The Holiday Switch(4)



    A man with white hair, who probably wandered in from the parking lot, lingers after stepping in.

Ms. Velasco stands and heads to the office doorway. “Good morning, sir. This is not the entrance. You’ll have to go around the building and enter through the automatic double doors.”

A mumbled plea follows.

Ms. Velasco sighs. “Sure, sure, just this one time.”

The man is followed by his shuffling family, literally at his heels, as if the cold shoved them in. A myriad of voices verbalize relief from the chill. Then comes the gasp—they’ve probably discovered all the signed Holiday by the Lake memorabilia on the hallway walls. Another thing that elevated the gift shop: the movie props that Ms. Velasco managed to bring in.

When she finally sits back down, she whispers, “Newbs.”

We both giggle.

We can tell who’s new to the Inn. They murmur excitedly at the film memorabilia, shoved into every corner and hanging on every available hook from the ceiling. Like the empty popcorn tub used in the scene of Leo and Estelle’s first date, when they reached for the same kernel of popcorn. The vintage lighter Leo’s grandfather gave him when he died, which he used to light the bonfire when they snuck out overnight. Estelle’s pager, from which she received that pivotal message of the final twist in the movie.

“What do you think they’re going to buy?” I ask. At Ms. Velasco’s confused expression, I add, “It’s a little game we gift shop workers play. It helps pass the time.”

Ms. Velasco taps her chin. “I’ll bet, with how eager they were, that they’re going to buy a magnet and a sweatshirt each?”

“I’ll raise you a thimble and a shot glass.”

    We both laugh; then Ms. Velasco’s smile slips. She stares at me with a remorseful expression.

Dread rises up inside me. “You were going to talk to me about something?”

“Yes. Teddy applied for a part-time seasonal position here, before you sent your email.”

“Oh.” The shock of it leaves me speechless. I was fully prepared to give up my hours for KC, but not for this…Teddy. And no, they aren’t my hours to give away, but the Inn is like my second home.

My brain undertakes the mental gymnastics to subtract my anticipated gift shop earnings from my bank account.

“I’m sorry, Lila.”

“No. I get it. I understand, but if there’s a chance here and there for extra hours, I’ll take it.” I force a smile and grit my teeth. Only the second half of that statement is true, but Ms. Velasco has always been kind, and she taught me everything I know about retail. She suffered through the first days when I had no idea how to talk to customers; she broke me out of my shell. I’ll just have to make up the hours somehow with babysitting.

“Great. Thank you for understanding. Speaking of, Teddy is on his way here to drop off some of his stuff before he goes back for his last week of school.” Her face lifts as another set of jingle bells rings out.

“Ah. Here he is.” She stands.

A guy walks into the office. He’s wearing a hoodie and comfy baggy knit pants with pristine white shoes. His skin is golden brown, and he has lush, wavy dark brown hair, which he pushes back with a hand. Tiny diamonds stud his earlobes.

    My jaw slackens. Oh. My.

Teddy is not the little boy in the picture on Ms. Velasco’s wall. Far from it; if I passed him on the street, Teddy would definitely turn my head. First, because he’s Filipino, and there aren’t many Filipino people in Holly. Second, he’s cute. Cute in this brooding way that book boyfriends are often described, with prominent dark eyebrows and steely brown eyes.

He sets a duffel bag at his feet, and the clinking of several carabiners snapped into one of the straps momentarily catches my attention.

Ms. Velasco hugs him. “Anak. You look good.” She squeezes his shoulders like she’s trying to take him in. (I know I am.) “Wow, muscles.”

“Hi, Tita Lou.” He dips his head, as if shy.

My brain is still stuck on muscles.

“Lila?” Ms. Velasco’s voice yanks me back, and it’s only then I realize I was staring at Teddy.

“Yes. I’m sorry, I was looking at…Yes, that’s me, Lila.”

One of Teddy’s eyebrows lifts, and his lips curl into a grin. The kind of grin that says, You’re interesting, but in a wearing-a-Halloween-costume-in-December kind of way.

My neck heats, and I inwardly groan. This feels like the world’s most awkward meet-cute.

Ms. Velasco half laughs. “Exactly, Teddy, this is Lila Santos. Lila, this is Theodore, or Teddy Rivera, my nephew. You’ll be working together. All of us will be working together. It’s going to be such a special few weeks!”

“Great.” He nods but doesn’t say anything else. In the silence, his expression shifts minutely to what seems like wariness.

I can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or indifferent, but it sets off my penchant for hospitality. I want to douse this weirdness like snow over a campfire. “Welcome to the Bookworm Inn, home of Holiday by the Lake,” I announce in perfect welcome pitch, like I’m a Holly tour guide, volume eight out of ten. “If you need anything at all, I’m here.”

    Ms. Velasco claps. “Great. Let me get you to my—I mean, our—cabin. Lila, do you mind manning the fort? We can finish our conversation when I return.”

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