“Do you like that?” a voice behind me asked.
Humming, I spoke without thinking. “If it were in the auction, I’d bid for it.”
“The items in the auction are far nicer.”
“No.” My voice was quiet and gruff. “This is Christmas.”
The silence that followed seemed jarring, and the lights, sounds, and chaos of the town came rushing in all at once,startling in its tenor. The ornament fell against the pine needles as I let it go and turned, startled once more by the man standing just behind my shoulder.
Scowling, I asked, “What are you doing here?”
“As if my mother would let me stay home.” Toby scoffed. “Believe me, I tried.”
“You couldn’t find somewhere else to lurk?”
“I was hanging an ornament on the tree…”
That reminded me that I was supposed to be doing the same. Turning back around, I raised the bells and draped them on the first empty branch I found. If my mother wanted something more aesthetic, then she could find herself a ladder.
“That branch won’t hold those,” he commented, still hanging out over my shoulder.
Why won’t he just go away?
“Yes, it will,” I growled.
“No. They’re too heavy. You need a thicker one.”
“Don’t tell me about my trees. I know more about them than you do.”
“Fine.”
I tried to roll my eyes all the way around to look at him because did he just agree? It was a Christmas miracle.
Grunting, I let go of the bells. The branch drooped, and the bow slid off, the entire ornament hurtling toward the ground. I moved fast, but not to catch the bells. The Santa had been knocked loose when the branch snapped back.
It fell into my hand, and oddly, I wondered if perhaps it was made out of felt and not wool.
“I told you,” Toby the Terrible snarked, bending down to grab the bells off the floor.
Ignoring him, I hung the Santa back where it had been and then turned for the bells, which were gripped in his mitten-covered hands.
“Grown men don’t wear mittens.” I insulted him.Even if they do look cute wrapped around his hands.
“I guess they do because I am,” he clapped back.
Twisting my lips, I reached for the ornament so I could hang it and get the hell out of here. Just before I could pluck them away, he closed his fist around them.
“You like that ornament a lot,” he said, gazing past me to where the Santa hung.
“What makes you say that?”
“You let yours fall on the ground to save that one instead.”
“It’s rude to let someone else’s stuff get damaged,” I explained.
Toby pursed his lips. “I think you like it.”
“So?” I muttered, reaching once again for the bells.
