She’d done the turrets and towers and chimneys.She’d done the beautiful façade.She’d done the insane, sprawling, Victorian layout.There were little wreaths and little snowmen and what I was fairly sure were candy cane structural supports.Light glowed inside the house, and I know you’re going to think I’m insane, but I swear to God when I looked through one of the windows, she’d somehow gotten a Christmas tree in there with tiny presents around it.
“Millie,” Fox breathed.
“This is so good,” Bobby said.
Keme blurted, “It’s perfect.”
I shook my head.All I could think about was how Millie loved to make things.About her homemade jewelry.All the beauty she managed to make out of ordinary, everyday things she found—things that everyone else overlooked.Somehow, I said, “I love it.”
“I made the windows by melting Jolly Ranchers,” Millie said with a smile.
“I think,” Indira said, pulling Millie into a hug, “we have a winner.”
4
The ice skating rink was new this year—they’d put it in the town square, next to the giant Christmas tree.It was only temporary, and they had to run some kind of coolant under the ice to keep it from melting (Hastings Rock had the charming ability to be bone-chillingly cold without actually, you know, dropping below freezing).I’d heard a few of the locals complain that it was an eyesore, but it honestly wasn’t too bad, and to judge by the crowds, it was doing what it was meant to do—bring in more winter tourists during Hastings Rock’s slow months.It was actually kind of magical, in my opinion—at night, with the lights from the big tree softening everything, Bing Crosby crooning over the loudspeakers, and everyone laughing and rosy-cheeked and happy.
“What do you mean you’ve never skated?”I said.“That’s impossible.”
“I’ve never gone ice skating,” Bobby said with a shrug.
“But that’s impossible!”
“Being angry is a good choice,” Fox told me as they laced their skates.
“I’m not angry,” I said.
“I’m just disappointed,” Fox finished dryly.
“I’m not—”
“They’re teasing you,” Bobby said.He’d already shucked his sneakers (these were daily wear, not his fancy ones), and he was wiggling his toes in his oh-so-straight white tube socks.Holding up the rented skates, he asked, “Do I just put these on and lace them up?”
“You’ve seriously never gone ice skating?”I asked.
Something hit me in the back of the head.
Keme cocked his arm, another cone from the big Christmas tree ready to throw.
“All right,” I said.“I get it.”
Keme pretended to throw.
“All right!”In a slightly more modulated voice, I said to Bobby, “Here, I’ll do it.”
I helped Bobby into the skates and tied them for him.He could have done it himself, of course, but it felt like the least I could do after my reaction to this latest revelation.Plus, I hardly ever get to do things for Bobby, and this felt cute and fun, like something out of a Christmas movie.
“That’s tighter than I would have expected,” Bobby said when I finished.
“Never?”I said.“For real?Never ever?”
“Is this a problem?”
“No, God, of course not.You’re just so—”
“Vietnamese?”
I burst out laughing and swatted his thigh.Then I began lacing up my own skates.“You’re so athletic.And you’re so good at everything.”
