Never Sleigh Never, page 3
“I’ve known you for eight years now, and you concede to no one. I know you’ll put on the best festival this town has ever seen, and people will be like, ‘What carnival?’”
My shoulders slump. I want to believe her. I don’t doubt my abilities, but Logan Crawford has always been my kryptonite. If he and I are involved in anything that puts people on a podium, he’s always at the top.
“You’re Brie McKenna. You always rise from the ashes like a unicorn.”
“Don’t you mean phoenix?”
“Unicorns are more fun. They have a horn for spearing. Anyway, don’t sweat it. Just do what you do best, and kick ass. It’s like that time when Mrs. Peterson was choking on her donut at the diner, and you jumped to your feet and gave her the Heimlich and saved her life. Your quick thinking did that.”
Well, Mrs. Peterson being the town’s treasurer, I needed her alive so she could write me a check for the 4th of July parade. I exhale a deep breath. “But seriously, this day has already turned into a flaming bag of dog shit, and fast. Like kerosene dumped on the bag. Explosion.” The whooshing sound of a toilet flushing ricochets off the tile walls. With the phone still to my ear, I spin to where the sound originated, and I freeze like a baby deer. The far stall door opens, and Mrs. Peterson emerges. Maybe if I don’t move, she won’t see me. She strolls to the sink and washes her hands.
“Brie? Brie, are you still there?” Sloane says through the phone.
“I’m not alone,” I whisper.
Mrs. Peterson dries her hands with a paper towel. When I think she’s going to walk past me, she stops. Her floral perfume lingering in the air. “Don’t forget about Margaret’s phallic-shaped cookies she tried to pass off as lighthouses. We all know they weren’t lighthouses.”
I pinch my lips together and nod in a silent agreement.
She pats my forearm. “You go kick their ass,” she whispers, then glides out like a benevolent gossip fairy.
“Brie? What’s going on? Who are you talking to?” Sloane asks.
As soon as the door closes behind Mrs. Peterson, my heart thumps back to life. I sag against the tile wall. There’s a good chance the entire town will know about my run-in with Logan by noon, and I’m not prepared for all the questions they’ll have.
“Brie? Answer me or I’m calling 911.”
“Yeah. I’m here.”
Note to self: Always check the bathroom stalls.
Three
Tater Tot Hotdish
Logan
Brie McKenna. For everyone else, she wears a sunshine smile, yet around me, she flips the setting to permafrost. Now, eighteen years later, nothing has changed—except she’s somehow more beautiful. As she glared her ice queen daggers in my direction, there was still a little sparkle in her eye. Perhaps she’s daydreaming that one of those daggers takes me out. But for a split second with her body pressed against mine, hands on my chest—her guard slipped. If I had to guess, it’s because she didn’t know whose arms she’d fallen into.
She always hated me. I’m not sure why. That’s not entirely true. In elementary school, I might have saved all the open swings for my friends. And I would always get picked for the lead in the school play. Also, during the music class lip-sync battles, I always picked the song she wanted to perform. Nothing is more entertaining than three boys singing and dancing to “...Baby One More Time” by Britney Spears. The class enjoyed it; Brie not so much because everyone was over the song when it was her turn.
It seems, even after all these years apart, that hatred has never left. Sure, the population of Mount Holly has slightly increased since I left, but it’s still not big enough for us to avoid each other. This will make for a very interesting holiday.
From the side of the road, I stare as her taillights vanish over the crest of the hill. If she plans on going back to town, she’s driving in the wrong direction, but I’m sure she knows that.
“Hey boss!” Matt, a hired worker, yells. “Where do you want this?”
