How My Neighbor Stole Christmas

All was very quiet, not even a squeak of a mouse,

while Storee tiptoed over the snow back to her house.

The plan was simple: to sneak in without detection

and go upstairs to hide her hickey-covered complexion.

Slowly and quietly I close the front door, my shoulders tense, my body sore, and my mind still wishing I was in Cole’s warm bed rather than in Aunt Cindy’s house. It was risky, spending the night with him, but even though I protested at first, deep down I wanted to stay. I wanted to have the night we had. I wanted to fall asleep in his arms only for him to wake me up with kisses.

And when his alarm went off this morning, I was entirely too reluctant to get out of bed, but Cole helped me, encouraged me, and then watched me hop through the snow to get back to Aunt Cindy’s house. And now that I was able to make it undetected—

“What are you doing?”

I freeze, my back stiffening from the sound of my sister’s voice.

Shit.

Apparently not undetected.

Think of something and think quick.

I turn toward my sister, who is on the base of the stairs looking stiff with her pajamas askew and her ponytail barely tied together. “Checking to see what kind of snow we got last night. Does this shit ever stop?”

I see her glance out the window, then back at me. Arms crossed, she studies me for a moment, causing sweat to form at the nape of my neck. Then she says, “It’s winter in the mountains. You can expect this every day.”

Some of the tension eases.

“I just thought that maybe we would catch a break,” I say as I flip my hair over my shoulder.

“Oh my God, what happened to you?” Taran points at my shoulder where Cole bit me last night.

Crap!

“Is it a bruise?” I ask, deciding not to play dumb and just own up to the mark.

“Yes.”

I nod as I casually let the lies flow. “This is embarrassing, but I was really excited that I nailed the routine yesterday. I tried to have a quiet celebration to myself in my room last night and ended up jumping, hitting the mirror on the dresser, and it crashed down on my shoulder.” Holy crap, I can lie fast. “I’m surprised you didn’t hear it. I groaned.”

“Oh, I was on the phone with Guy, and we were…well…anyway.” She studies me. “Did you ice it?”

“Too embarrassed. Looks like I have to suffer now.”

She nods…still studying me. A stretch of silence falls between us before she says, “You seem happy.”

Because I spent the night with Cole, and neither of us wanted to sleep. Instead, we’d sleep for an hour, wake up and play around, then sleep, then fuck…and before I left, he fucked me up against the door. I can still feel him all over my body.

“Relieved is more like it.” I lean against the front door as Taran stays on the bottom stair. “I was really worried about that performance and making a fool of myself, so I’m glad it’s over and we can focus on the last contest.”

Her lips purse, but she nods—thankfully. “Yeah, I’m glad it’s over too. You were looking a bit green there for a second right before you started singing,” she says, lightening up. She heads toward the kitchen, and I follow her just as I receive a text. I glance at it and see it’s from Cole.

Cole: Screw them…come back to me.

I can’t hold back my smile as I reply.

Storee: OMG Taran caught me sneaking back in, but I played it off as checking on the snow. She bought it.

Cole: Shit. Really? I’m sorry.

Storee: It’s fine. She seems clueless.

Cole: Good. Maybe we shouldn’t have fucked against the door.

Storee: What a silly comment. Of course we should have.

“Want some coffee?” Taran asks, tearing my attention away from my phone.

I take a seat at the countertop and say, “Yeah, sure.”

My phone buzzes again, and I glance at the text.

Cole: Want to go to Baubles and Wrappings with me today? We can pass it off as the town needing to see us together, but really I want to get lost in the store with you.

Storee: Tell me what time. I’ll be there.

I set my phone down and watch Taran make us coffee. “So how was your phone call with Guy?”

“Fine,” she says and keeps it at that.

O-kaaay. Just trying to have a sisterly conversation.

“What’s he doing for Christmas?”

“Going to his parents’ house.”

“Oh,” I reply. “Not coming up to Kringle?”

