Page 55 of Miss Humbug
“Did I just hear you’re looking to offload the Hollybrooke property?” Arlene, who helped judge the bake sale and served as oversight for our current activity, approached Grans at the marshmallow building table with the family. Her question boomed across the tent.
How did Arlene project her voice so loud? Oh, right. Because she had a microphone clipped to her coat collar. Arlene spoke into a hot mic.
“I didn’t know you were moving, Emmaline,” Mr. Kowalczyk from the post office called out.
A judge from the book club gasped. “Are you passing down the Holly house? Is winning the house part of the contest?”
“As a judge in this competition, I am not aware of any prizes involving the sale of the Hollybrooke estate,” Arlene spoke into her very hot, live, microphone. “Emmaline? What is this about?”
The chatter inside the tent grew louder. Grans remained composed aside from a single finger pressed against her temple. No one outside the family should have known the stakes—not even her panel of judges. They were told this contest was simply Grans orchestrating an elaborate new family tradition.
I looked at Ethan. His face reddened. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“You know what? You’re right. All of this is ridiculous.”
Ethan held his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I said it was a joke, not ridiculous.” He lowered his hands. “Right. That doesn’t sound any better.”
Shawn pointed a menacing finger at Ethan. “You better not ruin this for me.”
“Stop pointing at him,” I shot back to my brother. “You are perfectly capable of ruining things all by yourself.”
He shifted his pointing finger at me. “I have the best business sense of any of us. I’ll take care of the house and keep it in the family. The way it should be.”
Rafe snorted. “I work for an international company and negotiate sales deals every day. My wife is an office manager and sits on the board of four organizations. You don’t think we have business sense?”
Shawn shrugged. “Sure. I’m just sayin’ mine is better.”
Rafe stood at his end of the table. “We deserve this house and we’re ready to prove it. By my accounting, my family is in the lead.”
Ashe bolted to his feet, causing his metal folding chair to tip. “No,we’rewinning. Shawn and I caught up today with our points split strategy.”
“I knew something was up with them,” Ethan muttered.
“Say it to my face, Sawyer.” Shawn closed the space between them and shadowed over Ethan, still seated.
Ethan sprung from his chair. He had several inches in height over my suddenly menacing brother. “I knew your point sharing with Ashe was shady.” He looked past Shawn to Ashe. “Yeah, I said it. You two are actingshady.”
I broke in between Shawn and Ethan before the testosterone boiled over.
Too late. Testosterone sizzled against the burner flames. This tent escalated to piping hot like that microphone. Ashe barreled past me. “Let’s take this outside. Right now.”
They took it outside. The guys, muttering and sniping at each other, followed Ashe, their head tantruming adult, as he stomped from the tent into the town square.
I dashed out behind them along with Brianne, Riley, and a swarm of kids. Half the tent emptied out with us. The square bustled with shoppers at the holiday haus shops and food vendors.
Ashe, Shawn, Ethan, and Rafe stood in a circle and spoke in escalating voices at each other. Snippets carried over about who deserved the house, things not being fair, and something about a broken bike in fifth grade. A scolding Brianne tugged Rafe back, leaving an opening for Riley to slide in and join the bickering. Theloudbickering.
This was not a good look for the Holly family.
Apparently, snow had started falling while we’d been inside the tent. A soft dusting coated the ground and wide, fluffy flakes fluttered down. Early winter snow set the scene like a snow globe, except for the squabbling family stationed at the center.
A little girl tugged on my sleeve. “Are they going to brawl?”
I gaped at her. I wanted to say no. Surely, my family knew better than this. Surely, Ethan knew better.
Shawn bent down and mashed a wad of snow together. He flung it at Ethan. “Here’s your snowman contest right here.”
The snow instantly broke apart and hit Ethan’s chest in light, scattered glops. There wasn’t enough of it to form a decent snowball. Ethan stood still. Looked down at his wet shirt, then back at Shawn.