I twist to face him. He points to a large, enclosed trailer. “Put it in the far corner.” I nod toward the northwest side of the field. Is it a wild idea to come to Mouth Holly and organize a Christmas carnival and have it up and running in three weeks? Yep. I’ve also been sitting on this for two years. It’s now or never. A line of idling trucks sits on the freshly laid gravel, white exhaust curling into the cold like thought bubbles. I play conductor in a hard hat, sending crews to their marks. Thankfully, I’ve got a site diagram with placements for the big stuff—games, food row, and Santa’s pavilion. On the south side of the field is my favorite add-on. The ice rink. As a professional hockey player from Minnesota, the “State of Hockey,” it only made sense. Plus, what kind of holiday celebration would it be without a hockey tournament?
Several hours later, the sun dips below the horizon and stars twinkle above us. With the back of my hand, I wipe the layer of sweat off my forehead. Day one is in the books. I’m exhausted, but there’s more work to do tomorrow. I walk the perimeter to confirm everything is locked and secured. Mount Holly doesn’t have a reputation for criminal activity. In fact, it’s a community where most people leave their doors unlocked, but I’ve lived in the city for the past eighteen years, and I’m not taking any chances.
I pull my truck into the driveway of my parents’ light-blue colonial-style house. Not much has changed over the years, only a bigger porch and new landscaping. I kill the engine and push open the door. My boots crunch over the thin crust of snow leading to the cement walkway. I jog up the few stairs until I reach the front door. I rap my knuckles against the wood before twisting the knob and stepping through. Before I can close the door behind me, a pair of arms wrap around me in a comforting hug. The scent of vanilla and sugar waft around me. My mom. If I had to guess, she’s been in the kitchen baking all day.
“I’m so happy to see you.” Her head rests against my chest.
“I saw you two days ago,” I murmur, hugging her back.
“I know, but I never get to see you twice in one week, and now it’s permanent.”
Before the move, my mom and stepdad flew to Chicago to travel back to Mount Holly with Josie. They helped her tour her new school while I wrangled movers so I could make the drive to Northern Minnesota. While Josie is used to moving, the dynamic of a big city to a small town is a big change for an eleven-year-old, but it’s one that will be best for both of us.
Mom pulls away and leads me into the living room. Josie’s curled against the armrest of the couch next to my stepdad, John, who’s in the recliner. When my mom told me about a house two streets over on the market, I immediately called the realtor. We did a video walkthrough, and with no hesitation, I bought it. Being close to my parents was a big selling point to move back to Mount Holly. Josie needs stability in her life, and my parents can help give her that. Plus, they adore their granddaughter, so they were more than willing to help.
Josie stops mid-page flip from the Home for the Holidays magazine. It’s the same magazine she always looked through with her mom. They’d scour every page to find the most beautiful tree or the location with the best decorations. Every year, they have a “Favorite Hometown Christmas” competition. Josie’s mom mentioned wanting to enter as soon as the carnival was up and running. But not the inaugural year—she wanted all the kinks ironed out first.
Josie glances up, and her eyes widen. “Daddy!”
The magazine tumbles to the floor as her big, bright hazel eyes meet mine. She launches herself at me. As far as looks go, it’s the only thing she got from me. Everything else is all Brooke, including her sass and her big heart. All the same things that made me fall in love with her fourteen years ago.
Bending down, I hoist her into my arms.
“Hey Peanut.”
“I missed you, Daddy.” Her arms cling around my neck like a spider monkey.
“I missed you too. Did you get to see your new school?”
She nods. “I did. It’s much smaller than my old one.”
“Highland Park has a lot more people than Mount Holly.” I press a kiss to the top of her head.
John stands from the armchair and wraps his arms around my shoulders and pats my back. “Good to see you, Logan. I can’t tell you how excited we are to have you permanently back in Mount Holly. Only seeing you and Josie a few times a year was never enough.”
“Yeah.” I try for a smile that doesn’t quite make it. “I’m excited to be back.”
“Your voice says otherwise,” my mom says.
She could always read me. She calls it a mother’s intuition. I call it creepy.
“Hey Josie,” my mom turns to Josie, “why don’t you get one of the cookies we baked earlier for your dad?”
“Okay!” I set Josie on her feet, and she skips into the kitchen, her blonde ponytail bouncing behind her.