She shakes her head and turns toward me. “No, he has nieces and nephews, and they do this big Christmas thing at his parents’ house. I told him not to bother coming here since we’d be leaving soon.”

“Oh…we are?” I ask, dread filling me immediately.

“I mean…you saw Aunt Cindy up on the stage. Not sure how much care she’s going to need after Christmas. And I already spoke with Martha and Mae about helping her out with meals.”

“Huh…” I run my finger over the pink marble countertop. “I guess I just assumed we’d stay longer, maybe through the new year at least.”

“Well, I have a job to get back to, don’t you?”

“I mean, I brought my computer with me, so I could work from anywhere. I just fear if we leave too early, and she tries to do something, she might reinjure herself.”

“I think she’ll be fine,” Taran says without a worry in her voice. “Why do you want to stay longer? I thought you didn’t care for being here.”

I didn’t.

And then I realized it was everything that I was missing in my life.

“I don’t know.” I shrug. “It’s grown on me.”

“It has?” she asks, brows lifting. “That’s surprising.”

“Why is that surprising?”

“Maybe because the entire drive up here, you were bitching about having to live in Kringle for weeks.”

“Well, I guess my mind was changed.”

She crosses her arms over her chest, and her eyes laser in on me.

Oh, shit.

The death scan is coming.Text property © Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org.

She doesn’t use it often, but when she does, I swear she can see right through me.

“What are you not telling me?” she asks.

“Nothing,” I squeak.

“You’re hiding something.”

Cue the sweat.

“Taran.” I feign laughter. “I’m not hiding anything from you. Can’t a girl change her mind because she’s full of the holiday spirit? I guess I just forgot how magical it is here.”

She studies me some more. Those X-ray eyes cut through me, and after what feels like a full minute, she says, “You’re seeing him, aren’t you?”

“What?” I ask, my eyes wide, my heart pounding.

“Cole. You’re seeing him.”

“Uh…what? Ha, no,” I say.

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not.” I stab my finger against the counter, trying to make a point.

“Then why do you want to stay? Why…why are you crying when he sings? Why are you allowing him to kiss you?”

Shit. She’s too smart, too clever.

I consider telling her the truth, but I really don’t want this to blow up before the competition is over, right before Christmas. From the way she’s reacting now, I know it won’t go over well.

“Because…because I’ve been feeling low,” I say, which isn’t a lie. I have been. I didn’t know how low I was feeling until I showed up here and started to hang out with Cole more. “And Kringle just reminded me that I don’t have to be living this dull, cooped-up life in my apartment. That there is community all around. And things to do. I just…I like it here. And the thing with Cole, that’s…that’s…”

So real.

So wonderful.

So life-altering.

“That’s for the competition.”

The coffee brews behind her, the fresh, comforting smell filling the kitchen. She tilts her head to the side, and I try to remain as cool and calm as I can while I wait for her response. After a moment she says, “You’ve been feeling…lost?”

I let out my pent-up breath and nod. “Yeah, didn’t really realize it until I got here.”

“Why?” she asks, looking concerned.

“I don’t know.” I think about it for a second. “I guess I’ve felt lonely. Hard to have a job in a place where you don’t know many people and you don’t have to report to an office. I have a few friends, but it feels different being here. Everything happens on a deeper level. You know?”

She nods and then grabs two reindeer mugs for us.

“I know what you mean. I don’t have the connection to this place like you do, but I do love Aunt Cindy, and I’ve been feeling nostalgic since being here.” Jesus, she’s talking to me. I try not to make sudden movements because I don’t want to scare her away. “It’s why I’ve really wanted to help her win this thing. I know how much it means to her. I know that she’s okay, but she was talking about how she’s not sure how many more healthy years she has left to compete in the competition. So this means a lot to her.”

For some reason, guilt consumes me.

Don’t know why.

I haven’t been doing anything wrong.

I’ve been putting in my best effort.

I’ve been trying to win, and up until this last competition, I was carrying the team in first.

And I’m not that far behind.

But I still feel guilty.

Maybe because you’re lying to your sister.

