“Okay.” A minute later she paused. “Do you know how many likes I normally get?”
I shook my head.
“Girl.” She looked down her nose at me.
By the time we were done, there were garlands strung on every railing. Between the baking rolls and the decorations, the whole house smelled like fresh-cut pine, cinnamon, and butter. Outside, we hung up strings of lights along the roofline and porch railings, and a wreath on the door. As a finishing touch, I plugged in an inflatable life-sized Santa being pulled in his sleigh by eight reindeer, which I’d found in the basement.
“It’s a holiday abomination,” Heaven said.
It was beautiful. The house was coming together. “It’s like Clark Griswold and Morticia Addams had a baby,” I said.
Heaven and I stood out front to get the full effect. As we watched, first one bat and then another flew from the eaves. “Where did those bats come from…and why are they leaving?” I asked, breathless.
The sky darkened with a cloud of bats, set in relief against a background of wispy, moonlit clouds. “Goodbye, bats.”
“Um…can some vampires shape-shift?”
She was basically just asking if we’d evicted a certain someone.
“Sure. And if he wants to leave, it’s his problem.” Although if Vlad could turn into a bat, that was news to me.
“But what happened?” I asked. “Why did they leave?” It certainly wasn’t the Bat Magic, which had turned out to be nothing but marketing.
Heaven shook her head. “Don’t ask me.” But then a smile quirked her lips. “Too much Chrithmas maybe?”
After she said it, I knew it was true. The essential oils, the Christmas music, the Christmas lights, and the baking. We had rehomed the bats with nothing but Christmas magic. Take that, Wayne Jarvis!
“Let’s go check on those cinnamon rolls,” I said, with the eagerness of someone who was able to eat one. I was so hungry, I just might. Ha, as if.
With a basket filled with plump rolls, I donned my red velvet cloak and headed out the door. Tyrone’s place was close enough to walk, but I took the hearse. For all its charm, the walkability score in rural Valentine was abysmal.
Tyrone’s house was a gorgeous log cabin nestled in a stand of trees, with a welcoming porch wrapped in twinkle lights and garlands. All of his farming equipment was parked out front: a snow mobile, a four-wheeler, and his St. Nicholas Farms pickup. He probably wore cute outfits to ride in each one.
Tyrone opened the door in a pair of sweatpants and a Transylvania County Fair T-shirt.
“Transylvania?” I read my homeland’s name on his T-shirt like it was a sign from God.
“Transylvania County, North Carolina,” he said, with an emphasis onNorth Carolina, which he drawled out more than usual.
“Are there vampires?” I stuttered a little.
He laughed like the idea was funny. “My hometown is all sugar and spice. Just like you, Tiff.” He pressed his hand to the small of my back and ushered me into his home.
Tyrone’s cabin was spacious and cozy all at once, an open concept design where the entryway moved right into the kitchen, which was separated from the living room only by an eating counter with barstools. In the living room, a mounted moose head loomed over the mantel, all jowly and dour, dead on the wall for eternity because it had a nice rack. A casual photo of a woman who looked like him sat by the TV.
“Is that your mom?” I asked, nodding toward the photo.
“Yeah. She thinks I’m crazy for living in Vermont. I was trying to get her to move up here, but it just ain’t her scene.”
“That’s too bad.” That’s when it struck me. “Where’s your Chrithmas tree?”
“Don’t tell anyone. I didn’t put one up,” he said sheepishly.
“Why? It would be so pretty in here.” And it would be. His cozy cabin would be even cozier. “Maybe you’re sick of trees?” I guessed.
“Not quite. I just don’t have anyone to decorate for.” He moved to the kitchen. “Would you like something to drink?”
I shook my head and sidled up to him. “I brought you a gift. You seemed sad earlier.”
