Page 20 of Grinchland
“Looks like it.”
She stared at me a moment longer before she turned to George. “Can I make you a plate of cookies before you go?”
Her genuine smile was back, and for some asinine reason, a twinge of jealousy rushed through me when I realized that smile was for George alone. I blinked, startled by that reaction. I thought I must be drunk—even though I’d only had one beer. If this was my reaction to alcohol, I was going to commit to being stone-cold sober.
“I don’t know,” George responded as he glanced down and hurried to wipe crumbs off his uniform.
I could tell from the sheer number of cookie remnants on his person that if I wasn’t here, he’d need a wheelbarrow to transport all the cookies he’d accept.
“Don’t change your mind on my account,” I said as I folded my arms and leaned one shoulder against the doorframe.
Clara glanced over at me and then back to George. “You said Marigold would love the almond in the frosting.” She leaned closer to George. “It’s my magic ingredient.” Her gaze met mine. “Multiple awards,” she said, emphasizing the p.
“George isn’t a reliable judge. I’ve seen him eat a questionable sandwich and call it a masterpiece.”
Clara narrowed her eyes. “I promise you my cookies are much better than questionable sandwiches.”
I shrugged. “I’ll never know.”
Clara huffed and pulled back, turning her attention back to George. “I’ll pack you some cookies. I’m not taking no for an answer.” She marched into the kitchen.
Now alone with George, I turned my attention to him. “What the heck?” I asked.
“I’m sorry, man. She invited me in, offered me cookies and hot cocoa.” He shrugged. “What was I supposed to do?”
Was he serious? “Say no, write the ticket, leave.” I tapped each finger as I spoke. “Easy.”
He studied me. I could see that he wanted to agree with me, but his stomach was preventing him. I sighed, loud enough so he could hear.
“Did you at least write her a ticket?”
He paused. “I?—”
“George.” This was not how this evening was supposed to go.
He shrugged. “I’m sorry, man. Her cookies, they’re evil.” He scrunched up his face as he spoke the word, but the expression disappeared as soon as Clara entered with two full plates of cookies wrapped in cellophane.
“The second plate is for the station.” She paused. “I want people in this town to get a little holiday cheer.” She flicked her gaze over to me and then back to George. “And thanks for that list. It will be extremely helpful.”
I frowned. “List? What list?”
Clara looked at me again before turning her attention back to George. “I’ll see you tomorrow night. I’ll be bringing more cookies with me too.”
“Tomorrow night? What’s tomorrow night, and why will she be seeing you?” I racked through my calendar and then my entire body went cold. “George,” I said, my voice low. “What did you do?”
He winced as he hurried to grab the two plates of cookies from Clara. “Sorry, Silas. I gotta go.” He turned, adjusted the plate in his left hand so he could turn the doorknob, and then sprinted out of the house like a bat out of hell.
When the door shut solidly behind him, I turned back to Clara. “What are you doing?” I glared at her. If she thought that she could just waltz into a town council meeting and get them to reverse the ban on Christmas, she had another thing coming.
“Just playing the game,” she said as she shrugged before she folded her arms.
The likelihood of the entire council agreeing with her was slim to none, but she’d already got George on her side. There were only four people left. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.
“You’re leaving in a few months. Why are you doing this?” I pushed my hand through my hair. Things were good the way they were. Why was she so set on changing everything?
Her expression softened. She studied me before she sighed. “I guess there’s another way. But only if you’re up to it.”
I didn’t like that answer, but I wasn’t going to do what I wanted to do—which was to tell her no. Thankfully, I’d worked in business long enough to understand that it was all in the negotiation. I’d let her lay out the terms and see if we could find common ground.