She hands me my cup of coffee and then grabs the cream from the fridge. “I wish Mom and Dad were here,” she continues. “I know Aunt Cindy would have liked it.”

“Yeah, I wish they were here too. Once they got the timeshare, though…everything kind of changed, and then we were both in college. I don’t know, I feel like all of us have been letting Aunt Cindy down every Christmas. She must have been sad without us.”

“She was,” Taran says softly, ratcheting up that guilt that’s consuming me.

“Maybe we make more of an effort then. I could talk to Mom and Dad. I mean, imagine if they were here this year. They could have joined in on the Mean Girls dance. It would have been so much fun.”

She smirks. “Imagine Dad in that getup?”

“You know he would rock it.”

Taran chuckles. “He would.”

“What are we laughing about in here?” Aunt Cindy comes into the kitchen, leaning on her cane. She’s been using that more around the house rather than the walker since it’s clunky.

“Dad in our routine outfits,” I say.

Aunt Cindy looks between us and laughs. “Now that is a sight I would not want to see.”

“I don’t know,” Taran says. “Could be good fodder to use if we ever needed blackmail material.”

Aunt Cindy gestures to Taran. “Very good point.”

Cole

Max: Sewing tonight at my house. My mom has everything you need to learn.

Cole: Okay, need me to bring anything? I can grab sandwiches or pizza.

Max: Bring pizza and stop at Prancer’s Libations for some cans of cider. I think we might need it.

Cole: That doesn’t sound promising.

Max: If one thing takes you down…it’s going to be the sewing.

I pocket my phone just as I see Storee walk up to me on the corner, wearing one of her lighter jackets but decked out in a scarf, winter hat, and boots.

“Hey,” I say as I take in her cute red nose from the cold.

“Inside,” she says, motioning to the store.

I chuckle and hold the door open for her. She walks right past me and then lets out a deep breath.

“How are you just in a flannel shirt? You don’t even have gloves on. Are you insane?”

“No, you are. It’s thirty degrees out today.”

“Yes, and I fear my nipples fell off during the five-minute walk from Aunt Cindy’s house.”

“Hell, I hope not,” I say as I pull her into me and press a kiss to her lips, loving that we can be open about this.

When I pull away, I try to take her hand, but she shoos me away. “What do you think you’re doing with those icicles you call fingers?”

“Trying to hold your hand.”

“Uh, no, thank you. Defrost first and then I’ll consider it.”

“They’re not that cold,” I protest.

“Cold enough to make me shiver.” She rubs her hands together and then blows on them.

“If this is going to work between us, then you’re going to need to grow some thicker skin.”

“Not sure how to do that,” she says. “Don’t think I care to do the research.”

I chuckle and wrap my arm around her shoulders as we walk farther into the store.

Baubles and Wrappings combines two buildings, with an added second-floor loft area that overlooks the signature tree in the center of the store and offers a kids’ section of unique and vastly overpriced toys.

The rest of the store has rows and sections of specialized gifts tailored to Colorado, trimmings and decor for every Christmas lover, packaged baking mixes, wrapping paper, and even some Christmas dinnerware that has grown in popularity. And the Dankworths, well, they’re always walking up and down the rickety wooden floors, offering help and making sure no one is doing anything illegal since there are a lot of small things that could be stolen.

But Baubles and Wrappings is one of those small-town stores that people talk about because you’re able to find a unique gift, something that isn’t so run-of-the-mill.

“So where do you want to start?” I ask Storee.

“Well, I should really get presents for Aunt Cindy and Taran.”

“Anyone else?”

“No…I don’t think so.”

“Are you sure there’s no one else you want to get a present for?”

She glances in my direction. “If you’re referring to yourself, I already have something for you.”

“Wait, really?” I ask, surprised.

“Yup.” She guides us over to the kitchenware. “I’ve had it planned for a while now.”

“Is it you wrapped in a bow?”

“No, but glad to see where your head’s at.”

“Storee, where you’re concerned, my head is always thinking about that.”

