Laughing, they stopped at the car to put the snow globe away, then spent the rest of the afternoon spinning and sliding and, yes, falling. In love and on the ice.
Cindy simply couldn’t remember ever being this happy.
The metal door of the ice-skating rink’s snack bar squeaked as Benny and Red trudged in, helmets under their arms, skates clomping awkwardly across the rubber mats. Their cheeks were red from the cold, and Benny’s nose was running, but his grin was huge. He’d nailed his toy toss, and Red hadn’t fallen once during practice, so a solid victory.
They snagged the closest bench so Red didn’t wobble right to the floor. Benny helped him get out of his skates and then got their shoes from the locker.
“You hungry?” Red asked. “Because I smell buttered popcorn and hot chocolate, which have no right being together but pretty much seems like heaven right now.”
Benny nodded enthusiastically. “Throw in a soft pretzel, Grandpa?”
“Oh, child, you know me too well.” Red pulled out his wallet and handed Benny a twenty. “I’ll get a table.”
Benny scampered to the counter, bought the treats, and turned around holding a cardboard tray, scanning the tables for?—
Oh, wow. Olivia had watched the rehearsal? He’d seen Aunt Cindy and Uncle Jack, who’d taken a skate break to cheer them on, but not Olivia.
But there she was, at a table with Grandpa, yammering away. Not that Benny would call ityammering, but Red Starling sure would.
He headed to the table and set down the cardboard tray. “I didn’t get you anything,” he said to Olivia. “But do you want half of the pretzel?”
“No, thank you,” she said, flipping back one of her braids, which were like dark, curly spaghetti that was somehow neat and wild at the same time. “I’m here for business, not pleasure.”
Benny straightened his glasses as he slid into one of the other chairs, bracing himself for whatever she was up to now.
He picked up his pretzel, pulling it apart to share with Grandpa, ready for the first warm and salty bite.
Olivia slipped out of her puffer jacket, mittens dangling from the sleeves as she tossed it on the empty chair like she’d been invited for a long stay.
“What’s your business?” Grandpa asked, regarding her with a mix of amusement and fear—rightfully so—over the rim of his cup of hot chocolate.
Reaching into her jacket pocket, Olivia snapped out a piece of paper with color-coded graphs. Oh, no. When she color coded, she was not fooling around.
“I’ve been doing research,” she announced, flattening the sheet on the table. “Real, peer-reviewed, scientific research.”
Red snorted into his coffee. “That’s what you two said before the vinegar-and-baking-soda volcano flooded my garage.”
“That wasexperimentation,” Olivia corrected primly, shooting a look at Benny. “This is data. We were still learning, right, Benny?”
They were last spring when they’d been paired by the teacher for a project. Olivia had been “the new kid” at his school that semester, but they’d met over winter break at a dog training camp.
Ever since, she’d been Benny’s best friend, even though sometimes she made him crazy. They laughed more than they fought, and both loved the same books, movies, and, usually, experiments.
Then this whole dumb thing with her dad and his mom started and it changed everything because he felt like he was doing something Mom wouldn’t like. But Olivia was so…forceful.
Olivia’s eyes gleamed. “And what we’re learning now is romantic success factors.”
He nearly choked. “Olivia! I told you?—”
“Hear me out,” she said, raising a hand for silence. “Tomorrow night, your mom and my dad are building that gingerbread house together for Mistletoe on Main, right?”
He nodded,hatingwhere this was going.
“This is our big opportunity,” she said.
“We had our big opportunity,” he replied. “We made it happen by negotiating with the Eleanor lady.”
“Selling my soul and dignity in the process,” Red chimed in as he dipped his pretzel in mustard.
