Page 64 of Yule Know It When You See It
“How about some coffee?I’mfeeling the temperature today, so I know you must be freezing.” Chuckling, I continue to rub her arms, and she gives a firm nod of approval.
When we approach the stand, the worker, a man with a graying beard and a red knit cap slipped over his head, gives us a warm smile. “Merry Christmas,” he says, leaning on the table separating us from him.
“Merry Christmas,” I say back, eyes grazing the menu above him with only three options: black, peppermint, and vanilla.
“God Jul,” Theo says, surprising me.
The vendor slowly blinks at her behind his wire-rimmed glasses before slapping the table and offering a wide grin. “Well, that’s something I haven’t heard in quite some time, young lady. How’s about your coffee’s on the house? Consider it a Yule gift.”
“Sir, you don’t have to do that.” Theo leans over the table, holding her hand up to fan back and forth.
“I insist. And tell you what? If you want to show support, check out my wife’s stall three down from mine. She sells hand-crafted and painted ceramic mugs. Makes them herself from clay and all.” The vendor flips two paper coffee cups into his hands, both designed elaborately with red and green holiday graphics.
Theo bites her bottom lip, looking to the mug stall in question and smiles. “Absolutely. Thank you so much, sir. I’ll have peppermint, please.”
In the spirit of things, I also order peppermint, and with paper cups secured with drinking lids, we loop our arms and take in the festival sights. A band comprised of a violin, flute, and accordion player has set up on a stage in the center. They play renditionsof I Saw Three Ships,Wassail, Wassail, andGod Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen.
Theo holds her phone up to me, showing the photo her parents text to her of them on a beach in Fiji. The palm trees in the background are decorated with green lights, and the two of them are smiling with streaks of sunscreen down their noses. Theo rests her head on my shoulder and holds her phone above us, snapping a selfie that she uses in her response to them.
We get to the coffee mug stall, and Theo’s eyes light up. I imagined a dozen or so mugs, given the man told us she makes them by hand, but my jaw drops at the sight ofhundredsof mugs in varying styles, colors, and sizes.
“These are beautiful,” Theo says to the woman, her tight brown ringlets peppered with gray bouncing as she stands from a folding chair resting in the corner.
“Thank you kindly. We weren’t sure how many customers we’d get today, given it’s Christmas day and all, but I’m delighted to see a handful.” The woman folds her hands behind her back, beaming at the merchandise on display in front of her and Theo perusing it with awe.
“Are you all closing early?” I ask, rubbing between Theo’s shoulder blades as she makes the harrowing decision on which mug to buy.
“We are indeed. Want to be home in time for some ham dinner.” The woman pats her belly and chuckles.
“I don’t blame you.” I smile at the woman, smells of my mother’s glazed ham baking in the oven when I was a kid, anticipating how it’d make my mouth water while eating it, sprouting vividly in my mind given the familiar surroundings.
Theo picks a blue mug shaped like an elf shoe, a winter landscape with forests of snow-covered pine trees painted on the front and winding lights on the opposite side. We thank the woman and visit the rest of the shops, leaving with a decent-sized haul hanging from our arms in paper shopping bags—two pretzels to consume later, two heart-shaped cookies with pink frosting and words in German I didn’t know, three hand-painted glass ornaments Theo wants to add to my tree, and several lighted paper stars that she wants to use to decorate her apartment.
Before we leave, I nudge Theo’s arm and hand her my phone. “I need you to take a picture so I can text it to Spence.”
“Is that why you’re wearing the Santa hat?” Theo laughs and holds up my phone. “And here I thought you were being festive.”
“Yeah, yeah. I lost a bet.” Glancing around to make sure no one will see, I hold up my middle finger, flash a smug smile and Theo snaps a photo.
We’re heading back to my apartment when Theo slides in front of me and takes both hands, the bags on her arms crinkling and swaying. “Before we head back, I haveonemore surprise.”
“You’re going to spoil me, Romance.” I grin and kiss her. “And that’s not a complaint.”
She laughs, bubbly and bright, and leads me a block away. We’re rounding a corner and arrive in a small patch of quaint homes still standing and surviving in the middle of the city. As lovely as the scenery is and how much this tiny chunk of suburbia surrounded by urban life is a sight, I’m confusedwhywe’re here.
“What’s this all about?” One of my hands is on Theo and the other holds bags, so I point with my elbow.
She leans toward me and edges her chin at one of the front yards. “See the snow? It’s the only piles I could find that haven’t turned black and hard or have questionable yellow patches in them.”
She looks so proud of herself, I choose my next words carefully. “Very nice. But, I’m still not fully following why we’re…here?”
Theo rests the bags on the one dry spot on the sidewalk, urges me to do the same, and frolics to the snow, scooping some into her hands and beginning to form a ball.
Chuckling, I drop to my knees beside her, not caring when the cold wetness seeps through my jeans. “You want to build a snowman with me? In a stranger’s front yard?”
“Yup,” she answers, smiling as she pads more snow onto the ball. “There’s not enough to make a full snowman, and I figured they’re too occupied with Christmas festivities to notice us.”
Glancing around us as if making a snowman with someone else’s snow could get us a misdemeanor, I shrug and start my own ball. We’re a fit of laughs as we make our mini snowman, occasionally throwing snow at each other and constantly checking the windows or front door of the house. We’ve just put on the final touches with several black rocks and a twig for the snowman’s bowtie when the door of the house creaks open. We don’t wait long enough to know if the owners noticed us or if they were simply stepping outside, because we’re scooping our bags into our hands, slipping and sliding on the sidewalk as we sprint away.