She chuckles. “That makes you incredibly easy.”

“Yeah, it does, and I’m not even sorry.”

“I bet you’re not.” She picks up a pair of salt and pepper shakers that have been made into Mr. and Mrs. Claus. “These are adorable.”

“Bob Krampus has a pair in his kitchen.”

“Do you think he looks at them and thinks…boy, am I salty?”

I snort and pull away so I can look her in the eyes. “Is that a dad joke?”

“Possibly. Think I should submit it to the Dad Joke Emporium?”

“Is that a thing?”

“I don’t know. Sounds like it could be a thing.”

“Maybe you should.”

She sets the salt and pepper shakers down. “Maybe I will. Ooo, look at these tea towels. I love the vintage print on them.”

“That’s a recurring print,” I say. “You’ll find it on place mats and tablecloths and then on some knickknacks. I think it’s the print Mrs. Dankworth chose for the season. There’s always a new one every year.”

“Well, good on her. But I don’t think Aunt Cindy needs another tea towel or tablecloth. She has so many. Taran has been in charge of changing them every week, so they all get equal time in the light. Aunt Cindy’s words, not mine.”

“My mom would do something similar. She has a lot of mugs and dishware, and she would be sure to rotate them so they all had a chance to celebrate Christmas.”

“Isn’t it weird that we can believe that inanimate objects have feelings?” she asks.

“Yes. But my mom was a huge believer.”

We move over to the candles, and Storee picks up a balsam-scented one, takes off the top, and gives it a sniff. “Wow, that smells amazing.”

She leans the candle in my direction, and I take a sniff as well. “Smells like Max’s office.”

“Ooo, we should have had sex in there. I would have loved to do it surrounded by the smell of trees.”

I laugh. “That can be arranged.”

She picks up an apple pie-scented candle and sniffs it. “Would you really have sex in your friend’s office?”

“I would have sex on top of my friend if it meant being able to be with you.”

She pauses and gives me a sideways look. “Did you hear how that sounded?”

I shrug, not caring. “I said what I said.”

She nods and picks up a candle labeled Christmas Sweater. “Now would that be considered a threesome if we had sex on top of Atlas?”

I sniff the candle when she offers it, not too impressed. “Uh, I don’t think so. I think he would be considered an object in this scenario, like a bed or a desk.”

“Hmm, and like all other inanimate objects, would he have feelings too?”

“If we were fucking on top of him, I’m pretty sure he’d have feelings about it. And knowing him, it would probably be idiotic feelings.”

“What do you mean by that?” She picks up the balsam candle again and tucks it into the crook of her arm as we move toward the ornaments.

“Meaning he probably wouldn’t be annoyed. He’d be more proud, like he needed to encourage us and offer pointers. That’s the kind of guy Max is.”

She chuckles. “Oh my God, I could so see him doing that. Like…‘Hey, Cole, try fingering her with three fingers.’”

“Shhh,” I say on a laugh. “Christ, I don’t want to get kicked out of the store because you’re talking about fingering. Remember, the Dankworths patrol the aisles. And you’re on their watch list ever since you knocked over the signature tree.”

She pauses and turns toward me. “Wait, am I?”

I nod. “Oh yeah, there’s a picture of you behind the register and everything.”

“Seriously? That was an accident. I should go ask them to take it down.” She heads toward the front, but I tug on her arm, laughing.

“Storee, I’m kidding.”

Her brow pulls together in a frown as she pops her hand on her hip. “That is not funny. That was a very traumatic moment for me.”

I tilt her chin up. “It’s okay to laugh about it now. It’s been over a decade.”

“Yeah…but still. There may be whisperings of what happened.”

I shake my head. “Trust me, the things they whisper about now are how Jimmy Short accidentally peed himself by the make-your-own-wreath display.”

“Wait, really? He peed himself?”

I nod, and we move through the ornament aisle pretty quickly, soon heading into the clothing section. “He peed himself. He said he had a burst water bottle in his pants, but no one believed him, especially after the security footage was passed around.”

