The Holiday Switch(9)

    The bright side—or, as Mom might say, the opportunity? Dad spent more time with our family while he slowly rebuilt That’s A Wrap. I got to know Dad better than I ever had. I learned the value of a dollar. And I made the decision that I don’t want to burden my family more than I have to, with college and beyond. They’d saved some college money for me, but I decided I would make up what I could with scholarships, loans, and jobs. That, when I graduated from college, I would make enough money to support myself and help my siblings. That I would find work aligned with a reliable, well-paying profession. Which meant premed, and eventually becoming a doctor.

But something else came from that fear: this need to express myself. I had just started the free library, and I was reading more than ever with all the ups and downs. Books distracted me; they gave me hope. I felt so strongly about certain books that I would journal about them in my spiral notebooks. Winter break of my sophomore year, after getting hired at the Bookworm Inn, Ms. Velasco shared some Holiday by the Lake–inspired blog posts from mega-fans, and the idea was born. I could pay forward the hope books had given me. I could blog from my laptop, even from my phone, anonymously, and for free. I could do it before or after my shifts.

Blogging was against my parents’ rules. But it made me happy, and for those moments, struggle was nonexistent. And it wasn’t social media, technically. I wasn’t sharing any of my personal information.

A mile east of downtown Holly, I flip on my turn signal and pull onto Bookworm Drive. The road leads into a dark canopy of tree branches that blocks out the moon, and the Bookworm Inn appears along the horizon like a beacon of light. The Velascos took over the Inn—which used to be an estate owned by one of Holly’s first residents—decades ago and restored it to its previous splendor. The town had gone through its own rough period when the local paper mill shut down, and the Inn was one of the reasons why the town survived—it employed many of its residents. But it was Ms. Velasco who brought in tourists from all over the country and expanded the business in a major way.

    I park behind the gift shop just as the back door slams open. Ms. Velasco stomps out in her galoshes and slicker, her face scrunched in a serious expression. That is, until her eyes lock on mine.

Her face relaxes. “Oh, Lila. Thank you. I…There’s so much going on. We’ve got a store-full.”

“No problem.” I lift up a plastic bag, which holds a takeout container full of warm tinola. “From my mom.”

“Ah, she’s St. Nick in human form. If you can put it in the refrigerator in the break room, it will be my reward for making it through all of this.”

“What would you like for me to do?”

“I’ve got a plumber and everyone who has any expertise in water damage at the Inn, trying to fix the leak.” She hikes up her hood. “I need to deal with one of the guest cabins. Apparently it has a malfunctioning window. That pretty much leaves Teddy on his own in the gift shop.”

“Teddy’s still here?”

“He was supposed to head back to school tonight, but he was kind enough to stay until I got help.”

“Does he know what he’s doing?” I flush, hoping my question doesn’t sound too rude, but Ms. V doesn’t seem to notice.

    “He got the four-one-one on stocking the floor, and he knows the basics of the register—he’s worked retail before—but…you’ll see. Anyway, I’m not sure how long it’s going to take, and you’re the only one who answered their phone. I left messages, so I can only hope we get more backup.” She winces. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s totally fine. I’m glad I can help. I want the hours.”

“Great!” Her face lights up for a beat. “And just between you and me, there’s something exciting coming down the pipeline. I can’t breathe a word about it yet, not until next weekend’s staff meeting, but it’s changing the game.”

“Oh, really?” Ms. Velasco’s words pique my curiosity. Changing the game? How much busier and more successful could the Inn get? The gift shop barely has a lull during the holidays, and the Inn’s reservations are solid through the middle of January.

“Yep. Here, grab the keys to the register.” They’re hanging precariously on her pinky, and I snatch them before they fall.

She walks backward, clearly in a rush. “I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

“Okay!” I wave and enter the back door.

The dull roar of customers fills the hallway, and I speed up.

Wow, it’s busy.

In the throng of people, I spot Teddy’s dark hair. He’s at the register, ringing up a customer, with a line five deep.

“I’m sorry, sir.” His voice rises above the rest. “I can’t seem—”

“Look, can you get someone else to help you?” The customer’s voice emits the truest sound of discontent.

My customer service smile goes on at full wattage, and I slip behind Teddy.

“Oh my God. Thank you,” he breathes out. “I can’t seem to—”

“He can’t open the register,” the customer—a man wearing a Niagara Falls cap with a matching shirt—states, red-faced. “All I want is my change. Forty-nine cents.”