Page 123 of Rags's Awakening
“I’ve gotta get to my appointment,” Raven said. “I’ll call you before I take off for Denver,” she said, tugging on her hat.
“Sounds good. Maybe we can get lunch before you go,” Casey said.
Raven nodded, buttoned her coat with flair, and swept toward the door. “Goodbye, all,” she said, waving a hand as she bustled out into the snow.
“You have to admit,” Casey said, “she knows how to make an exit.”
Devin gave a short, dry laugh, shaking his head. “I’m surprised she didn’t ask me to dim the lights for her walk to the door,” he muttered, the amusement in his voice thin and strained.
As his voice trailed off, silence fell over them, thick and heavy, broken only by the rhythmic creaking of the wooden beams against the wind.
Casey cleared her throat. “Now that Raven’s left the building, I’m grabbing a sandwich at Savory Snacks. Do you want to join me?”
His gaze flickered toward a stack of books, then back to her. “I’d like to, but I don’t have backup today.”
“I can bring you one.”
“I’ve got one from home.”
She smiled. “How’s your mom?”
“Good. Busy decorating.”
“Do you put lights around the outside of your house?”
Nodding, he said, “Yes. Every year. Being an only child, I’ve learned to help around the house as much as I can.” He glanced at the window. “Glad I did it a couple of weeks ago when it was warm.”
“I’m sure your house looks beautiful. Is your mom cooking or are you two going out?”
“Staying home. I look forward to the holiday dishes she makes every year.”
“It’s nice having family this time of year,” she said.
An image flashed: multi-colored lights blinking on a Christmas tree, handmade presents tucked under its branches. Her grandmother stood at the stove, smiling ear to ear as she served pot roast and mashed potatoes, spooning out Jello salad—green and red, studded with pineapple and cherries—onto mismatched plates. Her cousins crowded around the kitchen table, voices overlapping, laughter spilling everywhere. It was the same every time she was lucky enough to spend Christmas with her grandmother. It was familiar and warm and imperfect in all the ways that mattered. And gone.
A lump rose in her throat. She swallowed it down.
“Are you okay?” Devin asked.
Devin’s voice cut through the images of her past. She shook her head slightly, and the memories scattered to the far corners of her mind. “Yeah. Just drifted for a second.”
“Let’s do dinner before Christmas,” he said.
“I’d like that.”
“Would your Insurgent?”
She laughed. “Probably not, but we’ll do it anyway.”
Devin smiled. “I’ll leave it up to you.”
She glanced outside. “The snow’s really coming down.”
“I might close early if it doesn’t let up,” he said. “I added three extra weeks to your due date.”
“Thanks. See you later.”
“Be careful out there.”