“What did he do in the security footage?”

“He was talking to his now ex-wife, looking at the display. He was shifting side to side, looking like a three-year-old trying to hold his pee, and when they got spooked by one of those motion-detecting decorations, the pee was scared right out of him. His wife was humiliated, and shortly after the season, they divorced.”

“Because of what happened in the store?”

I shake my head. “No, I think they were headed in that direction to begin with, but I don’t think the incident helped. He’s been trying to recover ever since. Hence why he keeps trying to win the Kringle competition. I think he sees it as the ultimate way to get back at his ex and show her what she’s missing out on since it’s such a huge honor in this town. I don’t know if you’ve seen her in the crowd watching, but she’s the one in the bright green jacket and large peppermint candy earrings.”

“Oh my God, I know who you’re talking about. That’s his ex-wife?”

“Yup. At the Caroling Café, Max told me she was licking her lips a lot while watching Jimmy.”

“Licking her lips?”

I nod. “Yup, like she was enticed. Word on the street is people saw them talking outside the café. Who knows, maybe they’ll find love all over again.”

“Aw, a second-chance romance. Well, if he wants that, I hope it happens for him. What about Ursula Kronk? What’s her story?”

“She’s one of our first responders,” I say as Storee picks up a scarf. She wraps it over her own scarf and smiles up at me, looking adorable. I unwrap it and shake my head. “Ursula wanted to represent her team, so she decided to join in. She does some side hustling with donations, and then at the end of the year she announces how much she raised for the town’s first responders. Last year, she raised enough to make repairs to the firehouse that were desperately needed. Also new beds for the living quarters and updated computers. And she also won last year, so I’m sure she entered looking for a repeat.”

“Oh, that’s pretty cool. I kind of feel bad that she’s struggling this year. What place is she in again?”

“Fourth. It’s a weird showing for her. I’ve heard—and when I say heard, I mean Max telling me the gossip—that she liked competing against your aunt and that it hasn’t been the same this year.”

“Well, she could compete against me.”

“Not the same, apparently.” I pick up a pink crewneck sweatshirt with red lettering that says there are hos in this house and hold it up to Storee. “This feels fitting for you.”

She glances down at it and then laughs. “Oh my God, I love that. Grab me a medium.”

“Seriously?”

“Oh yeah, I’m going to need that in my wardrobe. Thank you.” She moves to a green one and holds it up to me. It has a picture of Santa on the front, and around it the words Big Nick Energy. “I think this one was made for you.”

A rumble of a laugh comes out of me. “Damn right.”

“What size? Because you’re getting it. Maybe you can wear something other than a flannel shirt.”

“I happen to like my shirts, but an extra-large will do.”

“Ooo, beefy man.” She pulls out an extra-large and drapes it over her arm.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I ask.

“Getting you this sweatshirt.”

“I can get them.” I reach for it, but she shies away from me.

“No, I’m getting this—you get me my pink ho shirt.”

“Or I can get both.”

“Or you can listen to me and just get the pink one.” She stares me down, and I decide to listen to her.

“Fine. But if you see something else you like in here, you tell me so I can get it for you.”

“I do see something.” She looks down at my crotch. “But I don’t think it’s for sale.”

I smirk at her. “Don’t worry, I’ll tie a bow on it for later and give it to you.”

“Oh yeah? You’re going to…give it to me?” She waggles her brows.

“And here I thought I could be the cheesy one.”

“Afraid to tell you, but there’s some cheese in all of us.”

“That…that’s a weird comment,” I say, causing her to laugh and then lean into me. I take her hand—she lets me this time—and we move over to the knickknacks.

“Okay, what about Beatrice? She’s in last place, right? I feel like there has to be a story behind why she’s doing so badly.”

“I don’t think there’s a story there. I just think she doesn’t get it. She kind of follows her own taste, and people might not like her…eccentricity. Not to mention she totally messed up her scene from Die Hard. I think that was embarrassing for everyone to watch.”

