Once Upon a December: A Holiday Short Story Collection Read Online Free PDF Page B

Nick—and tell him that the mistletoe did indeed work its magic, just as he promised it would.
     

 

 

     
     
    “Justin, can you believe this snow?”
    I glance up from my laptop and turn toward the office window. There’s a good six inches on the sidewalk.
    “When did that happen?”
    “That happened, little brother, while your head was buried in that brief. And more is on the way. They say we could have close to a foot by daybreak.”
    It’s impossible to ignore the excitement in his voice. Paul loves snow. It’s just one of the reasons he refuses to leave Minneapolis. After our dad retired and handed the reins to us, I’d suggested relocating the family law firm to a sunnier climate.
    But Paul won’t discuss it.
    Neither will my wife.
    “You're thinking about that pretty wife of yours, aren't you?”
    I grin. “How'd you know?”
    “Because you always get this stupid smile on your face whenever you're thinking about her. You know, you make life hard for the rest of us. Haley is always asking me why I don't look at her the way you look at Megan.”
    “Whatever. You're crazy about your wife.”
    “Of course I am. She looks like a runway model and has a PhD in Microbiology. What’s not to love? I just don't wear it on my sleeve like you do.”
    I toss some files into my briefcase. “You know, maybe you should. Women like to know they're loved.”
    “Yeah, yeah, you get that crap from Dad. All Mom has to do is bat those eyelashes.”
    It’s true. After nearly forty years of marriage, our parents are still crazy about each other.
    Rising from my chair, I reach for my coat and quickly zip it up. “Well, I’m out of here. I have to do some shopping.”
    “Shopping? On Christmas Eve?”
    I shrug and grab my briefcase.
    “Still haven't found her a gift, huh?”
    His laughter rings down the hallway as I make my way through the lobby and out into the frosty Minneapolis air.
    I hate shopping. I especially hate Christmas shopping. Megan hates shopping in general but loves Christmas, so she’s happy to fight the crowds to find the perfect gifts for our family. She even loves to wrap them—even though I've repeatedly explained there are store employees who will happily do that for her. Of course, I’ve also tried to convince her there are decorators who can trim trees and caterers who can bake pies, but she insists on doing everything on her own.
    It’s just another example of how differently we were raised.
    My parents freely admit we were spoiled. Dad’s law firm was, and still is, one of the most respected and successful family-owned firms in the nation. Because of that success, my siblings and I never really had to struggle for a lot growing up. Mom has always been a disaster in the kitchen, so paying complete strangers to decorate the house or fix appetizers for a dinner party had been a normal part of our childhood.
    Then, I met Megan Lambert —a beautiful, green-eyed, redhead who sat next to me in my third-year Legal Writing class. While the rest of us typed lecture notes on our laptops, Megan relied on pen and paper. As the daughter of a firefighter, Megan had learned from an early age how to be self-sufficient and frugal. Growing up in a single-parent home without the luxuries of . . . well, almost anything, had given her a shrewd mind and a dogged determination. She was intelligent and funny, and falling in love with her had been effortless.
    By some miracle, she fell in love with me, too.
    Dating had been tricky because she always refused to let me pay for anything. Popcorn at the movies. Hot dogs at the football game. It was a fight every time I reached for my wallet. It took nearly six months of dating before she finally let me pay for dinner. Despite our differences, we were absolutely crazy about each other. She taught me the importance of saving money for the future while I convinced her it was okay, within reason, to enjoy the fruits of your labor.
    It was an education for both of us.
    We