Frank offers a curt nod and then slips a sealed envelope into Bob’s hands.
The room falls silent again, and tension rises.
I glance over at Storee. She’s holding Cindy’s hand, and Cindy is…good God, is her tongue dangling out of her mouth?
Taran is holding Cindy’s shoulders, and both sisters are brimming with excitement.
Ursula is standing proudly, chin held high, already accepting the win in her mind.
Beatrice is holding a rose, part of her rose-flavored eggnog—I can tell you who’ll be placed last.
And Jimmy is…God, he’s disgusting. He’s wiping his nose on the back of his hand and examining the result.
Max grips my shoulder and whispers, “No matter what happens, you’re still Snow Daddy to me.”
Christ.
Bob swipes his hand over his beard and speaks deeply, his voice booming through the bar. “Thank you all for coming. The Eggnog Wars always kick off the start of our Christmas Kringle search. We’d like to thank Frank and Thachary for hosting us this evening. They’re offering ten percent off all drinks tonight and fifteen percent off your entire purchase at Frank ‘n’ Scents. For a valid coupon, please see Renee at the bar and she will hand you one. Now, for the winner. As in years past, Frank and Thachary will add the winning eggnog concoction to their menu for next year—a true Kringletown honor.”
The crowd claps, and once the chatter dies down, Bob opens the envelope and pulls out the card with the names of the winners on it.
Here we go…here we go. First place goes to me!
He studies the list. His mustache twitches, and then he slowly looks up to the crowd. Having fun with everyone’s impatience, he scans the restless contestants and then glances down at his card again. In a booming voice, he announces, “In last place…” He pauses. “We have our very own…Dr. Beatrice Pedigree.”
Beatrice hangs her head but claps for herself along with the crowd.
Sorry, lady, but I called it. Rose and eggnog are not a combination anyone wants in their mouth.
When the crowd dies down, Bob once again scans the room and then, in a very William Shatner fromMiss Congenialityvoice—don’t ask how I know—says, “In fourth place…Jimmy Short.”
A round of soft applause rings through the room as Jimmy bows and then wipes his nose with the back of his hand again.
Dude, that’s one nasty habit—grab a napkin.
Once again, the room falls silent and I move from side to side, gearing up for what’s next.Come on, we’ve made it this far already. Please not third. Please not third.
“And in third place…”
Say Storee.
Say Storee.
He looks in my direction and my stomach bottoms out just before he says, “We have Ursula Kronk.”
Jesus Christ. Why did he have to look at me?
Bob Krampus with the old fake-out.
The town collectively gasps while I exhale sharply at how the reigning champion has been upstaged by two newbies.
I was hoping Storee would take third, but it’s fine—it’s fine.
I’m going to take this win home. I know it. I can feel it in my bones. I made one hell of an eggnog, and I didn’t make my aunt look sickly while doing it.
Dignity and merit. We’re winning the right way.
“And our first winner of the Christmas Kringle season is…”
