You know the routine, and I’m so sad this is the last year Nancy Stohlman is hosting it! So here’s a holiday story to help you digest the holiday weekend (A little corny, but I know nothing about celebrity life, so…)

Janie was an up-and-coming starlet, a nice girl, but a little naïve. Her latest movie had just come out, and though she had a small part, the critics mostly liked her, said she was one to watch. She had a certain je ne sais quoi (noted by an early fan, and grabbed up from her socials and integrated into her marketing and promotions sites). And it did fit. But she had plans of her own for growing a solid, positive public image.

Being polite, never losing her temper or trashing others, remembering where she came from, avoiding situations that might lead to accusations of excess—all of these things came naturally to her. But celebrity can breed jealousy, can breed contempt, and even she was unable to avoid the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.

Read more: FlashNano Day 26: “Write a story that includes a celebrity.”

People Janie had thought were her friends turned out to be…not. A few bad photos, some blurry stories from celebrities who weren’t making the cut and were sliding down in the popularity polls. AI generated photos had started out laughable, but as expertise in the tool grew, it became harder to distinguish truth from reality. People began to have doubts. Requests for interviews and inclusion in special events were dwindling.

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Temps had been dropping, snow was expected, but Janie sat on the back porch steps, away from the tumble and chaos that rattled the wooden floors, the stomp of feet running up and down the stairway, the laughter of a large and happy family come home for the holidays. It was not so much that she didn’t want to be there in the middle of the chaos, but that she needed some quiet time to recharge.

She let herself be squeezed out of the kitchen like toothpaste from a tube and was using the relative quiet to polish up her soul. At a pre-holiday party, she’d spoken harshly to one of her non-friends, let herself be pushed, and social media was all over it. Looking out over the neighbor’s back yard, the dogs chasing each other, nipping at each ears, and occasionally stopping to lift a leg and claim some territory, she didn’t turn when the back door huffed open and the screen door screeched.

“I saved you a pumpkin bar.”  The step beside her groaned as her mother lowered herself to sit. Her fur-lined moccasins settled comfortably next to Janie’s worn Sorrels. “And here’s some coffee to wash it down.”

“How did Gregg not get the last pumpkin bar?” Janie smiled, wearily looking sideways at her mom and accepting the steaming beverage.

“I’ve taken up boxing, didn’t you know? Aw, a quick swat on your brother’s behind has always worked better than any words.” She raised her eyebrows and laughed at the dogs, who were rolling over each other. A sharp yelp: one had actually caught the other’s ear and chomped down.

Her mother’s bulk warmed Janie right through their jackets. They sat for awhile, and waved to the neighbor when she called the dogs back indoors. Janie offered up a bite of the pumpkin bar and felt relieved when her mother shook her head no. One squirrel dashed across the yard in pursuit of another, while a third quick-stepped the elevated power-line that stretched high over the chain link fence separating the two properties. Both women finished their coffee at the same time. Both grimaced at the cold dregs at the end of the cup.

“Gregg showed me the latest reel on his phone.” Quietly placing the cup on her free side, her mother carefully studied at the squirrels as they flicked their tails at each other and one tried to get behind and above. “Damn fools. It’s the wrong time to try that. Too close to the long freeze.”

“Maybe one’s just trying to get warmth from the other,” Janie suggested. She paused. “I thought that Wanda was my friend.”

“I’m sure she is,” answered her mother. “Just not a very good one.” She slipped an arm around her daughter. “You know who you are. And you know you deserve the best in pumpkin bars, hot coffee, and warm family. Lucky you, you’ve got that. Now go get yourself dressed. I need help with the dishes, and we’re serving a second Thanks Giving day of neck bones and turkey—with all the fixins’—at the Unitarian Center. You’re here for the week, and I mean to put you to work! No cameras for now.”

Side hugs were as effective as swats on the behind to get the message through in her family; they all spoke the same language. This was where she belonged. And so was Hollywood.

© Liz Husebye Hartmann (2025)