"Four down. Small songbird. Five letters," Dad says, holding the newspaper aloft, the pages crinkling. Like a cat with a mouse, I bat the fuzzy brown sphere hanging from the Christmas tree.

"Robin?"

"Ah, yes, of course," he says, writing it in and returning the end of the pen to his mouth. "Okay, which means six across must start with an R. Seven letters. Scarlet-snouted caribou." He frowns at the crossword.

"Dad, come on. Is this a Christmas crossword or something?"

"I don't know. You know what a scarlet-snouted caribou is, sweetheart?"

I bat another ornament. "What if I told you that, rather than a breed of buck you haven't heard of, a scarlet-snouted caribou is in fact a synonym for a red-nosed reindeer?"

"Ah." His face lights up. "Rudolph!"

"There you go."

Although I used to hate when Dad was away so much for work, I always loved the long stretches of weeks at a time when he was home, when he was around to relax and hang out and occasionally work from his home office. He doesn't have work for the next three weeks, which means three weeks of long, lazy mornings doing the crossword together and walking the dog and catching up while Mom's at work.

"How about this one," he says. "Ten across. Twelve letters."

"Oof."

"That's only three, and I haven't given you the clue yet."

"I was oofing the twelve letters."

"Ah, I see." Dad adjusts his glasses. "Okay, so, ten across. Twelve letters. Gift of the magi."

I put my thinking hat on.

"I don't know what a magi is," Dad says. Neither do I, but I take advantage of the context clues available to me. Twelve letter words that go in a Christmas-themed crossword and could possibly be gift-themed. I can only think of one.

"Frankincense?"

Dad taps the squares as he spells out the word and shakes his head in awe as he writes it in. "Annabelle Joy, my little genius. How'd you get so smart?"

"I learned from the best," I say, shooting finger guns at him.

"Your mother raised you well," he says. He reads out a few more clues until we've worked our way through the entire crossword, and he folds the paper on the coffee table. Cooper, who is lying at his feet drying off after our cold walk this morning, rolls onto his back. Dad uses his feet to give him a belly rub.

"I have a bit of a problem," he says.

"Yeah?"

"What with being away for the last six weeks, I've got quite a bit of Christmas shopping to catch up on."

"Want to go to the city?" I ask, sitting up. I may not have much money to my name, but I love to browse as much as I like to spend, and a day out with my dad means a high chance of a free lunch, or at least a coffee.

"Are you offering to drive?" he asks. "I've spent more time behind the wheel recently than I like."

"Sure."

"Then that'd be great. I'll go change."

He heads upstairs. I kneel on the floor next to Cooper and give him a proper belly rub, scratching up and down his chest as he wags his tail and rubs his head against the carpet. He goes stock still when he hears something, though, and a moment later there's a knock at the door. He doesn't bark, just waits and wags his tail, probably hoping it's Mom.

It's Laurel, with Ava on her hip.

"Hey." I beam at her. "What brings you here? Have you ever been to my house before?"

"Not inside," she says, glancing into the hallway. "Can I come in?"

"Of course." I lead her to the living room and her eyes widen.

"Wow. Your family really goes all out. You're making me look like a grinch."

"I mean..." I pout at her. "You could do with a bit more decoration. You don't even have a tree."

"Yet," she says. "We usually get it about ten days before." She adjusts her grip on Ava, who is enchanted by all of the glitter and the sparkle and the lights. "We'll do it this weekend. Hannah likes to be part of it."

"How does Christmas work in your household?" I ask. "I mean, I know Christian had the kids a couple years ago, else you wouldn't have this little cutiepie. Do you take it in turns?"

"We used to." Laurel sits when I do. She sets Ava on the sofa next to her, but Ava is far more interested in Cooper, who doesn't often get the chance to see such small humans. He's intrigued, watching her with his head tilted.

"Not anymore?"

"After the whole, you know"—she gestures at her daughter—"I realized I can't really handle the prospect of spending Christmas alone. I need my kids." She watches Cooper and asks, "Is he okay with toddlers?"

"Far as I know, yeah. He loves my brother's kid. He's a big softie," I say. "So you've got Otto and Hannah for Christmas? Do they see their dad at all?"

"They finish school on the twenty-first and they're staying with him until Christmas Eve, then he'll bring them to me," she says with a sigh. We both watch as Ava reaches out to Cooper and he carefully sniffs her hand before deciding she's a friend, and he licks her fingers. "Kind of hard to get fully into the spirit when it'll just be me and Ava for most of it."

I gesture to our tree and say, "You and Ava are welcome here any time."

