We Need a Little Christmas by Sierra Donovan Read Free Book Online

take them back inside to wait while she brought the car up to the door.
    Something warm settled over her shoulders. Liv reached up to find a brown corduroy coat draped around her, the bottom hem falling far past her hips. She didn’t move. Without turning, she had a feeling she already knew whose coat it was.
    â€œWait here.” Scotty’s deep voice behind her was quiet, as if reluctant to break the silence. “I’ll get the keys from Rachel and bring the car up.”

Chapter 5
    The next morning, Liv, Rachel, and their mother stood two inches deep in the snow that coated Nammy’s front porch. Snow and crutches. Not a good combination.
    But when they weren’t able to get an appointment with Mom’s doctor until tomorrow, Mom had insisted on starting the formidable task of sorting through Nammy’s belongings. Liv could relate. She knew Mom wanted to do something. Sitting around wasn’t in her nature.
    Guess that’s where I got it.
    But going inside for the first time might be the hardest task of all, and Mom had the keys to the house buried in her purse.
    â€œHold on,” Mom said, digging into another compartment while Liv wondered how long it had been since Mom cleaned out her purse. The organization gene didn’t run strong in her family; no one was sure where Liv had gotten it.
    She and Rachel each kept an arm linked through one of Mom’s, which probably didn’t aid with the purse rummaging, but they weren’t about to see their mother do another face-plant on the snowy pavement.
    Finally Mom fished out the keys on a ridiculous pink pig keychain and handed them to Liv. Liv dug her teeth into her lower lip as she unlocked the door, trying to pretend it was just any old lock in any old door. It was no use. The wash of memories hit her as soon as the door swung inward, and the indefinable scent of Nammy’s home rushed out at her. What was it made of? A touch of potpourri, maybe, with some composite of Nammy’s favorite soaps and cleaning products thrown in.
    And sadly, it was already a little bit musty. How long since anyone had been inside? Less than a week. Maybe five days?
    Liv took a deep breath, mindful that her mom’s arm was still hooked through hers, and stepped across the threshold. Her mom and sister followed, like a human chain.
    The assault of memories continued. The oval-shaped braided rag rug on the living room floor. The fake potted fern on its stand in the corner, because Nammy vowed she’d killed her last houseplant more than ten years ago. The wallpaper with ducks on the wing, because Liv’s grandfather had liked it, so Nammy had never wanted to change it.
    And, yes, her grandfather’s painter’s cap, hanging from the coat rack on the wall by the door.
    Never mind Mom’s crutches. Thirty seconds in the house, and Liv’s own legs could barely hold her up.
    â€œLet’s get Mom a seat—”
    â€œMom, you need to sit—”
    Liv and Rachel spoke at once, and they steered Mom to the nearest armchair. This wouldn’t be a very efficient process; they’d need to work out a system where their mother could work from a central spot.
    Mom propped her crutches against the arm of the chair. She was just beginning to get the hang of her new companions. “It’s freezing in here.”
    She was right. Maybe literally. The snowstorm had ended somewhere during the night, and the day had dawned bright and clear. But it was still cold outside, and with all the snow on the roof, the house would hold a chill for a long time. Liv hurried to the thermostat in the hallway to switch the heater on, then went to find the stash of boxes she knew Nammy would have in the garage. Nammy had always hated letting a good box go to waste.
    * * *
    â€œI’m still freezing,” Rachel said an hour later.
    Deciding that the living room furniture could wait, they’d moved their operation into the combined