Naughty is the New Nice
Missy
Alight sprinkling of snow dusted the ground this morning, just enough to refresh that shaken snow globe appeal Gingerbread holds so strong to. Mother Nature would hate to displease the tourists with a town filled with slush and a muddy river running down Main Street. I’d have to agree with her there.
It’s day three of sharing Noel with Graham—my official new neighbor. I’ve been taking the brunt of the sleepless nights, and he has the carefree mornings and afternoons when she’s reduced to a playful, cuddly pile of fluff.
I frown over at my sister, Holly, without meaning to. We’ve just wrapped up a two-hour session of working on those gingerbread monstrosities, and right about now, we’re both seeing gingerbread stars. The bakery is bustling, the ovens are on nonstop, and it’s a hot house in here.
Holly wrinkles her nose at the dueling dollhouses. “Whose idea was it to build a Barbie mansion out of flour and molasses?”
“Yours,” I flatline. It’s true. Holly came up with the idea after her daughter, Savanah, said she’d love to climb inside one of our standard gingerbread houses—the ones that you could no more stick your foot in let alone a body. “But you were right. It’s going to be a big hit, and I know Mayor Todd’s twins are going to love, love,loveit.” I try to muster up the enthusiasm she exuded when she spoke those exact words to me a month ago.
“Are you kidding?” She leans into the chrome alongside the freezer and does a quick check of her mulberry stained lips. “Savanah is trying to convince Todd to purchase the one up for auction. And if the price on that thing skyrockets the way I’m thinking it will, we’ll be homeless if we win it.”
“You tell Savy to put it on her Christmas list. I bet she’s got a crazy aunt who would pull a few late nights to make sure all of her gingerbread dream house wishes come true.”
“What about Noel?” Her brows arch into her forehead as her concern for my sweet pooch rises. Holly is just as in love with Noel as I am.
“She has a daddy. And, believe me, it wouldn’t hurt said daddy to experience the pain of a few sleepless puppy nights once in a while. That alone will abolish all thoughts of stealing Noel away to Manhattan once he’s through with Colorado. Besides, Noel would hate living in a penthouse—what with all the dog walkers, being forced to jog through Central Park rain or shine? I bet they don’t even give their dogs water out there. They go straight for the caffeinated stuff. Starbucks on tap.”
Holly sighs with a dreamy look on her face. “Do you think I can get Graham to take me back to New York with him? I bet I can convince that dog walker to make a left on Fifth Avenue. And, if I asked real nicely, I bet Graham would give me all access to his American Express Black Card.”
A breath gets caught in my throat at the thought of Graham having something so exclusive, so breathtakingly dangerous as a credit card with no legal limit. “Wow”—I marvel with a dark laugh—“did Ieverset Sabrina Jarrett up with just the right guy.”
“What!” Holly squawks so loud half the customers crane their necks this way. Jenna gives a subtle wave for us to keep it down. Thank heavens for Jenna and the extra hands on deck. Holly and I would never be able to manage this place on our own. But more helping hands means more paychecks to write, and with frenemies like Sabrina eating away all our profits, who needs to stay open?
“Don’twhatme.” I glance out toward the indoor patio where Sabrina is hosting yet another book club meeting, the one in which they discuss their next juicy romp through literature. I know more about the workings of Sabrina’s social clubs than I do the workings of the lumberyard—and the lumberyard has been in my family for years. “Look at her.” I nudge my sister in the shoulder as we stare over at the redheaded hellion laughing it up while stuffing her face with a handful of hazelnut crinkle cookies that I just pulled out of the oven this morning. As soon as she saw me loading those delectable delights onto the tray, she demanded three batches—myentireinventory. “Do you think she cares about the price of hazelnuts this time of year? No. Sabrina is a drain on our budget, and the sooner we find someone to take her off our hands the better off we’ll be financially. You might even be able to buy a real dollhouse for Savanah. Who knows? She and Graham might even fall in love. If he happens to whisk her off to New York for good, you won’t find me shedding a tear.”
“Ditto to that.” Holly digs her fists into her hips as she tilts her head toward Sabrina and the book tour she’s sponsoring. “I don’t know. I guess I always thought you and Graham might end up together one day.”
“What?” My entire body bucks in protest. “And live a life full of torment and misery while you grow happily old with Todd? I’d pull my hair out before I was thirty. And I’d lose my sanity long before that. Nope. Graham Holiday and I arenotdestined to be together. Trust me, I know these things. I have a gift, remember? You’d think I’d be the first to realize it if he were the one for me.” My stomach clenches as if I just spewed a bucket full of lies, and I can’t help but glare at it a moment. My phone goes off, and it’s a text from Graham himself.
Headed to Angelino’s for a quick bite. Want to join me? Nick’s babysitting Noel. Is that okay with you, Mom?
“Ha!” I balk at his text as I share it with Holly. “He’s already clocking out on the job. Clearly, he’s not cut out to be a father. And lucky for him, Sabrina wants nothing to do with anything in its infantile stages—puppy or human.”
I start to text back, then stop cold. “Wait a minute. I shouldn’t be the one meeting up with him at Angelino’s. I think there’s a certain redheaded super-charged diva who is more than willing to fill my stilettos while scarfing down pizza with Graham.”
“You don’t wear stilettos,” Holly is quick to point out, and I scoff at her as I type up a reply.
“Head on over. I’ll try my best to make it!” I read my response out loud as I hitSend, and he replies in less than a second.
Already here.
“Well then.” I look to my sister. “Let the fun begin!”
“Oh, what are you up to?” A string of worry lines appears on her forehead, and I flick them with my finger as I stride on past her. “Ow! I hate it when you do that.”
“You’ll thank me when you’re line-free at sixty.” I head to the counter and wave Sabrina over from her cackling session. I spot the treats piled high on their table and note the hazelnut crinkle cookies have already been devoured. In their place sits a small mountain of snowcapped brownies. It takes everything in me not to overturn the tray of sugar cookies in front of me. The snowcapped brownies are made with only the best ingredients, one of them being chocolate chips imported from Belgium.
Sabrina huffs and puffs her way over, her discontent with me only growing in exaggeration with every stomping step. Sabrina is the epitome of a three-year-old in a grown woman’s body. I honestly can’t see the appeal she holds to that motley crew of hers.
“What is it?” she snips. “Do you have a book recommendation? Because if you don’t have a book rec, I don’t see the point of this little tête-à-tête. There are book boyfriends to be had, and we’re in the process of hunting them down.”
“I don’t have a book recora book boyfriend—but I have something far better. Arealboyfriend waiting for you at Angelino’s across the street. He’s only the world’s handsomest, wealthiest, biggest success story that Gingerbread has ever seen.”
She sucks all of the oxygen out of the room with one enormous breath. “You mean Graham Holiday is waiting for me?”
