Approximately Yours (North Pole, Minnesota #3)(8)

Carefully avoiding Elda’s phone screen, Holly crawled over to the pullout couch the two of them were sharing while in North Pole. She slithered along the floor and reached up to hand Elda the paper. Elda glanced at it and then looked at Holly, mouthing, “What?”

“Tell him.” Holly mouthed before crawling back over to the far corner of the attic, where she’d been sorting through her grandparents’ old books and magazines in preparation for the family to sell the house.

As Holly pulled open the bottom drawer of a tall, black file cabinet, Elda said, “Teddy, I’m so glad you’re saying this. I’m really busy, too, and I could totally use some space. Maybe we should take a break. I don’t want to be tied down here in Minnesota. You see, I met someone at the coffee shop—”

Teddy’s voice jumped an octave. “Elda, no—” He had obviously planned on being the dumper, but now Elda and Holly had snatched that away from him.

Holly’s smile of pride faded away as she peered into the drawer she’d just opened. About a hundred old National Geographic magazines were in there. Why had her grandparents bothered saving these? She glanced around the attic, which was full of garbage, basically. Why had they bothered saving any of this?

Her heart ached for her grandma, whose entire life was now on display. Holly made a vow that she would always keep her own house tidy and cleaned out. She’d never want her family members to have to sort through so much junk. She certainly didn’t want to leave anything gross or embarrassing hiding in a drawer for her father to find—like he’d found a set of his mother’s dentures tucked inside a jewelry box in her nightstand. Her grandmother would have been mortified.

Grandma had died only a few weeks ago, just this past Thanksgiving, while lying on a chaise by Uncle Don’s pool in San Diego. She’d had a Moscow Mule in one hand and a pair of sunglasses in the other. Elda’s parents had buried Grandma in California, for convenience. The entire family had been there, but it had been a small service. Holly’s grandmother had deserved a bigger sendoff. Her life was worth more than an intimate ceremony in a strange place.

There had to be something more they could do to honor her memory.

Elda knelt down next to Holly and wrapped her up in a big hug. “Thank you!” she squealed. Holly hadn’t even realized she’d gotten off the phone.

“For what?”

“I told Teddy I needed space, and then he said he wants to get together when we’re both back in town. He’s going to call me tonight, too.” She squeezed Holly tighter, then let go.

“So, you’re still going to go out with him?”

“Of course.” Elda brushed her hair off her face. She reminded Holly of a girl from a deodorant commercial, all fresh, clean beauty with a baby powder scent. Teddy was the before picture in a gym ad. “He’s a total catch, Holly, super smart. He’s president of the Young Republicans group on campus. And, obviously, he’s hot.”

Beauty really must be in the eye of the beholder.

Elda put her hands on Holly’s shoulders. “You and I really are an unstoppable team.”

Holly’s mom yelled up the stairs. “Girls! We’re going to dinner in a half hour!”

“Not another family dinner.” They’d eaten every meal together since the whole family arrived in North Pole a few days ago. Holly hadn’t had two minutes alone to rest and recharge.

Elda shrugged. “Tell your mom you’re sick or something.”

“Good idea,” Holly said.

Elda grinned. “Now I’m the one giving you advice.”

Holly’s parents let her off the hook for dinner, and she pretended to be napping until she heard the front door slam shut and the car engines turn over in the driveway. Then she jumped out of bed and listened. Holly heard nothing, no sound except the ancient furnace growling in the basement. She was alone. Finally.

She glanced around the attic, suddenly wondering what to do with herself. Holly wouldn’t squander this precious time alone. She could read a book or watch TV or just…exist.

Grabbing the biography of the Mitford sisters, Holly dashed downstairs to the kitchen. She snuck a heaping bowl of potato chips and retreated into her grandma’s study where they used to plan their gingerbread houses. Grandma would perch on the couch with her knitting, and Holly would sit behind the desk with her sketch pad and pencils.

She took Grandma’s spot on the couch and glanced out the window and right into the neighbor’s kitchen. A woman stirred a pot on the stove, while a boy sat at the table. A boy with beautiful sandy brown hair and perfect lips.

Holly slid off the couch and onto the floor, ducking out of sight. Danny Garland lived next door? When had that happened? Why had her grandmother never told her? She crawled along the floor, pulled herself up to a crouch at the windowsill, and peered over at Danny from behind Grandma’s green curtain sheers. He tapped away on his phone, glowering. His crutches were propped up next to him, resting against the table.

Grandma’d probably never said anything because she had no idea this news would matter to Holly. She’d had no clue that Holly had been dreaming about Danny since she was ten.

Still, this felt like a sign, like Grandma was reaching to her from beyond the grave. Danny Garland lived next door.

Bah. Stop it, Holly. This was no sign, and, besides, she wasn’t supposed to be thinking about Danny Garland anymore. He didn’t remember her, and he had a girlfriend. He was off the market, a pipe dream.