When 17-year-old Rosalie’s stepmom, Susan, sabotages her Christmas by secretly canceling her flight, Rosalie is de.va.st.ated. But ka.rm.a has other plans. A series of ironic twists and turns leaves Susan stranded, hu.mi.li.ated, and exposed for her ma.nip.ula.tion… ensuring that her Christmas is far from perfect.
Last Christmas was supposed to be perfect. But life’s not perfect, is it? Especially when you have to deal with a stepmom who really doesn’t care about you.
I’m Rosalie, and I’m seventeen, and let me tell you about the nightmare that was my Christmas. Two years ago, after a pretty seamless divorce, my dad got married to Susan. And let’s just say that we didn’t hit it off as well as he would have hoped.
From the moment she entered my life, Susan made it clear that I wasn’t part of the perfect blended family she had envisioned.
“Rosalie is too much like her mother, Rob. What did you expect? That we’d hit it off perfectly and be the new mother-daughter duo around? That girl is stubborn to the core.”
At least she had that right.
Since then, I had moved to a tiny apartment about twelve hours away from my dad. At first, he hadn’t wanted me to leave, but Susan had gotten her way in the end. She also wanted me gone.
I wasn’t complaining. I mean, I was closer to my mom in any case, the school I was enrolled in was so much better than my previous one, and the building I lived in belonged to my dad’s aunt. So, she was constantly checking in on me, bringing casseroles of food and baked treats.
Rent was covered, and between my monthly allowances from my parents and the part-time job I had at the local spa, I was sorted. I was thriving on my own.
Then, Dad invited me to spend Christmas with them, and for once, I was hopeful. Mom was away at a retreat in Tibet, and I wasn’t looking forward to spending the holidays alone.
I booked my flight early, because the thought of driving twelve hours made me feel nauseous. My gifts were all wrapped and secured in my bag. I even packed an extra bottle of my dad’s favorite whiskey.
“Rosalie, please explain why you want me to buy a bottle of whiskey for you,” Aunt Maureen said.
“It’s for Dad! It’s for Christmas, not for me, I promise! I’m just underage and can’t exactly buy it myself.”
She allowed it and bought it for me, wrapping the bottle in thick brown paper too.
“Here you go,” she said, coming into my apartment. “The bottle better be sealed when you get home to your dad.”
She chuckled, left a tray of brownies, and headed out.
The countdown to Christmas felt like forever, until Susan showed up at my apartment, claiming that she was on a business trip and needed a place to crash.
“Rosalie,” she said, lugging her bags through the door. “I need a place for a few days. I’m here on business, not for fun. You continue to study for school or do whatever you need to do. Just make sure that the coffee machine is always filled, and I’ll sort myself out.”
Now, I live in a small one-bedroom apartment, so her staying over was awkward. But what was I supposed to do? Say no? And then have Dad come at me?
No, thank you.
Begrudgingly, I let her stay.
At first, Susan was weirdly pleasant. She complimented my holiday decorations, which was shocking because she usually sneered at anything I did.
But on the second night, I was shocked when Susan offered to cook dinner.
“I’ll be back from my meeting soon,” she said. “And I’ll take care of dinner. Grilled fish, okay? Oh, and garlic bread!”
“That sounds delicious. Thanks, Susan!”
I thought that maybe… just maybe, she was trying to bury the hatchet and make things better between us.
Spoiler alert: she wasn’t.
On Christmas Eve, I woke up buzzing with excitement. My flight was scheduled for the afternoon, so I double-checked my bags, threw on my favorite sweater, and waited for Aunt Maureen to take me to the airport.
“I’ll see you at home?” I asked Susan as I put my boots on.
“Yeah,” she said, not looking up from her laptop. “My flight is tonight. I’ll lock up and bring the keys with me.”
I got to the airport. And that’s when everything fell apart.
The airline attendant frowned at her screen as I handed her my ticket.
“I’m sorry, Miss Sutton,” she said. “But your flight was canceled.”
I blinked, confused.
“What? Canceled? By who? The airline?”
She tilted her head and squinted at the screen.
“No, all our flights are going ahead, ma’am,” she said. “But it was canceled two days ago online.”
My stomach dropped.
What the hell?
I hadn’t touched my ticket. I hadn’t checked in online. Nothing. Frantically, I called the airline’s customer service, and they confirmed that the cancellation had been made from my account. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who had access to my laptop two days ago.
