“Aw!” Holly mocks me while looking destitute at the thought. The pizza arrive, and neither of us bothers digging in. “I can’t believe you’re really letting a prize like Graham Holiday go to waste to someone who doesn’t even eatpie.” She leans in. “She doesn’t eat PIE! What kind of a person is that?”
I wrinkle my nose over at Sabrina a moment. “She’s subhuman. We both know that. But Graham doesn’t seem to mind.” I openly glare over at him as he nods into her ridiculousness. “I’m betting that whole pie thing isn’t a deal breaker to someone like him.” Graham is so rich he could hire someone to eat pie as he watches. In fact, I bet he compiles an entire list of the ridiculous ways he wastes his money.
“It should be a deal breaker.” Holly pulls a slice off the platter, and the mozzarella strings itself right to her mouth. “Mmm,” she moans. “So good.Hey! If Graham and Sabrina get married, they should totally have Angelino’s cater their wedding. It’s where they had their first official date, after all. And, of course, we’ll provide the cake—for free.” She rolls her eyes because, face it, it’s pretty much a given.
“I didn’t think about that one.” I spin my plate and watch my pizza turn upside down. “At that point, it will be a good riddance cake as well.” I steal another glance their way, and my appetite is no longer anywhere to be found. For whatever reason, Graham Holiday is invoking all sorts of emotions in me ever since he’s dropped back into Gingerbread, and I’m not too sure I like it.
In fact, I know I don’t.
Sabrina continues to cackle at Graham long after Holly and I box up our food.
I guess I am a pretty decent matchmaker.
After all, I’m still batting a thousand.
Too bad it doesn’t feel half as good as I thought it would.
* * *
Saturday night,long after the bakery is closed—long after I’ve tuckered myself out trying to spy on my newfound next-door neighbor, I decide to get dressed and head back out into the cold, dark world. All of his lights are out, and he hasn’t been home since I picked up Noel. He didn’t mention he was going out. Although he did look a little haggard, handsomely so. It’s not fair that even in his slightly disheveled, frustrated-with-the-world state, he still looks as if he should be selling underwear in print ads high above Manhattan. Anyway, he went out. And the fact he’s out and I’m home makes me feel ten times more like the old maid Holly keeps telling me I am. So I do the only thing I can. I put Noel on a leash, bundle up, and head for the tree lot. Really, I have no business staying home nights, not nights in December anyway. Nick needs all the assistance he can get this time of year. And with Holly home helping Savanah with her homework, Dad breaking his back at the lumberyard all day—thus basically incapacitated by four o’clock, and a mother who wouldn’t be caught dead at the tree lot in general, I’m his only hope as far as the family goes. It’s just Nick and a couple of high school kids he’s hired working it on their own.
The air is frosty as a snowman, yet the wind has thankfully died down. I’ve donned my warmest scarf and a ski jacket. And I’ve even put on a pair of doggie booties for Noel to wear so the snow doesn’t freeze her paws right off. The poor thing slips and slides her way out of the car as we head into the lot. I’ve got her bundled up as well in a nifty little Christmas sweater I bought at the Bow-Wow-Tique next to Pet Stop. It’s red and garish with a picture of a cat smoking a cigar while poking its head through a wreath. It’s the epitome of an ugly sweater, and I love every last hideous stitch about it.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” a deep voice calls from the front, and my mouth falls open as I find Graham headed this way with a Santa hat planted over his head.
So this is where he went! Ofcourse, he did. He’s always helped Nick this time of year, or he used to anyway. I guess there’s still some Gingerbread spirit left in Graham after all. Go figure.
He pauses shy of me and moans at the sight of Noel. “What did you do to my poor dog?” He scoops her up and begins plucking off her boots.
“That might be your dog, but that’s also my baby girl.” I run around snapping all the cute pink booties off the ground. “Hey, these things cost money. Some of us don’t have a tree in our living room that sprouts Benjamins, you know.”