When she’s out of sight, my mom turns to me and rests a hand on my forearm. “I know it’s hard. It’ll always be hard. But we want to be here for you and Josie. For anything. With you only living five minutes away instead of an eight-hour drive, it makes it easier.”
“It’s kind of the reason I wanted to move back. Thanks for finding me a house.”
“Luckily, Mr. Bernstein was selling. The sun was calling his name, but mostly, he was over the cold.” Mom shrugs.
I nod. “And it appears most of the town doesn’t know.”
“We tried to keep it as hush-hush as we could, but you know Mount Holly. It doesn’t take long for the Gigis to snatch a whisper out of the air, and once word is out, it’s like head lice. Pretty soon, it’s all over town. You’d think they’d find a new hobby.”
“In a few years you’ll be sitting at the same table as the Gigis.” John nudges Mom with his elbow.
She laughs. “You’re probably right, but good thing that day isn’t today.”
“Did you get things settled?” John asks.
“Almost. We made some good progress on the carnival. Also, thanks for finding that piece of land.”
“Good. I thought something on the outskirts of town might be easier. Less red tape.”
“It’s perfect.” I drag a hand over my jaw. “I had a nice, friendly run-in with Brie McKenna this morning. It wasn’t the welcome party I was expecting.” I fight the grin tugging at my lips as memories of her tangled in my arms rush back.
“Oh! How is Brie?” Mom’s eyes light up. “I always liked her. She’s such a sweet girl. And her parents live next door. I see her when she visits them. She’s even helped me shovel the driveway a few times.”
Shit. Looks like I’ll be seeing her more than just around town. “Are we talking about the same Brie McKenna? Because she must have left her sweet at home.” Or maybe she reserves that for people she doesn’t hate.
“She’s in charge of the Holly Jolly Festival this year,” Mom says.
I nod. “So I’ve heard.”
Josie reappears with a stack of cookies and passes one to each of us. “I made these all by myself! They’re chocolate chip.”
“You did?” I take the cookie from Josie.
“Yup!”
“Thanks, I’m starving.” The cookie’s halfway to my mouth before my mom plucks it out of my grasp. “Hey! I was gonna eat that.”
“I’ll make you a plate of hotdish. Then you can have your cookie.”
“Or I can have the cookie to tide me over.”
“Dinner first, then dessert.” My mom disappears around the corner.
I glance at John, who takes a bite of his cookie and shrugs. I salivate as crumbs fall to the front of his shirt. “I’m a little envious of you right now.”
“Grandma wouldn’t let me have a cookie until after dinner,” Josie says.
“Well, at least she’s consistent.” I stroll into the kitchen just as the microwave dings. Mom slides a steaming plate of tater tot hotdish across the kitchen island. When people talk about comfort food, tater tot hotdish is like a warm fire on a chilly night. Ground beef, cream of mushroom, onion, corn, cheese, and tater tots all baked together until the tots are golden brown. It reminds me exactly of home. My mom. It’s something Brooke would never dream of making. Being a professional athlete, I always had to watch what I ate. Sure, I would indulge now and then, but nothing like this. Shoving a forkful into my mouth, I moan. “Thanks. I never realized how much I missed your hotdish until now.”
“Now that you’re back, we’ll have a lot more dinners together.” She spins around and puts the clean dishes from the strainer into the cupboard.
No complaints here. I clear the plate with the speed of a power play. When I’m finished, I glance down, half tempted to pick up my plate and lick it clean. It was that good. But I think otherwise, mostly to avoid the motherly glare she’d give me because she taught her son better manners than that. I set my fork down and push my plate away.
“Now you can have your dessert.” She swaps the plate for the cookie.
Finally. I take a big bite. My teeth sink into the soft, delectable, and unapologetically perfect baked good. While I continue eating my dessert, Mom rinses off the plate before placing it in the bottom rack of the dishwasher.
“You know they make dishwashers where you don’t have to do that,” I say.
“I’m not convinced it would get it clean.”
