Page 21 of The Holiday Play
Never a good sign.
But Grady will be home any minute, and while he won’t openly freak out, I know this mess will bother him. I’m sick of coming across like the useless mother who can’t handle things. On the odd Thursday or Friday when he’s home and takes over child responsibilities, the house always runs like clockwork.
He’s never the hot mess I am, and dammit, I’m kind of over this.
Dumping the toys into the basket, I pause by the window to take in the blanket of snow that fell last night. It’s now a blue-sky day, and what I wouldn’t give to grab my camera and hikeinto the woods at the back of our property. I could spend hours in there, snapping away to my heart’s content.
But nope.
I’m on kid detail.
“Kendall!” I call again, and the silence is becoming ominous.
Shit. I better go look for her.
Picking my way around the rest of the mess, I take a moment to throw a few more toys into their rightful places and make sure the cushions are back up on the couch.
“Kenny, baby. Where are you?” I try to keep my voice light and singsongy, attempting to get a giggle out of her.
Grabbing the trail of clothes up the stairs, I bundle them in my arms and head up toward the bedrooms.
Oh shit, I hope she hasn’t put herself down for a nap. Very occasionally she does this, and then she’s up for the rest of the night.
I rush to her room and am relieved to find her bed empty.
My gosh, you can barely see her bedroom floor.
I wince, closing the door and hoping Grady won’t do one final check in here. We packed everything last night so we can hit the road as soon as he gets home with Nichelle.
Now that we’re living in Crested Butte, we’re about a four-hour drive from Nolan.
I never thought I’d want to live in a town even smaller than my college home, but when I graduated and Grady got recruited for a job working in the Gunnison National Forest, we took it. And I’ve loved our time here.
It’s been six years, and both our girls were born in this cute little town. I love the community, I love having a forest in my backyard, and I love, love, love all the photos I get to take.
My nature shots have been doing pretty well. I’ve been selling my prints online ever since I got pregnant with Nichelle, and it helps to supplement Grady’s income. We were able to purchasethis house when Nichelle turned one, and although things get tight occasionally, we’re totally making it work. It helps that my parents are excessively generous, and I always have that trust fund I can dip into when necessary.
I’ve also become the town’s freelance photographer. I didn’t mean to, but I ended up taking photos at a local celebration, and when I posted them on social media, a lady on the council went nuts for them.
I’m now the girl with the camera at all town events and have also picked up some family photo shoots. Those pay really well, and they definitely keep me busy around Halloween and Christmas when everyone wants to take a pic in their costumes or for their annual family card.
Yep, I seriously love my job.
And it keeps me upbeat on those days when I’m going out of my head trying to look after my kids and “unsuccessfully” run this home.
“Ken-dall,” I call down the hallway. “Where are you?”
Pausing next to the girls’ bathroom, I try to listen out for her, but she’s seriously so quiet, which means she’s up to no good.
Grrrr!
Heading for our bedroom, I almost don’t want to go in there, but I force the door open and spot my heels scattered near the door of the walk-in closet.
Okay, so she’s playing dress-up.
Not so bad.
“Kenny?” I sneak up to the closet door and peek my head inside, my shoulders deflating when I don’t see her.
