Ms. Scrooge and the Wedding Clause

By Lydia Westing

It's not that Eliza hates Christmas, despite what her family, who affectionately call her "Ms. Scrooge," might think. She just doesn't have time for things like Christmas magic -- or romance, for that matter -- when she has more important things to do, like spending long hours in her lab, working on a cure for cancer. She definitely doesn't have time for prophetic dreams about meeting a dashing man on the plane to her parents' lodge, and she absolutely does not have time for him when he actually shows up on it. Will this mystery man be the key to warming the icy shell she's built around her Scroogey heart? Or will his inconvenient engagement to a gorgeous and successful model, who he's supposed to marry right at the lodge, tear them apart?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bryant Street Shorts
• Release date: Dec 16, 2021
• ISBN: 9781094435282

Lydia Westing

Lydia Westing is usually a comedy and pop-culture writer for websites like Reductress, Bunny Ears, Cracked, and The Modern Rogue. She has a small dog and a large husband, and they all live together in Nashville, Tennessee. She played roller derby for several different teams on and off for over five years. She’s much better at writing than she ever was at roller derby.

Book preview

Chapter 1

I’m sitting on an airplane, completely relaxed, sipping champagne. I’m in first class, and I know—in the way that you just know in dreams—that I’m on my way home to see my parents for Christmas. Everything is perfect. I don’t have any anxiety about flying. I’m in one of those moods where I can really appreciate the majesty of it all. Some brothers wanted to fly a hundred years ago, and now I was treating an airplane like a glorified sky bus.

This thought makes me laugh—a light tinkling thing in my dream that’s much cuter than my real-life laugh. I toss my head back, and my chestnut-colored curls brush across my shoulder. When I turn to adjust them, I see him coming down the aisle toward me.

Wow, is he gorgeous. Long legs, the perfect amount of five o’ clock shadow, and those big green eyes that peer out at me from underneath a really good set of eyebrows. I didn’t even know I had opinions on eyebrows before, but his were definitely good ones.

Then he opens his mouth, and the smoothest baritone voice I’ve ever heard comes out with a light hint of a Southern accent. Hey, do you mind if I sit here? he asks, gesturing to the empty seat next to me. He has a cocky little half-smile that says he knows I’ll say yes. It sends an excited shiver through my nervous system.

Sure, go right ahead, I reply in my flirtiest tone.

He settles his luggage and sits down next to me, bringing with him the scent of pinewood, sage, and juniper cologne that makes me want to jump directly into his lap and inhale him. He extends his hand to shake, and when he touches me, I suddenly see an entire future laid out before me.

We’re ice-skating together. He falls, and I laugh a little too hard. He pretends to be more offended than he is, so I try to help him up, and then he pulls me down with him. I know this trick he’s trying to pull, and I don’t care because I like where I land just fine.

He’s baking cookies with my mom, and he’s wearing her Christmas apron! He’s using that beautiful voice to sing me a song. I can’t make out the lyrics, but I know it’s making my heart melt, and I know he wrote it himself.

The images move faster after that. I’m in a wedding dress, walking down an aisle. We’re running a marathon. He’s accepting an award. I’m clapping in the audience, looking more proud than anyone else. There’s a baby; then another. The second one looks a little like my sister.

My eyes fly open, and I sit straight up in bed. Once my heart stops pounding, I kick off the covers and rush to the living room, where my phone is charging. My roommate Rosie looks shocked when I stumble through the door from my room, only half awake, still in my underwear and Looney Tunes sleep shirt. I vault towards the couch and grab my phone.

Whoa. You okay, Eliza? Rosie calls from the kitchen.

Fine! I reply through steadying breaths. Had a nightmare, and I have to change my flight. I know Rosie will understand. She’s the kind of person who calls in sick to work if her horoscope is bad enough.

She makes the sign of the cross over her chest. Totally get it, she replies. My aunt had a dream that my parents’ plane would crash when I was a kid, and they changed their flight. Then, five months later, 9/11 happened. I mean, sure, they were going to Boca, but still. It was, like, so close to being a thing. What makes your plane go down? Maybe you should tweet about it or something in case other people want the warning.

It didn’t crash. I met a guy.

Like, a serial-killer guy? Who murders you in the airplane bathroom?

No, a regular, hot guy with good eyebrows and a nice voice who may or may not be my future husband, I sigh. Rosie runs across the room and smacks the phone out of my hand. What are you doing?

