s lying to the nth degree. And I’m not proud of it.” He leans into his elbows, then looks back up at me. “You’re judging me, aren’t you?”