“Yeah, you’re right about that. And her caroling performance was from a horror film. I swear I can still hear her monotone voice.”

“It wasn’t her greatest moment. She’s a hell of a veterinarian, though. Bob Krampus swears by her wart removal.”

“Wait, hold on, you said she’s a vet.”

I slowly nod. “Yup.”

A cute wrinkle forms on her nose as she tries to comprehend. “So why is she removing warts off Bob Krampus?”

“From what I heard, the first wart was an emergency visit, and no one was around to help but her, so she treated his ‘dangler,’ as he calls it—”

“Oh God, no details, please.” She shivers. “How do you even know that?”

“Well, he’s left multiple Google reviews and has told people around town. He always talks about it during the summer when he’s wearing his Hawaiian shirts. He shows off his elbows and tells us the tale of how she helped him.”

“That’s…that’s TMI. But also…Bob wears Hawaiian shirts during the summer?”

“Yup, because Santa is on vacation.”

“Oh my God.” She laughs. “You can’t be serious.”

“Very serious. He goes all in.”

“What’s going to happen when he’s…you know…too old?”

“His son has been in training for decades.”

“They have a son?”

“Yup.” I pick up an angel tree topper and flash it to her as a suggestion for a present. She shakes her head, so we keep moving through the store, toward the ceramic villages. “His name is Bob Krampus Jr., and he works one of the stalls.”

“Really? Which one?”

“The wooden toy stall. He’s carved every single one of them. Calls himself an elf.”

“Oh goodness.” She chuckles. “That whole family went all in, didn’t they?”

“They did.” I nod. “They really did. But that’s why they are so well-loved in this town. They’re the glue, the ones keeping this all together. So yeah, BKJ will be taking over when it’s time, and we’ve already been assured that he’ll be able to fill Bob’s boots.”

“You call him BKJ?”

“Everyone in town does. Even Bob and Sylvia.”

“Look at me learning all the different townie things. And here I thought you were a bit of a recluse and wouldn’t know much.” We head over into the vintage section of the store where the Dankworths resell antique Christmas items they’ve found at estate sales or have purchased for cheap off eBay.

“The only reason I know half the shit I do is because of Max. The guy never stops talking. He always comes into the barn in the morning when I’m feeding the reindeer and informs me of what he heard the day before.”

She presses her hand to her chest. “Is…is Atlas a town gossip?”

“One of the biggest,” I say as I pick up a doll. “This thing is creepy.”

“Oh my God.” She snags the doll from me and looks it over. “This is Felicity in her original blue holiday gown and pink stomacher. Holy shit.”

“Uh…what?”

Storee hands me the sweatshirt and candle she was holding and looks over the doll. “Pearl necklace, dainty shoes, and blue satin ribbon and pinner cap. This is it, Cole. This is really it.”

I swallow nervously. “Uh, what the hell are you talking about?”

She shows me the doll. “It’s Felicity in her holiday outfit.”

“I can somewhat see that, but who the hell is Felicity?”

“Are you really that dense?” she scoffs. Apparently I am. “She’s an American Girl, Cole. One of the originals, and Aunt Cindy doesn’t have this doll. She has all of the rest, Addy in her plaid tartan, Molly in her velvet dress, even that bitch Samantha in her plaid taffeta. But this, this would complete her collection.”

I scratch the back of my neck. “Your aunt collects dolls?”

“Oh yeah, she collects them, has a whole room of them, and guess who’s been sleeping in that room?”

“You?”

She slowly nods. “Yup, I’ve been sleeping with them all staring at me.”

“But…you’ve gotten off in front of them,” I say, thinking about all the dirty things we’ve done over the phone.

“And I’ll be honest, Cole, I wasn’t proud of it.”

Storee

“You need to be more precise with your cutting,” Taran says. “They’ll pay attention to that.”

“To how I hold my scissors?” I ask. “Come on, Taran.”

