Right. “Well, that’s okay.”
“What’s the prize? I need to know the stakes.” Jace’s deep voice is clear, even above the Christmas music blaring over the speakers about a grandma getting run over by a reindeer.
“A massage,” I answer quietly, suddenly embarrassed even though I have no reason to be. I bet Jace could give a great massage. My charged brain registers the thought that immediately entered my head when he asked, and I realize that’s why I was embarrassed. I was pre-embarrassed, which seems fitting. I pick up some marshmallows to make a snowman.
“Oh, well, you need that. It goes to you, no question. Besides, whatever it was, I was going to give it to you anyway.” The soft grin he gives me is intoxicating. “I mean, they do have couples massages,” he starts again and gives me another wink.
The idea of him in a towel or with just a sheet covering his muscles causes my hands to jerk, sending a marshmallow shooting straight for Clark’s forehead. Emmy laughs, and I cover my mouth with my hands.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to . . .” I trail off while Clark shakes off the makeshift missile and adds Jace and Emmy to his clipboard.
“No bother. They can be slippery. I’ve got you all down. Now, get to work.” He looks about the space and pivots away while yelling, “Ten minutes gone, people!”
I cringe, turning back to Jace, and see his eyes dancing with amusement. “If I had known the idea would affect you so much, I would’ve said it sooner.”
At this, I laugh and give him the bag of royal icing. “C’mon, Bear, we have a house to build.”
For the next fifty minutes, we construct the greatest gingerbread house I’ve ever seen. We end up with not only a house but a multi-story home. Jace even creates gingerbread furniture off the back patio and a chimney for Santa. Emmy builds the snowman and lays out the snow scene, using gumdrops for Christmas lights. I make a Christmas tree out of candy for the inside. It lights up, because Jace, of course, knows how to wire some lighting with the materials provided—materials that I’ve never thought to use before. To top it all off, he makes windowpanes with a hot plate and sugar, a tool I wouldn’t even begin to know how to use.
In short, when we stand back to admire our work, it’s incredible. And if we don’t win the competition, it’s got to be rigged. This is a gingerbread house for the ages.
“I think we make a good team.” Jace’s smooth voice is the powdered sugar to my royal icing.
“I’d say so.”
“Whoa,” Emmy exclaims, awed. I don’t blame her. She peeks through the windows, and I look at the clock.
“And hands up! You’re done!” Clark yells. A groan comes from the participants around us. Instead of complaining about the shortness of our construction time, I’m counting my blessings that the massage will soon be mine. I can already smell the essential oil and feel the imprint of hot stones on my spine.
“Now, our esteemed judging panel will be coming around to judge. Don’t go anywhere, folks.”
Jace crouches down to give Emmy a high five. “Good job, Emmy Bear.” He stands and holds up his hand for a high five from me as well, but when I smack my palm against his, he holds my hand in place and slowly rubs his thumb against mine. The contact is so minuscule, anyone else would miss it, but it instantly sends heat down my arm. He releases my hand, and I rub the spot that he touched, willing it to hold the sensation.
After five minutes—or ten—the panel of judges that includes Clark, Ronald from the general store, and Annabelle from It’s Art huddles in the center. Liam stands in the corner of the room with the speaker and his cat, A-cat-pella—the unofficial mascot of our town—as he lowers the music for dramatic effect. When they whisper to him, Liam lifts his hand for attention.
“The votes are in, Birch Borough. And the winner of this event, for the first time, is Miss Jones!”
“Is that Miss Ivy?” Emmy looks at Jace, who nods. She squeals. I join her, jumping up and down. Jace lets out a whoop and wraps an arm around my waist while scooping up Emmy with his other arm. We’re hopping from the excitement, only slowing when Clark hands me an envelope. Victory is sweet. I lean back against Jace, my smile enough to power the whole room. I register enthusiastic claps as my friends and their husbands gather around the table. Grey steps back, motioning for us to look at her and smile.
We agree, and she snaps the picture. Even without seeing it, I immediately want to print the photo and frame it. My parents appear beside us. In the pressure of constructing the perfect gingerbread house, I’d missed their arrival, but Gram has already joined them.
“That’s how we do it!” Dad yells, and Gram is doing a fist-bump motion into the air.
“I love this for us!” Mom adds as if it’s a collective win. “I can add the photo to the inn’s gallery wall. What a treat!”
I’m laughing and smiling as I peek up at Jace. He’s staring down at me. “Congrats, Starlight.” He pulls me a little closer, and I lean into him again, grateful for his strength, thrilled I have him here. His face grows blurry from the emotion stinging my eyes. The scene is so domestic, so very Christmas, that I want to hold on to it forever.
The only thing that could make this moment better is if my brother were here. A man walks toward my table, leaning down to look at our prize-winning gingerbread house. My eyes still blurry, I blink to clear them, thinking sadly that the newcomer resembles my brother in a lot of ways. I freeze as something familiar hits me. It can’t be.
“Freddie?” I release Jace, leaning forward to confirm that I’m seeing him, dressed in his Marine uniform, a smile on his face as he turns to greet me.
“Hey, sis,” he says, and I squeal, nearly knocking over the table to get to him.
I jump into his arms and hold on tight. His sturdy frame is comforting; memories of the nights we used to camp out together in our living room and watch Christmas movies together resurface as I pull him closer. He only gets holiday block leave on occasion. It’s been a few months since we’ve seen each other, and we weren’t sure if he’d be able to make it home in time for Christmas.
“You’re home!” I yell, tears flowing freely now. I’m so happy I feel like my heart might not be able to contain it. Releasing him, I look at his face, noticing it’s slightly more weathered than the last time I saw him. “For how long?” I wipe my eyes.
Freddie gives me his signature grin. “Until just before New Year’s.”
