Page 54 of Miss Humbug
“I amnotdecorating a tree,” Marlowe announced. She cleared her throat. “Um, that sounded incredibly humbug of me. I would prefer the tire run and the climbing wall.”
“Aw, did you call yourself a humbug?” Megan laughed.
“Recovering humbug,” I suggested. “We’re working on it.”
Marlowe held her chin high. “I listened to a whole song about eggnog and roasting chestnuts on the way over. The whole thing.”
The whistle blew again. “Get ready to start in three, two, one—go!”
The day progressed with exhausting but fun activities. Marlowe gave the event her full attention and physical effort. Seeing her happy took my mind off pressing worries—those unsecured acres, my dad, and my own uncertain future.
By my count, Rafe and Brianne and their athletic kids led in today’s family bracket of points. Riley and her daughter had two other fit adults with them, but I counted them behind in points from Shawn and Ashe, who’d teamed up today with Ashe’s oldest two kids.
“How’s that working with your brothers on the same team today?” I asked Marlowe. The family contest rules were confounding at times. Rafe and Riley had shared any activity but not others. Now her brothers.
“Yeah, I noticed that too, but TL approved it.” She popped a marshmallow into her mouth. We sat at a long table in the same tent used for the Tasty Bake competition last weekend, with added space heaters to keep the temperature up. “I can’t believe we’re building snow people out of marshmallows.” She examined her lumpy, unsteady sugar creation. “At least it doesn’t involve an oven.”
“A few years ago, the town moved the snowman building contest to late January when we almost always have snow,” I told her. “December is a wild card for weather. They kept having to cancel the event.”
If I was smart, I’d head back to the farm. Rob assured me he had things covered. We’d already lost sales when the tree lot by the highway closed early for staffing two nights this week. Our seasonal staff this year weren’t exactly dependable. One guy I had to fire. His girlfriend surprised him with Chicago Bears tickets which for him trumped standing in the cold parking lot selling trees. He texted us his “cancellation of shift” on the way to the game. An hourafterthe start time for his shift.
Beside me, Marlowe worked quietly to construct her snow being. We were basically doing little kids’ crafts, which was all fine and good for a family festival, but I had questions when land rights were on the line. “Back to the teams and the points. Are Ashe and Shawn splitting today’s points somehow?”
“I don’t understand the points system. I think Grans just wants us all here together.”
Sure enough, Emmaline Holly sat in a center seat with the Holly generations surrounding her. She laughed as Reece attempted to walk her marshmallow robot off its paper plate base. Marlowe’s aunt Sunny snapped photos of her own grandkids, Rafe and Riley’s kids, and seemed the least stressed of anybody, given she and Marlowe’s uncle weren’t in the running to win the house.
My neck began to sweat. “Okay sure, your family is doing family stuff.” I lowered my voice. “Our arrangement is a big deal to me. I need to know if we can actually win this thing.”
Marlowe blew out a breath of frustration. “I don’t make the rules. I don’t know.”
She was acting awfully aloof about this.
“Your life stands to change a pretty big amount if you win. Aren’t you concerned how this is all adding up?” I looked at my own paper plate with a pile of loose candy and marshmallows. “This competition is ajoke.”
Marlowe’s expression shifted. She angled her body away from her family to close us in. “When it comes down to it, Grans will give the house to whoever deserves it.Ideserve it. I have a plan and I’m not wavering.”
“A plan besides the competition?” My thoughts raced. “Is there something you’re not telling me? We’re in this together. I need to know details.”
Never mind I hadn’t told her about those extra borrowed acres. I couldn’t tell her here. Not with so many people around.
“That’s not even anything,” a droll voice sounded over my shoulder.
TL, the goth teen who would determine our future, turned her nose up at my pile of candy.
The chatter buzzing around us drained my ability to think straight. Marlowe wasn’t hearing me. She wasn’t seeing how much I—we—stood to lose.
I shoved the plate aside and zeroed in on Marlowe. “We need to talk. About the competition and these points. I’m all for a fun day out with the family, but none of this makes any sense. The points mean nothing. I can’t believe someone will win the Hollybrooke House for making a craft out of a marshmallow!”
Something weird was happening. Or not happening, more like. The talking around us stopped. The tent grew eerily quiet. The Holly family, including Emmaline, stared at me. Daggers from Emmaline, and swords and other spears from Marlowe’s brothers and cousins.
TL shrugged and moved on.
Marlowe herself simply sighed. “This doesn’t bode well.”
Chapter 19
Marlowe