Helping you. I’m sorry, girl; you can cheat death, but you can’t cheat love. I’m trying to save you a great big headache. If you and this guy are meant to meet, you will. It doesn’t matter what you do. Love is the most powerful force in the universe, and it sounds like it’s coming for you.

She looks delighted. Rosie has been pushing for me to get a personal life for as long as I can remember, and now fate is trying to foist one on me on her behalf.

We’ll see about that, I reply as I grab my phone and retreat to my room. Hello, I need to change my flight, please! I yell into the phone, even though the hold music is still playing. I need to make a point, after all—to Rosie and to any universal powers that might be listening.

It doesn’t matter! she yells back from the living room with a smug certainty that makes my blood pressure spike. Santa is bringing you a man this year!

Well, I hope Santa takes returns, I reply.

It’s nothing personal, Santa. I’m too busy to accept that gift this year. I’ve got things to accomplish, and I can’t get distracted by a smooth-voiced, good-eyebrowed airplane Casanova. I’m usually not superstitious, but the dream felt so weirdly real that I figure better safe than sorry.

While I’m still on hold with the airline, I realize there’s another way to avoid an encounter with the mysterious stranger. I could not go home for Christmas at all. I’m not really a Christmas person anyway. In fact, my family gave me a little nickname years ago because of my lack of Christmas cheer.

I decide to hang up on the airline and give my mom a call. Maybe she won’t mind if I skip Christmas altogether this year. I could get so much work done with no one else at the lab, and I’m so close to a breakthrough, I know it. Christmas morning, I could enjoy the empty apartment; Rosie would be visiting her family in the Bronx.

It will be me, Netflix, and a bottle of wine. I won’t watch a single Christmas movie. I’ll grab lunch in Chinatown and eat leftovers for dinner. Instead of Christmas in July (yuck), maybe I’ll do July in Christmas and download a couple of beach movies.

The idea sounds more and more appealing to me as I scroll through my phone’s favorites list looking for my mom’s name. It’s a short scroll since my favorites list contains only work, Mom, and Rosie. If I need to talk to my dad or brothers, I call Mom because they never answer their phones. She’s the one-stop shop for the whole family.

Well, if it isn’t Ms. Scrooge! my mom says when she picks up the phone. I’ve gotten used to the nickname, and I can’t pretend not to have earned it in past years. I literally said, Bah, humbug, to an orphan child once, but he was being really annoying, and he cut me off in line for the hot apple cider. Still, I get it. I’m never going to live that one down.

I can tell from her tone that she’s delighted as ever to hear my voice, and my resolve immediately flickers a little. Hey, Mom. How’s the Christmas prep going? I ask by way of easing into the conversation. Christmas isn’t just my family’s favorite holiday, it’s also big business for them. They run the Happy Holly Ski Lodge in the mountains of Starry Sky, Wyoming. Christmas is their biggest season.

Oh, honey, I’m so glad you’re coming home soon. We can use the extra pair of hands. We’ve got this big wedding coming up, and I tell you, I haven’t had a chance to sit down in a week. This bride is running me ragged. Apparently, she’s some kind of big social media person, and her wedding has to be a ‘mood’ or a ‘lewk’? Have you ever heard anyone say that before, honey? I’m so lost. I need a young person here to help me decide if this snowflake garland is a mood, and your brothers are no help!

Um, Mom?

Oh, I know! I can text message you a picture of it, and you can tell me if you think it’s a mood or a lewk or neither or both before I send it to her, okay?

Sure, I guess. So you’re that busy, huh? You… need another set of hands to work at the lodge?

Absolutely! We’re going to be stuffed to the brim on Christmas. Every room is booked for the wedding. There are even going to be some reporters here because the bride is, I guess, famous on the internet and all that. Oh, I think the groom might be famous, too! I had heard of him, I think. Tall fellow, handsome, but his name escapes me. Anyway, the publicity for the lodge should be amazing, but I worry we’ll be too busy to celebrate much. That’ll probably be fine with you, though, huh, Ms. Scrooge?

I said ‘bah, humbug!’ one time! I grumble.

Oh, sweetie, we only tease because we love you. You know that. So what time is your flight getting in? I can’t wait to see you.

I hesitate. Actually, I’m changing my flight?

Oh? Her voice falls.

"I’m pushing it up by a day. My boss keeps bothering

Reviews for Ms. Scrooge and the Wedding Clause

[Sheena Gurbakhash · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Lydia Westling writes an amazing Christmas romance novella. This one had so much heart.

[judy griffin · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

Only Bryant Street Publisher … not surprised.