"Thank you."

"Without sounding rude, why are you here?"

Laurel presses her hands together between her thighs. She's wearing maroon pants and a buttoned shirt, like she's about to chair a board meeting rather than popping in to see the girl she likes on her day off. It's so very Laurel of her. So unlike the Laurel I saw yesterday, the one who left the imprint of her fingernails on my scalp.

"I'm in a bit of a bind and I really don't want to put you on the spot, and you can absolutely say no, but I need to ask you."

"You know I'll always look after Avie for you, if that's it," I say, grinning at the adorable little girl as she snuggles Cooper. He has taken on a protective role already, curling his body around her.

"No, it's not that. Although I really appreciate that." She breaths in, deep and slow, and I'm scouring my mind trying to think of what else she could need help with if not childcare.

"Laurel? Is everything alright?" I put my hand on her knee. She looks up at me.

"Do you want a job?" she blurts out.

"A ... job?"

"Jessica's leaving the store. It's all been quite last minute and this is our busy season and we need someone to replace her, and I know it's a lot, and you're not a retail person, but on the off chance you're looking for work—"

"This is an actual job? Not, like, a favor?" I ask.

"An actual job."

"At your store?"

"Yes."

I laugh and say, "This is kind of the antithesis of taking it slowly."

"Taking it slowly flew out of the window when my son pretty much caught us in the act," Laurel says drily. She makes a face at me and says, "It's a lot, I know, I'm sorry. I promised the others I'd at least ask, but really, please don't feel you have to say yes just because I'm the one asking."

A job. Prospects. Money.

"You don't want it," she says.

"Are you kidding? Laurel, I'm down to my last two hundred dollars. I'm getting perilously close to having to ask my parents for pocket money." I shift closer to her, our knees pressed together. "Wait. If I agree to work for you, does that mean we can't, you know, be together? Am I allowed to sleep with my boss?"

Laurel laughs. Her whole face changes, her eyes brightening. She cups my chin and kisses me and says, "I checked with the boss. She says it's just fine. No special treatment, though. The pay is still shit."

"Do I get health insurance?"

"Yes."

"Awesome. Mine ran out, like, two months ago."

"Annie!" she cries out, alarm replacing amusement. "Jesus, what if you got into an accident?"

"Let's not dwell on that, okay?" I squeeze her knee. She shakes her head at me, her thumb and forefinger massaging her temple.

"I can't believe you. You don't get a choice anymore – you're taking this job whether you like it or not, god, Annie. I can't believe you're parading about in this weather without insurance."

"Me and, like, thirty million fellow Americans," I say. "You got a few more jobs going?"

She rolls her eyes at me. "Thirteen dollars an hour, health insurance, and you get to sleep with the boss. Deal?"

"Deal."

There's a noise from upstairs as Dad comes out of his room, the thud of his feet on the stairs.

"Annie, I was just thinking, I know it's the holidays, sweetheart, but have you thought about looking for work here in Deer Pines?" he calls from the hallway. "Your mom mentioned that you like to keep busy, and you don't want to rest on your laurels."

"Actually, Dad," I say as he appears in the living room, "I would love to rest on my laurels."

He does a double take when he sees Laurel sitting next to me, my hand on her thigh. "Sorry, I didn't know we had company. Mark Abraham." He reaches across Cooper to shake Laurel's hand. I don't think he's noticed the toddler cuddling the dog.

"Laurel Jacobs. Nice to meet you."

"Jacobs? That rings a bell."

"I own Jacob's Ladder," she says.

"Ah, wonderful! Fantastic little store you've got there," Dad says.

"And I'm the newest employee," I say like a proud child, my hand on my chest and a grin on my face.

"Oh." Dad looks taken aback. He looks from me to Laurel, to my hand and her thigh and back to me. "Are you two...?"

"I have to work for Laurel to pay off all the debt I've built up. All those sexual favors get expensive and my bank account is pretty low," I say with a dramatic sigh.

Dad's eyes go so wide I can see the white around his pupils. Laurel gasps and lurches away from me and says, "Annie, Jesus!"

"That was a joke."

"I know that but your dad doesn't! I'm sorry, Mr Abraham."

"Mark, please," Dad says, and he laughs. "Don't worry, I've grown accustomed to my daughter's peculiar sense of humor. Though the question remains. Are you an item?"

"Yes." I take Laurel's hand and give her a reassuring smile. "Although maybe not for much longer. I don't think she likes my jokes."

Laurel sighs and says, "I'll get used to them."