“She’s right,” Aunt Cindy says. “They judge everything during the Super Santa Speed Round. Not only does this include your gift wrapping, your ability to create a joyous Christmas card, and your stocking-making capabilities, but they also look into how clean your workspace is, even the way you hold your scissors and smile while creating these masterpieces. They have eagle eyes and watch every little thing. Especially the Dankworths.”

“But this is paper cutting,” I protest.

“And it needs to be precise.” Taran hands me another roll of wrapping paper. “Do it again.”

I can’t believe I left Cole to come back here and be berated. I should have gone with him to the farm to check on the reindeer, but nooooo, I was trying to be a good sister and niece and practice.

The minute I stepped through the door, Taran took my bags, plopped them on the floor with a clunk, and dragged me into the dining room, where she had a practice station set up for the Super Santa Speed Round.

I was having so much fun walking around with Cole. After Baubles and Wrappings, we went back to the stalls since I didn’t find anything for Taran, and I wound up grabbing a wind chime I know she will love. It’s made of wood and makes a subtle sound when the pieces knock together rather than a high-pitched tone. And it’s easy to untangle when the high-speed Colorado winds come flying in.

After that, we shared a brat, grabbed a cookie from Warm Your Spirits, and found a couple of chairs where we talked some more. Tanya gushed over us the entire time, especially since Cole wouldn’t let go of my hand—not that I wanted him to. He asked me if I wanted to slip through the back door of his house, and I was tempted, but after the conversation I had with Taran this morning, I knew I was on thin ice, so I opted to go back to the house.

And now…now I’m being told how to cut wrapping paper.

“The guidelines are there for a reason. You need to follow them,” Taran says.

“Yes, follow the guidelines,” Aunt Cindy parrots.

I slide the scissors along the preprinted guidelines. “But what if the wrapping paper they provide doesn’t have guidelines?”

“It does,” Aunt Cindy says. “It’s one of the things they watch for.”

“Okay,” I drag out. “Now, are we sure it’s going to be a regular box that I have to wrap and not some weird shape?”

“Depends,” Aunt Cindy says. “The first few years, it was a simple box, and they judged who decorated it the best, but last year they gave everyone a hexagonal package, and we had to figure out the angles. It was very hard.”

“That doesn’t seem like fun.”

“It wasn’t.” Aunt Cindy plops a hexagon-shaped box on the table. “We’re going to practice both.”

Oh joy.

I sigh and take a seat in my chair, working on wrapping the box. I can feel Taran’s eyes on me the entire time. When I finally look up at her, I ask, “What?”

“You seem reluctant to practice.”

“I’m not.”

I am. I want to be over at Cole’s. How great would it be if we could practice together? Like we did with the candy canes. That was so much fun. But sitting here with my aunt and sister hovering over me…not so much fun.

“Then why aren’t you cheerful?” Taran asks.

“You’re not cheerful either. You’re more into regiment mode at the moment.”

“Well, someone needs to be. Honestly, you spent hours out in town today and the last contest is coming up soon. We need to be prepared. We’re five points behind. We have to take first in this next one, and Cole needs to come in last if we have any chance at winning this.”

“That seems a little dramatic,” I say. “We also have the lights contest and the overall Christmas joy scoring from the spies around town, and Cole hasn’t really improved on his display at all, and we have added some things to the house. The candy cane lollipops along the porch were a nice touch.”

Taran perks up. “Thank you. It took a while to make sure they were straight, but once I started using the level, I thought they added some pizzazz.”

“And changing the bulbs in the porch lights…also a nice touch.”

“That was my idea,” Aunt Cindy says.

“It was a good one.”

I tape the paper together at the top, using the double-sided tape so it doesn’t show. I even fold the raw edge over.

“And listen,” I continue, “the card making will be a breeze. I’ve been scrapbooking with Aunt Cindy for years. I know what goes into a good Christmas card. We only need to worry about the stocking, but I have an idea.”

“Oh?” Aunt Cindy says with piqued interest.

“Yes. We’ll need some felt, an upholstery needle, and some yarn.”