Page 13 of Grinchland
My stomach dropped as my gaze snapped over to Isabelle, who was doodling in a notebook while swinging her feet. While I didn’t know that particular kind of loss, my heart ached for that little girl.
And maybe my heart ached a bit for Silas. Just a little bit. Or at least I was beginning to understand why he was the way he was. I understood anger. I understood grief. I understood wanting to lock the door and push the entire world away.
But canceling Christmas? Refusing to participate in the holliest, jolliest time of the year? That I didn’t understand.
Christmastime was the perfect antidote to sadness. How could anyone feel bad when looking at twinkling Christmas lights or basking in the excitement of prepping for Santa? Maybe that was what Silas needed. A reminder of what made this time of year the best.
I’d decided to forgive Silas while I walked out to my car after school. Maybe we had just got off on the wrong foot. There were things about him that I didn't know, and vice versa. Gran had always taught me that there were always two sides to every story. And while I'd like to believe that Silas was the Grinch of Grinchland, life wasn't always so cut and dry.
I was going to go home, carefully wrap up the cookies that I decorated yesterday, and walk over to start fresh with the mayor. It was time to put the past behind us and move forward.
I saw a flash of gold run across my driveway, causing me to slam on my brakes. It shimmied through the iron bars of Silas’s fence.
“Dog,” I muttered under my breath. I’d seen him come over a few times. I always waited to see if he was going to do something to my decorations, but he just trotted around and then eventually left. He was someone from that house that I actually looked forward to seeing.
I lingered in my driveway, just in case he decided to come back. I didn't want to accidentally hit him. But when it became clear that he was gone for good, I pulled forward and parked in front of the garage before turning off the engine. I grabbed my purse and teacher bag and pulled open the driver's door.
The cold winter air hit me and the snow beneath my shoes crunched as I climbed out of my car. I slammed my door shut then gripped the top of my zipper tighter to my chest as I hurried to my front door. I slipped the key into the lock, and just as my fingers grabbed the handle, I froze.
Right in front of my face was a white piece of paper taped to my door. Big bold letters at the top said, “CITATION: City of Grinchland.” I scrolled to the neatly written reason above the word offense.
Public nuisance: Excessive storage of materials visible from the public right-of-way
I blinked. Excessive storage of materials? I glanced behind me. Was he talking about my Christmas decorations that I’d just started putting up this morning? And then I read a bit further down.
Total fee if paid within 21 days: $120.00
Heat pricked at my neck. One hundred and twenty dollars? Was he nuts? I sputtered. Why did it cost so much? All I wanted to do was share a little holiday spirit with the town. I pinched my lips together and narrowed my eyes.
This man…this man…
I wanted to think some thoughts that would definitely stick me at number one on the naughty list, but I had a better idea. He could write me citations all he wanted, but that was the coward’s way of doing things. I would take the high road.
Ten minutes later, I pulled my front door shut behind me. Balanced on my right hand was a plate of perfectly decorated Christmas cookies. I’d wrapped them in cellophane and even used my good Christmas ribbon to tie it shut.
With the citation tucked into my jacket pocket, I rounded the fence, walked across his lawn, and up to the front door. A large, lion’s head knocker sat in the middle of the ornate, wood door. I lifted it and let it fall a few times. Then I slipped my right hand under the plate of cookies to join my left and waited.
A few seconds later, the door opened and Isabelle’s wide eyes stared up at me. “Ms. Snow?”
I smiled and leaned in. “Is your daddy home?”
SEVEN
SILAS
The oven beeped and the air smelled of basil and warm tomato sauce. I pressed the off button and slipped on the oven mitts that I’d pulled out of the drawer and set by the stove.
“It’s dinner time,” I called out to Isabelle. Last I’d seen her, she was twirling in the front room to a sing-a-long version of a princess movie that I couldn’t name—they all blended together.
I set the steaming lasagna down on a pair of grey potholders and then slid off the oven mitts, stacked them on top of each other, and placed them back into the drawer where they belonged.
I heard the flap of the dog door that led into the mudroom off the kitchen, and I glanced over to see Dog scurry by. He kept his body pressed to the wall like he’d been doing something he shouldn’t have and didn’t want to get caught.
I thought about calling him back and confronting him, but my stomach growled. I was starving and ready to eat.
“Peanut!” I called out again, but the only response I got was the sound of someone knocking on the front door.
I wiped my hands on the dish towel hanging from the oven door before I went to answer it. I’d only taken two steps when I heard the door open and Isabelle’s voice carry down the hall. I didn’t like it when she answered the door before I knew who was there.
