6. Bastian

BASTIAN

The old Chevy materialized through the falling snow, horn blaring as it veered recklessly toward the pickup zone at Eau Claire airport like an out-of-control plane coming in for an emergency landing.

“I guess that’s my ride,” I uttered to myself.

Maggie Winton confirmed it by sticking her head out the driver’s window, waving dramatically and screaming at the top of her lungs, “Bastian! Bastian Cole! Your chariot awaits! Well, almost. I’m almost there. Incoming! Here I come!”

“Maybe keep both hands on the wheel!” I called back, stepping away from the curb in case the Chevy mounted the gutter. Surprisingly, as the car braked, it slid to a perfect halt right in front of me. I wasn’t sure whether the maneuver was skill or sheer luck, and I was pretty certain Maggie didn’t either. I just hoped the good fortune continued for the drive back to Mulligan’s Mill.

The moment the car stopped, Maggie jumped out, a neck brace preventing her from turning her head properly.

“Hey Maggie, thanks for picking me up. What happened to your neck? You okay?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just a little sports injury from trying to get into a suitcase. You need a hand with the bag?” She hammered the trunk with her fist until it reluctantly lurched open.

“No, I’m good. I can lift it.”

I hauled my old suitcase into the trunk, trying not to grunt with the strain of it, and Maggie slammed the trunk shut before opening the front passenger door for me.

“Thanks, but you don’t have to do that,” I said. “I can open the door for myself.”

“No, I insist. This is my big role in the Larson family Christmas schedule. I wanna do it right, Lonnie and Ronnie are depending on me.”

“Well, I’ll be sure to tell them you’re doing a wonderful job,” I said, getting into the car.

“Seriously, don’t bother, I’ll tell them myself. Nobody will believe a lying heartbreaker like you, anyway.”

“Oh.”

With that, Maggie slammed the door shut.

It seemed the temperature outside matched the chilly reception.

“You want the heater on?” Maggie asked after sliding behind the wheel and pulling onto the road.

It was freezing in the car. “Yes. Thank you.”

Maggie hit the dash and while the heater didn’t come on, the radio did.

She slammed her fist against the car’s dash again and suddenly the heater blew dusty hot air at us while something rattled loudly behind the dash. “That noise will stop soon.” In the meantime, she turned the radio up to drown it out.

WHAM’s “ Last Christmas ” was playing.

I tried to ignore it, but before long it began to get to me. I started squirming uncomfortably at the sound of the all-too-familiar breakup song, especially after Maggie’s remark about me being a lying heartbreaker. I was about to ask if we could change stations when she started singing along with the song, loudly and tunelessly.

“Last Christmas, I gave you my art. But the very next day, you gave it away.”

“I don’t think those are the lyrics,” I muttered.

“Sure they are. You need me to turn it up?”

“No. Actually, do you mind if we turn it off?”

“Are you kidding me? This is a great song. Don’t you know it? Haven’t you ever heard it before?”

“Yes, I know it. Everyone knows it.”

Maggie ignored me and continued telling me about the song. “It’s one of the best Christmas songs ever written. It’s about an artist who paints Christmas pictures… like, paintings of reindeer and shit like that. One day he gives one of his pictures to someone, and I guess they didn’t like it much because the very next day they gave it away. Maybe Rudolph’s nose was too bright. Who knows. It’s pretty much open to interpretation.”

“It’s not about that at all. It’s about someone giving their heart away.”

Maggie laughed as though I’d been listening to the wrong song all these years. “No, it’s not. That’s ridiculous. How can you give your heart away? You’d be dead.”

“Can we please change the station? It’s a breakup song. I’m just gonna change the station.” I reached for the dial.

“Good luck finding a different song. It’s four days before Christmas. Just about every radio station in the world is playing this song twenty-four seven right now.”

I ignored her and turned the dial on the old radio.

I heard static, then “ Last Christmas ” came on another station, only at an earlier point in the song.

I spun the dial again, and lo and behold, there was WHAM.

I tried once more and—“Oh my God. Seriously?”

As the Chevy cut its way down the road like an icy breeze, Maggie continued to belt out all the wrong lyrics…

While I wondered what the hell I was doing coming back to Mulligan’s Mill.

“Oh Bastian! Sweetie, come here and give me the biggest hug you can!” Lonnie came running out of the house, arms open, and I smiled, remembering why I’d come.

Right behind her was Ronnie. “Bastian, you big old lug! Come here and bring in the love!”

The pair of them hugged me so tight I dropped my suitcase and struggled to breathe for a moment. “Guys, guys! It’s amazing to see you too, but I think you’re crushing me.”

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” they both said, releasing me and letting me draw air.

“Are you all right, dear?” Lonnie asked. “How was your trip?”

“Did you have a good catch-up with Maggie in the car?” Ronnie asked. “Did she take good care of you?”

“Oh, absolutely. Five-star service, all the way.”

Maggie chuckled. “Ignore him, he’s a liar. It was totally six stars.”