I was devastated.
As I sat in the airport, trying to process what had just happened, my phone buzzed.
Enjoy your Christmas! Ours will be perfect because it will be without you! Maureen will have your keys.
The message hit me like a punch to the gut. She’d sabotaged me. Susan had sabotaged me.
The “nice” act was just a cover for her plan to keep me away from Dad for Christmas. Furious, I tried calling my dad to tell him what had happened, but it went straight to voicemail.
I spent the next few hours in a haze of anger and frustration. I could have left the airport to go back home, but I was just numb. I didn’t know what to do.
My Christmas was ruined. But then, around 9 p.m., my phone buzzed again. This time it was an unknown number.
Your little plan worked. I’m stranded at the bakery. It’s freezing, and I need you to pick me up now. NOW, ROSALIE!
I blinked at the text, practically hearing Susan’s voice screaming at me.
What plan? I hadn’t done anything! And yet, I was intrigued.
I’m busy. Good luck, Susan. You can walk.
And then, I went back home.
The next morning, as I pieced together the events of Susan’s disastrous night, the irony was nothing but delicious.
Here’s what had happened:
That afternoon, after I left for the airport, Susan had gone to the local bakery to pick up pies for Christmas dinner. But because she’s, well, Susan, she parked her rental car illegally, in a tow-away zone, mind you.
Why me?
Because my dad had bought us similar phone numbers with only one digit different so he could memorize them. I was the only number Susan had managed to memorize, and I guess k.ar.ma had a sense of humor.
And to top it off, Susan thought that I had sabotaged her and called the towing company after discovering the canceled airline ticket.
Meanwhile, my dad, who had been trying to call Susan all night, finally called me back. His voice was tight with concern.
“Shouldn’t you be here by now, Rose?” he asked. “And where is Susan?”
“Oh, you haven’t heard?” I said, barely able to keep the laughter out of my voice. “She’s probably still at the bakery or chilling in the tow yard by now.”
“What are you talking about, Rosalie?”
I told him everything.
About the canceled flight, Susan’s text, and how she was currently stranded.
“You’re kidding,” Dad said. “She actually canceled your flight?”
“Yeah,” I replied. “There was nobody else to do it. And now she’s paying the price for being ugly.”
He was quiet for a moment, then sighed.
“Rosalie, there’s something you should know,” he said. “A few weeks ago, Susan told me that she didn’t think you should come for Christmas.”
I froze.
“What?”
“She said that it’d be easier for everyone if it was just ‘us.’ I thought she’d get over it or work through it when she came to you for her business trip. But I didn’t think that she’d actually do something like this.”
“Dad, you knew she didn’t want me there?” I asked.
“I thought I could fix it, darling,” he said softly. “I wanted this Christmas to be special for both of you. I know Mom is away, so it was up to me to make it good for you. I didn’t think Susan would go this far. I ignored the topic after I spoke to her.”
“You thought ignoring it would help?”
His silence was enough of an answer.
“I’m catching the next flight,” he said simply.
When Susan finally made it home, hours later, after hitching a ride from a tow-truck driver, she looked like she’d been dragged through life.
Susan took herself to my bathroom and washed off her experience before falling into a deep sleep on the couch. When she woke up, my dad was there, fresh off his flight.
“You canceled her flight?” he demanded before saying anything else.
Susan froze, her face going pale.
“I… Rob, I wanted us to have some family time without…”
“Without my daughter?” he snapped. “You didn’t just ruin her Christmas; you tried to ruin our relationship. What kind of person does that to a teenager? Rosalie is just a child who has been forced to grow up because of you!”
Susan stammered, trying to defend herself, but the damage was done.
“Pack your things,” Dad said firmly. “Spend Christmas wherever you want. But it won’t be here. And I’ll be spending Christmas with my daughter.”
For once, Susan was speechless. She gathered her things and left, her head hanging in shame.
As for me?
Dad booked us flights back home, and he promised that Susan wouldn’t be there when we got in. We spent the rest of the holiday sipping hot cocoa, eating pie, and laughing over the ridiculousness of it all.
And Susan?
She spent Christmas alone in a hotel room, nursing her bruised ego and her hefty towing fine.
Shame. Sometimes ka.r.m.a works fast.
