If you're from Texas, you probably knew immediately where I got this mug--even before you saw the second pic (below). Yep, this is another Buc-ees find. It's big and sturdy and cheerful, and its message (Believe in the Magic of Christmas) is one that Scout will be needing in this week's release, If Only in my Dreams.
'Twas the night before Christmas and Scout Patterson was flying home to Oberon after a business trip to LA. But now, thanks to a chance, mid-air meeting with an angel, she's dreaming of a weird Christmas—one in which she sees what the town would have been like if she had never returned.
All Scout wanted this holiday season was to be home for Christmas. But when your home is in quirky, magical Oberon, California, things are rarely ever that simple!
***This short story takes place immediately before Spicy Nick***
EXCERPT:
Two days before Christmas…
It’s your typical late December day in the City of Angels where, despite the music blasting from the car’s speakers, it is not beginning to look a lot like Christmas. The sky is blue, the weather’s mild and the traffic is horrendous. As the musical marathon continues, one classic carol segueing seamlessly into the next, I feel a holiday headache coming on.“Isn’t there any other music we could listen to?” I finally groan.
Larry Mitchell, my agent and friend, shifts his attention away from the traffic clogging the 405 long enough to grin at me from beneath the brim of his seizure-inducing, red and green sequined ball cap, the one with the blinking LED lights that spell out HO-HO-HO! across the front. “C’mon, Scout,” he chides. “Where’s your holiday spirit?”
“What holiday spirit?” I’d like to know. “When have you ever known me to get all holly-jolly just because the calendar’s down to a single page?”
Larry sighs reluctantly. “Never.”
“Exactly.” It’s not that I’m anti-Christmas, but…well, no, actually. I guess I am. And, unlike the grinch, I do know the reason. Everyone’s expectations are too high this time of year. I was just a kid when I realized that “merry” was not a guarantee. It’s a wish, a prayer, and, far too often, a forlorn hope. The last few years have been wonderful, but I know how fast that can change. Christmas is the time of year that really hits home.
“I guess I hoped things would be different,” Larry says. “That moving to Oberon and finding your happily-ever-after would’ve made you…happy?”
“I’m happy!” I quickly protest. I mean, of course, I am. How could I not be? I’m living the dream! But there’s a reason Christmas Future was the spirit Scrooge feared most; happily ever after is a long shot at the best of times. “Look, just because I don’t dress up in silly outfits or sing along with every…” Shit. Too late, I notice the self-conscious look on Larry’s face. Does he think I mean him?
“Is that the time?” I ask in a desperate bid to change the subject. “Your clock didn’t stop, did it?”
“I don’t think so.” Larry casts a worried glance at the display screen, then his face clears. “Although, that would be funny, wouldn’t it?”
“No.” I glance uneasily at the traffic crawling far too slowly toward the airport. It’s two days before Christmas. If I don’t make my flight, there’s no guarantee I can get another. I promised my son that I’d be home in time to trim the tree. I can’t let Cole down. “Unless you think missing my flight would be funny?” It’s a pretty popular trope in those holiday romcoms he’s so addicted to, so maybe he does.
But Larry shakes his head. “No, Scout. It’s funny because it would be like George’s watch, you know?”
“No. Who’s George?”
“George Bailey?”
“Ah, right.” Larry’s obsession with It’s a Wonderful Life is the stuff of legends. The movie forms the centerpiece of all his Christmas parties—like the one I was forced to attend last night. “You realize the most likely reason his watch stopped was that it got wet when he jumped into the river to save Clarence, right?”
“Pffft. That’s just what George wanted to think. It was working fine once Clarence returned him to his own life.”
“Yeah, because it had dried out by then.”
“What about Zuzu’s petals?”
“What about ’em? It’s a movie, Larry. The petals were a plot device—that’s all.”
“It’s a film,” he insists. “A great film. And film is one of the lenses through which we view reality. Every detail is fraught with meaning.”
I’ve heard this before, and I’m not convinced. “The story is ludicrous.” Now, there’s a movie quote, if you like, from The Big Lebowski—a really great film. “Every person in the alternate Bedford Falls was living a sad, miserable existence just because George wasn’t there to prop them up? Who has that kind of power?”
“No man is an island, Scout. Every choice we make affects those around us.”
“Uh-huh. And you don’t find it strange that no one in the entire town could’ve chosen to be happy?”
“Old Man Potter was happy.”
“Yeah, and that’s another thing. Potter steals the deposit and gets away with it because everyone else sacrifices their life savings to make up the difference. They’re covering up a crime!”
“You’re totally missing the point of the story.”
“Am I? What’s the point then—that crime really does pay? I know what my husband—the cop—would have to say about that.”
“And what do you say about it, Princess?”
“The only thing any sensible person can say: Bah humbug.”