“Six stars, that’s an impressive rating,” Ronnie said. “Maybe we could even aim for a seven while you’re here. Now let me take that suitcase for you.”

“I’ve started baking cookies,” Lonnie declared. “The hoof cookies didn’t quite turn out the way I wanted, so I’m sticking to what I know—gingerbread men.”

“What’s a hoof cookie?”

“I’d show you but Maggie fished them all out of the trash and ate them. Never mind. Come on inside and tell us how you’ve been. We’ve missed you!”

Walking into Benji’s old bedroom required more than just a deep breath; I actually had to steady myself for a second.

I let Ronnie walk ahead of me with my suitcase which he placed on the bed. Lonnie hurried in after him, making one final check of things to make certain the curtains were straight and the lamps were turned so that you couldn’t see the seam in the lampshades.

When I walked in after them, a flood of memories crashed into me like a wall of water. Sure, the room looked different now that they’d turned it into a guestroom with fresh wallpaper and new furnishings. But that couldn’t stop the image of Benji’s old bedroom from seeping through the floral-print walls.

I saw the floorplans we had pinned up, with blueprints of the renovations that we intended to make to the Bixby family mansion to turn it into our dream BnB.

I saw his old homework desk covered in furniture books and homewares magazines, as well as the notebooks and the expanding inspiration board where we pasted all our cuttings.

I saw the pile of antiques that we had already started assembling, forming a pyramid of lamps, doorknobs and old-fashioned tapware piled in one corner.

“So, what do you think of the new-look room?” Lonnie asked. “I was going for a Hamptons look… crossed with a gentle floral pastiche, Louis the fourteenth kind of feel. What do you think?”

Lonnie had the best of intentions with everything she did, but it was always Benji who’d had the decorative flare in the Larson family. I smiled nonetheless. “I think you’ve created something really… special.”

Lonnie clapped her hands together, thrilled. “Do you really think so? Because you make a living out of marketing for a big fancy hotel, so of course your opinion means the world to me. Ronnie says I’ve got a real eye for design, but if I’m honest I don’t even know what pastiche means, or who Louis the fourteenth even was. I just trusted my instincts, and suddenly we had a new guestroom. Voila! That’s French. We learned it from our new boss, Pascal.”

“Oh hey, that’s right. You guys have new careers at the local patisserie. How’s that going?”

“So busy,” said Ronnie. “Between switching rooms around in the house and getting ready for Christmas and working our shifts six hours a week, we’ve really been burning the candle at both ends. But hey, we’ll sleep when we’re dead, right?”

“Ronnie!” Lonnie exclaimed. “Don’t even say that.”

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry everyone. That was stupid and insensitive.”

“You sound super busy,” I said, keeping the conversation on track. “But the room looks great… and you guys both look great too… and I can’t wait to catch up properly.”

“Well, I know it’s been a long day of travel for you,” said Lonnie. “But if you’re up to it we’ve planned a nice simple dinner downstairs. It’ll just be us. Maggie has offered to take Great Nan to watch the carolers in the park, and Connie’s tagging along to make sure Maggie doesn’t throw any snowballs at them. So, it’s just the three of us for dinner. It’ll be nothing special, certainly not the kind of fine dining you’re used to in the big smoke. But I wanted to make you a nice, homecooked meal now you’re back in town. I bet you miss those.”

“I do.” I wasn’t sure how hungry I was, but Lonnie’s homecooked meals could give you an appetite even when you didn’t have one. But I had to ask—“Is Benji coming?”

“Well,” answered Ronnie. “To be honest, we didn’t mention it to him. He was a little taken aback when we told him you were coming… and we’ve got Christmas Eve lunch and Christmas Day lunch planned… and we just thought maybe it was best to ease him into things. If you know what I mean.”

“Oh… okay.” I paused. “Was he that upset about me coming? No wait, you don’t have to answer that. Of course he was. Why wouldn’t he be?” I sighed. “Are you sure it’s such a good idea me being here? I mean, it’s not too late for me to go. I could just hop back in the car with Maggie and go back to the airport right now and let you guys have yourselves a merry little Christmas. What do you think?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lonnie said firmly. “You’re here and you’re staying. We’ve been trying to get you back for Christmas for years. Now that you’re here, there’s no way on God’s green earth I’m letting you leave. Do you hear me?”

“Then maybe… should we perhaps invite Benji to dinner tonight? I mean, I’d hate for him to feel left out.”

Lonnie and Ronnie exchanged a look. “It might be the perfect opportunity for the two boys to break the ice,” Ronnie said.

“Perhaps,” replied Lonnie. “I was just hoping a few days of Christmas cheer might help thaw Benji out a little more. But I suppose you two need to talk sooner rather than later. You’re right, we should invite him.”

“There’s just one thing,” I said. “Do you mind if I’m the one who asks him to dinner? I feel like it needs to come from me. Is that okay?”

The pair looked at me, and Ronnie asked, “Are you sure you’re up to this?”

I took a deep breath and with a nod I said, “I have no idea. But I guess we’re about to find out.”