Mistletoe Miracles

Chapter 6

Opening my eyes to a dark room and a warm quilt draped over my body, I take a moment for my groggy mind to clear up as I try to remember where I am. The smell of sugar cookies comes from the quilt and after a moment, I find the familiar outline of my dresser in my childhood room.

"That's right, I went home for Christmas and fell asleep after putting my clothes away." I muttered to myself, turning over onto my back and looking up at the ceiling. I guess I had been more exhausted than I thought I was as the sunlight still shone brightly when I arrived home around noon. Just how long did I sleep?

Looking to the side where my night table is, I find my phone placed there and chuckle. It had been in my jeans pocket the last time I remembered, so whoever came in and covered me with a quilt must have taken it out and put it there. My guess is that my mother did that. Reaching for the device, I tap on the screen and wince from the bright light as it comes to life. Through squinted eyes, I managed to read the time and groan once more. I slept for just under six hours. I got here around noon and the time is six-forty-five. Alice was right, I definitely needed rest and that is what I plan to do these next three weeks. Well, that and getting over Jacob.

Pushing myself off of my bed, I decide to get up and search for my parents. My mother is probably in the kitchen, preparing dinner for the night. My father might be in the garage fiddling with the car he has been working on since I was a child. My mother and I always joke that it will take a Christma Miracle to make it run. Maybe I should help him with it. This could be the year we get that nineteen-seventy Mustang running.

Sitting up on the bed, I take a deep breath and find the scent of food wafting through the slightly open door. My stomach growls, reminding me that I hadn't eaten anything since this morning and I stand from my bed and head out into the hallway.

"You up, Marissa?" My mother calls from downstairs, concern in her voice.

"Yes. I just got up." I admit as I climb down the stairs, watching as my mother disappears into the kitchen. I chuckle, following after her to find her pulling a roasting pan out of the oven and setting it on the stovetop. Looking around the familiar room, I find that the shelves have been filled with cooling racks full of cookies. From gingerbread to sugar cookies to even snicker doodles. It seems my mother's baking habit is still kicking around.

"Do you need help with dinner?" I ask, grabbing a gingerbread man from the nearest shelf and biting into it.

"Those are for the festival!" She chides me, giving me a disapproving look.

"Well, I can help you make more later." I state sweetly, getting an eye roll.

"Fine. Tomorrow you are helping me bake, decorate, and pack cookies for this weekend." She agrees instantly, making me grimace. I was hoping to walk down Mill Street and shop for a bit, but I guess this will have to wait till Tuesday.

"And yes, you can set the dinner table and get your father from the garage." My mother adds, motioning to the cabinet where we keep the Christmas plates. Resigned to my fate, I pop the last bit of my cookie into my mouth and get to work. Grabbing a basket from the pantry, I place it on the counter before gathering plates, cutlery, and glasses for dinner.

"Don't forget the eggnog." I mother calls over her shoulder, focusing on cutting the roast into pieces. Complying with the request, I move to the fridge and frowned at the amount of royal icing inside.

"Just how many cookies are you making this year?" I ask, shuffling things around the shelves until I pull out with a carton of eggnog and a bottle of orange juice for me.

"More than I usually do. That carpenter I told you about is building me a display shelf for the Christmas Market." She answers, surprising me. For years, I have been telling her she needs to have a display for her cookies when she sells them. I guess her baking has become so popular that she is finally doing it.

"Are you selling more than just cookies this year?" I decide to ask, not used to seeing my mother this excited about baking.

"Yes, actually. I am making gingerbread house kits to sell. I think the community would love them. I am also throwing a full decorating kit into the raffle."

"I am amazed mom. You finally put that baking obsession to great use." I state, smiling at this news.

"I mean, you wore me down. All this talk about turning my hobby into a small business finally clicked this year when I met Cadence. He took one bite of my cookie and said I should start selling them and now here we are." My mother stops cutting the roast and turns to look at me, her eyes shining under the light.

"You were right, Marissa. My baking is too good to keep as a hobby." Happy for my mother, I rush to her side and kiss her cheek, telling her how proud I am before taking the basket and moving to the dining room to set the table. My mother became a busybody since I moved out, going from one hobby to the next to help keep her busy. The one hobby that she managed to keep has always been baking. With the table set, I make my way to the garage door inside the house, finding my father bent over, looking into the hood of the Mustang.

"Dinner is ready." I call out, watching my father jump in surprise.

"Already?" He asks, standing up and turning to look at me with a puzzled look.

"Also, when did you wake up?" I shake my head amused at my father as I lean against the door frame.

"Yes, and I woke up about twenty minutes ago. Now come on. We both know if you track engine oil into the dinning room, mom's going to yell at you." I answer heading back inside and ready to enjoy a good home-cooked meal.