“I’ll have you know I have to work for them myself.” He plucks at Noel’s snug red sweater before abandoning the effort and shaking his head my way while placing her back on the ground. She starts sniffing around, jumping and chomping at the bit to run right to the reindeer. “Looks like someone misses her friends. Nick says they get along great. Let’s take her on a playdate, shall we?” He hands me the leash.
I glance behind him and spot Nick helping out a client. “Fine,” I say as if he forced me into the idea, and the two of us make our way through a labyrinth of trees. Nick has a large tent set up that has always reminded me of a circus that houses a small sampling of trees in the event inclement weather prevents people from stalking out into the wild to pick their perfect evergreen. As a little girl, I’d dance a jig on the day that beautiful red and white tent went up, and my heart always broke a little on the day it came back down. The trees outside of the tent are legion, and, of course, are fair game to customers as well. With literally acres of nobles and firs to choose from, the Winters Tree Lot has inspired people to drive from all over this region of Colorado.
“So, what brings you to the lot?” he asks as we slow our pace. “You could have easily been snuggled up by a fire reading this little girl a bedtime story, and yet you chose to dress her funny and parade her around in this, a public display of misguided affection. It’s really quite humiliating for her. I hope you’re committed to paying for doggie therapy once she hits her teens.”
A light laugh bounces from me. “So you do admit she’s mine.” I can’t help but boast a gloating smile. “I called Dr. Clemson this morning, and he said no one has stepped forward to claim her yet. I told him that if they did, they’d have a legal battle on their hands for neglect. There’s no way I would let those louses have this sweet baby girl back. Do they have social workers for dogs? Because if they don’t, that should totally be a thing.”
Graham belts out a laugh just as we hit the corral in the back, and instantly Noel is flooded with a sea of toddlers who have all but abandoned their efforts at peeking at Santa’s snow patrol.
“She’s loving this!” I give a little hop as Noel licks up every little hand and face in turn. Several of their parents begin snapping pictures of her, so I let the leash go, and we watch as Noel does her thing. “Would you look at that? She’s a natural!” I glance over to Graham and do a double take. He’s not paying one bit of attention to Noel. He’s too busy looking at me. “What?” I touch my fingers to my cheek. “Do I have frosting on my face? In my defense, I was icing what amounts to the Empire State Building, and I’d better not say that too loud or Mayor Todd will have me building a replica of it for next year’s auction.”
“No,” he says it soft as his eyes gently caress my features. “You look perfect.” He tips his head toward the tiny cookie and cocoa stand set up to our right. It’s something Holly and I came up with when we were in high school. We would man it and make all the cookies and cocoa ourselves. I guess you could say this is the predecessor to the bakery. We’ve been baking our way to our destinies for quite some time now. There’s a bright red sign next to it that readsGet Your Reindeer Feed Here!“How about I buy you a cup of something hot?” he offers. “And if you’re good, I might throw in a cookie.”
We head over a few feet, and I don’t dare take my eyes off Noel. But for the most part, she’s doing her impression of the world’s most perfect yellow lab—actually freezing like a statue for pictures and keeping her head pointed at the camera.
“Geez,” I marvel. “She’s better at taking pictures than Savanah is. Don’t tell my sister I said that.” Although Holly would be the first to agree with me. I’ve been to almost all of Savy’s yearly photo shoots since she was one, and not once has she decided to cooperate with the photographer.
Graham strums a husky laugh as he exchanges his dollars for hot cocoa and hands me a mug with three pink marshmallows floating on top.
He takes a quick sip from his and moans. “That’s delicious.”
“It should be. I made it.” I point over to the candy cane cookies and ask for four. “Here.” I hand two over to Graham as we amble over to the fence while watching Noel. “You’re more naughty than you are nice, but I’m giving you a couple of treats anyway.”
He makes a face. “I’m nice. You just don’t realize it.”
“Ha! I don’t realize it because it’s never been displayed. Name one nice thing you’ve done all night.”
