Over the next few hours, we somehow drank all the green hangover shots and ate all the crackers and cheese—including the shredded cheese—while laughing until our stomachs hurt.
“I have to go to bed, you guys, I’m exhausted,” Willa said as Bree finally helped her to stand up.
I started to clean the mess we’d made, but Greer told me to stop. “Just leave it. We can get it in the morning.”
Nodding, I followed everyone up the steps. Yawning, I said, “I’m crawling right into bed.”
“After you take off your makeup, right?” Candace asked.
I waved her off. “I’ll just wash in the morning.”
Candace stopped, causing me to bump into her. “What!? You did not just say that.”
“She did, I heard it,” Bree said.
Looking around at all of us, Candace asked, “Do none of you prepare for bed?”
Bree raised her hand. “I do.”
Arabella tilted her head. “By prepare, do you mean get into pajamas and brush my teeth?”
A look of utter horror appeared on Candace’s face. “I get your lack of fashion sense, but your lack of skin care is disheartening.”
“Oh Lord,” Greer mumbled, before she turned and headed up to her bedroom. “Sorry, ladies, I’ve heard this lecture before. I’m off to bed!”
Willa watched Greer with a longing expression as she disappeared up the steps. It was clear she was exhausted. I moved closer to her and whispered in her ear, “I’ll cause a distraction so you can slip into your room.”
Willa gave me a quick hug, or attempted to—her belly got in the way. “I’ll owe you big time, Abby!”
I jumped into action. “Candace, will you show us your bedtime routine?”
Arabella’s head snapped toward me, and I could feel her angry stare boring into me. I’d explain later that I had to sacrifice us for Willa’s sake.
“Yes! Yes, I will. Follow me, ladies.”
As we headed toward Candace’s room, Willa slipped into her room. A soft click and then the turn of the lock made me smile. When I glanced at Arabella, she frowned.
“I had to, she was exhausted.”
Crossing her arms over her body, Arabella rolled her eyes.
“Now, in my bag, I have all the essentials.” Candace pulled out a face mask, a mister bottle, and a jar of something she called her ‘most precious item’. She took out a scarf next, followed by face wash and another jar.
“Now, first step is to wash your face, ladies. Then, you need this.” She picked up one of the jars. “A good night cream. We always—always—take the time to wash and moisturize our face both morning and night.”
Candace reached for another bottle in her bag.
“Next, I put this lotion on my entire body to infuse moisture into my skin. It works overnight and when I wake up, my skin is as soft as a baby’s bum. Our bodies are like delicate plants, ladies. We must water them.”
Arabella leaned closer to me and whispered, “This is like the best and worst moment of my life.”
I couldn’t help but giggle.
“Now, I need to take a few extra steps with these curls of mine. I put this in—” She held up a jar. “It’s my sweet almond oil blend.”
“You put that in your hair?” I asked.
Candace nodded. “I have to. My hair is dry, and I need moisture. I work it through my curls, then I’ll wrap this scarf around my hair for the night. When I wake up, I take the scarf off, shake out my curls, mist with water and finger-comb.”
Candace clapped her hands and pointed to the bathroom. “Go in my bathroom and wash your faces. Then we’re night-creaming you all up!”
The four of us spent the next hour and a half talking, laughing, and learning all about self-care. There was no doubt in my mind that I had needed this night, and now I owed Greer bigtime.
The next morning when I woke up, I felt refreshed, renewed, and most of all…hopeful.
Bishop
I took Hudson out for another tour of the farm after we woke up. He asked a few questions about the types of trees we grew at Wonderland and other things he needed to understand before he started his new book. I told him we plant the seedlings in the spring and that they’re normally four to five years old when they’re planted; and how it took anywhere from four to fifteen years for a tree to grow six to seven feet in height. I had to admit, it was kind of cool having Hudson write a main character who owned a Christmas tree farm.
I kicked the snow off my boots and walked into the back door of my house, with Hudson following. “Coffee?” I asked as I took off my coat and hung it over one of the chairs in the breakfast nook.
“No, thanks, I’ve already had two cups. I just got a text from Greer. The house is cleared and I’m free to head home.”