Dad takes a seat on the other sofa, ready to quiz Laurel, when he at last spots Ava on the floor. "Goodness me. Who's this? Where did you come from?"

"This is Ava," I say, as though she's mine. She hears her name and beams at me and disentangles herself from Cooper to reach for me. She uses the dog to pull herself to her feet – he really is incredible tolerant – and she walks over. "Whoa, that's a new skill! When'd you figure that out?" I catch her when she launches herself at the sofa and swoop her up onto my lap. "You're such a big girl, Avie!"

"She just figured that out this morning," Laurel says. I meet her eye, and her gaze is full of warmth as she watches me cuddle her baby. Ava is immensely cuddleable.

"Who's a little superstar? I knew you'd figure it out soon. This will make our obstacle courses more fun, huh?" I say, standing her up on my knees. Dad is back to looking confused.

"Did I miss something?" he asks. "I didn't know I had another grandchild."

"Surprise! I'm a mommy."

Laurel glances at me and to my dad, she says, "Sorry to disappoint, but Ava's my daughter."

I press my cheek to Ava's and say, "Look at us, though. Are you sure she's not mine? I looked just like Avie when I was a baby."

Laurel's eyes are getting a workout today, the way she's rolling them at me, but I can see in her smile that she's amused. Her voice is drier than a desert when she says, "Yes, Annabelle, I'm pretty sure you didn't impregnate me two years ago considering I haven't seen you since 2015 and, oh, it's literally impossible."

"Spoilsport." I let Ava go when she reaches out for her mom and crawls across my lap to get to Laurel, who folds her daughter into her arms and kisses her hair.

"What a sweetheart," Dad says. He loves kids. He and Mom are a right pair, the way they wish all of us would hurry up and give them more grandchildren. "What is she, one? One and a half?"

"Fifteen months," Laurel says, and I wonder at what age parents stop counting in months, which has me wondering how old I am in months. Trying to multiply twenty-nine by twelve gives me a headache, though, so I give up pretty swiftly.

"Adorable. Annie was just like that at that age." He digs his wallet out, because my dad is absolutely the type of guy to carry around old baby pictures of his adult children, and unfolds a tiny photo of me at about two.

"Wow. Look at you," Laurel says, grinning at the photo that has survived almost three decades in my dad's wallet. "So blonde!"

"Damn, I was so cute," I say.

"You still are," she murmurs, her hand creeping back to my knee.

"Annie, darling, do you still want to go to the city?" Dad asks as he slips the picture back into his wallet next to equally ancient pictures of my brothers. "We can always go another day, if you've got business to attend to."

"No, no, don't let me interrupt," Laurel says, standing up. "I only came to ask you about the job anyway. I don't want to get in the way of your day."

I stand too. "When d'you want me to start?" I realize I have asked virtually no questions about the job, but beggars can't be choosers and all that. Thirteen dollars an hour is a hell of a lot more than I've been making for the last six months, and at least this job comes with normal hours and a hot boss.

"Jess's last day is Wednesday. Is Saturday too soon?" she asks, leaning her head away from Ava when her grabby hands try to pull on a dangly earring.

"Saturday's perfect. As long as I can still come to game night?"

"Hannah wouldn't let you miss it. She's so excited." Laurel chuckles and switches Ava to her other side. "I finish at one tomorrow. How about you come to the store, if you're free, and I'll show you the ropes?"

"It's a date," I say.

Dad leans forward and says, "I don't think it is, Annie." To Laurel, he says, "Keep your eye on this one. She can be a bit of a menace."

Laurel gives him a long-suffering look, as though it's been a lot more than a week and a half that we've been reacquainted. "I'm starting to see that." Dad chuckles and heads off to look for his shoes. Ava starts fussing, trying to get down. "Right. I'm going to go. I need to get you on the health insurance plan right this minute. It might be an idea for you to make yourself a bubble wrap cocoon until then."

"I've survived the last few months. I can make it a couple more days."

"If you have just jinxed it, so help me god." She covers her eyes and pushes her hand through her hair. "Maybe you shouldn't leave the house. God, Annie, you're going to make me go gray."

"You'd better hurry up and get me on the payroll, then. Wouldn't want to ruin your hair." I curl a lock around my finger, round and round until my hand meets her cheek and my fingertips graze her jaw. I kiss her, and she softens a fraction.

"I'm serious," she murmurs. "Please be safe."

My thumb rests over the pulse in her neck. It jumps when I kiss her and whisper, "Anything for you."

*

i do love a bit of family banter! annie's dad may not feature much but he's a fun one to write!