“You’d be surprised. They have jets that could strip paint.”
“I like my dishwasher the way it is.”
John enters the kitchen. “That’s what I keep telling her as well.” He wraps his arms around my mom.
“If it’s not broken, it doesn’t need replacing.” While reaching behind her, he grabs another cookie from the counter. She spins around and spears him with a look. He shrugs.
I shove the last half of the cookie into my mouth.
Josie climbs onto the stool next to me. “Did you like it?”
“Mmm.” I rub my belly as I chew. “There’s no way you made these. Where’s the cookie container?” I pretend to look around the kitchen.
“I did!” She giggles. “Grandma was my helper.”
“In that case, I’m hiring you for the carnival bakery. You’re on cookie duty for Christmas.”
Her eyes go wide. “That’s a lot of cookies.” She tilts her head. “What’s the Holly Jolly Festival?” She takes a bite of her cookie.
“It’s Mount Holly’s Christmas festival. There are games, food, and Santa,” Mom answers.
Josie turns to me. “Like the carnival?”
“Similar,” I say carefully.
“Who’s Brie McKenna?”
Of course she overheard; she hears everything. “A girl I grew up with.”
“She’s your friend?”
I rub my neck. How do I translate academic nemesis turned firecracker with a vendetta to an eleven-year-old? “I wouldn’t say friend. We… went to school together. Since Mount Holly is so small, we saw a lot of each other.” Josie nods along. I hope she buys what I’m selling her. In case she doesn’t, I change the subject. “Unfortunately, only half the things for the house showed up. Is it okay if Josie stays another night or two? Just until everything arrives, and she’s not living out of boxes. I’m hoping to have the house together before Thanksgiving.”
“Of course,” my mom says. She’d never complain about spending more time with her granddaughter. I’m sure she feels as if she has years to make up for. A life of professional hockey didn’t grant me too much free time.
“Thanks. Maybe we can have Thanksgiving at my house then.”
“We can certainly host here as well.” My mom leans against the counter.
I wrap an arm around Josie’s shoulder and glance down. “Are you okay with staying with Grandma and Grandpa for a couple more days?”
She nods. “Yes!”
“There’s a craft fair in Twin Falls we can go to,” my mom adds.
Josie springs to attention. “Yay!” She rushes to my mom and wraps her arms around her.
“Alright, I’m going to head home.” I walk to the entryway and slide my feet into my shoes.
My mom follows close behind. “Have you seen anyone else yet?”
“Only Brie. I’ve been a little busy.” A humorless laugh escapes me. “Busy” is an understatement. Organizing a carnival in three weeks is crazy. But I started it, and I need to see this through now.
“I’m sure everyone will be excited to see you.”
I give her a tight-lipped smile and nod. Seeing all my old friends will be great. Another run-in with Brie… that’s still up for debate. I wrap my arms around her shoulders. “Thanks again for watching Josie.”
“It’s no trouble at all.”
The cold air hits me as soon as I open the door. I jam my hands in my pockets as I stride to my truck. I let it idle for a few minutes before reversing out of the driveway. Rows and rows of houses pass by. Some already don decorations for Christmas while others remain naked. Surely after Thanksgiving, the rest of the neighborhood will hop on the holiday bandwagon. As I approach my house, instead of braking, I step on the gas. The night’s still young. One drink at the Crooked Reindeer won’t kill me. My old high school friend Simon owns the place, so it will be good to reminisce with some familiar faces. Also, perhaps it’s better if I avoid falling asleep with Brie as my last thought.
Four
First Meat
Brie
The Crooked Reindeer—“the Deer” to the locals, is bustling tonight. But it always is when it’s meat raffle night. The town could be under a blizzard warning, and no one would stay home for fear of missing a chance to win ten pounds of bratwurst. The chatter from the crowd overpowers the music playing on the jukebox. Luckily, everyone in town has been too preoccupied with tonight’s festivities to gossip about the news of Logan’s return. Unfortunately, it’s still engrained in my brain.
