“I see it. I see it all... so big and bright. I wish I could wrap my arms around it and take it home with me.”
“Just take me home. It’s all there, inside me. I promise.”
“I believe you.”
They kissed.
“OK, OK. Break it up, you two,” May said. “No public displays of affection. There are kids present.”
George and Mikey both glared at her with synchronized eye-rolls.
She raised her hands in mock surrender. “Just kidding! Jeez.”
“I say we counter their PDA with one of our own,” said Rachel, coming up and squeezing May from behind, nuzzling her neck.
“Ooh! You’re freezing. Stop it!”
“Only if you buy me a hot chocolate and whatever that deliciousness is that I smell.”
The three of them looked to George for clarity. George sniffed at the air. “Um, fried sugar, I’m certain... and cinnamon. Funnel cakes? Churros? Your guess is as good as mine.”
“You two up for some cocoa?” said May, her breath pluming around her words. “Rachel and I will get us something.”
“Sounds good,” said Mikey. “But go easy on the sweets. I have a surprise after this.”
“Really?” she asked. “What?”
George looked at him. “She’s the most impatient person on the planet, you know.”
“You’ll see,” Mikey said, teasing. He pointed. “We’re going to continue walking that way, toward the giant Santa.”
Rachel nodded. “We’ll catch up.”
* * *
They continued walking on the sidewalk next to glimmering row houses, past the smaller lit facade of a gingerbread house, with at least twenty old-fashioned blow molds in the front yard.
“Those are mid-twentieth century, at least,” George said. “Look at them.”
“Do you think they’re real? I mean—”
“—authentic? Who knows? They’re plastic, so they could have lasted that long. But look at the colors on that snowman... so bright. They’ve probably either been refurbished or replicated, I would imagine.”
“Such a simpler time... long ago. It’s romantic, don’t you think, George? Imagine if we’d lived back then.”
“You’re being nostalgic—for a time you didn’t know, babe. It’s sweet, in a Donna Reed kind of way, but we’re much better off now, believe me.”
“Who’s Donna Reed?”
“She’s the actress inIt’s a Wonderful Life.”
Mikey’s eyes grew wide. “I love that movie. It’s Christmas. We should watch it together.”
“I’m game. She also had a TV show in the late 50s. She was a pretty and perfect housewife, with a really cute husband. Carl something... he died young.”
Mikey picked up on George’s reflective reverie. The double meaning of those last three words hovered.
