Artie coaxes, “You know, if you don’t have to cook, we’ll have more time to doother things. We can order one appetizer, one dessert, and two main dishes, Immy. I promise we’ll keep it on the cheap side—even though I’d spend a fortune on you if I could.”
He doesn’t understand that I feel a sense of accomplishment whenever I help him save money, whenever our household budget has more money for Laurel, more money for our future—but it is a special night. And thoseother thingsare so tempting. “I love the idea, but until Tessa is sure that Blase is really gone—”
“Mr. Minegold said he was going to try to talk to some people who knew more about krampus abilities, about how they move undetected through the cities and homes to take children. In the meantime, you know Tessa, Madge, and Mrs. Fenclan—that’s Mrs. Wickstaff’s mother, by the way—have put up so many wards in the town, and specifically around our house. I don’t think anything evil could get in. The River House is like ten minutes away by car. I’ll call ahead. I won't leave until I think it’s ready. I’ll be there and back, zip, zoom.”
“We could just wait.”
“We could. I will, if you really want that. I just hate to see one more big bully take away special things from you. From us. You deserve a beautiful wedding night dinner, a celebratory night for so many great things coming together. But we can wait.”
Artie’s words strike a nerve, even though he’s smiling sweetly as he rubs my back and reassures me he can be patient.
We’ve been patient for so long. Both of us endured a forced sort of patience, denied good things for so long, love, family, friendship...
“You go ahead. Ten minutes is fine, we can all go together.”
“OKAY, I CALLED, ANDthey said the food is ready.”
“All right. Let me get Laurel’s winter coat and—ooh! Ohh!” I go to pick Laurel up and am immediately greeted by a smile, a gurgle, and a parade of puke. I jump back, but it cascades down her front and lands all over the floor and my shoes.
“Ba!” Laurel says in a chirpy voice.
“She said Ba! Do you want ba-ba?” I ask. “Because you just barfed up your last one, kiddo.”
“Oh, babe.” Artie pauses in the midst of grabbing the diaper bag and runs for the paper towels.
“Da! Da!” Laurel smiles through the mess on her face.
“Dada! Da! Artie, she said Dada!” I cry.
Artie skids into the room, mouth open. “No way! She’s only six months old. Is she supposed to say her first words already?”
“She can! Some babies do.”
“Oh, my gosh! Baby girl! Yes, say Dada!”
Laurel blows bubbles.
It’s not a great time for her to do that. I wince, and Artie uses a paper towel on my face.
“You go get the food. I need to clean her and the rug,” I sigh.
“I can wait?”
“No, the food will get cold, and the pie will get warm. I’ll be okay for ten minutes.”
LAUREL LOOKS AT MEfrom her crib, rolling on her back and pulling on her hooves, her tiny tail lashing joyfully as she rocks back and forth, singing “Da ba da ba. Bababa. Dadada.”
“Okay, try Mama,” I whisper, laying out new clothes and peeking out the window of her room.
It’s a beautiful night. I know if we weren’t in a townhouse development, I would be able to see stars, pines, mountains, and the wide night sky. As it is, I see gentle flurries drifting down on lots of houses, twinkling Christmas lights, and bright blue and silver Stars of David shining in some windows. A car drives past withJingle Bell Rockblaring and a pine tree tied to the roof.
“We’re going to have to get a tree. And ornaments. Ooh, we can get those Baby’s First Christmas ornaments. I don’t know if we should get a smaller tree that goes on the coffee table or a bigger one. I bet you’ll be crawling any day now. You’re already rolling over, big g—”
Scrape.
My heart halts in my chest, and I realize that I haven’t seen Artie’s car come back yet.
So the sound from downstairs isn’t him.
