Page 22 of Grinchland
“Fine,” I said as I extended my hand. “You have yourself a deal.”
I could feel his hesitation as he stared at my hand. I half expected him to back out. To claim this was all a joke and that he’d see me tomorrow at the town council meeting. Instead, he gripped my hand in his.
“Deal.”
After we shook on it, he let go and dropped his hand back to his side. He glanced around as if looking for the next step when his gaze landed on the new paper snowflakes I’d made and hung in my front window.
He paused before taking a step closer. “Did you…” He frowned. “Did you turn your citations into snowflakes?”
I shrugged. “Maybe.”
He glanced back at me. “You know you’ll still have to pay those.”
“Or I’m just that confident that you’ll see my side of things once this is all over.”
He furrowed his brow. “Um…but I just agreed. Right now.”
I smiled. If he only knew. “I know.”
“So you had no idea that I was going to go along with your crazy Christmas antics when you cut those up.”
I quirked a shoulder. “Let’s just say I had a hunch.” Then I motioned toward him. “Looks like my hunch was right.”
He studied me before he stepped away from the snowflakes. “So what is your plan?”
“You’ll just have to find out.” I grinned. “One week. Anything I want to do.”
He paused, regret flashing in his gaze. “Within reason.”
“That was not the agreement,” I said pointing my finger in his direction. “I said all of my Christmas traditions.”
He winced. “I’m assuming from all of this”—he waved his hands around the house—“you have a lot?” He ended that sentence with hope in his voice that I was going to calm his fears.
I chuckled. “You have no idea.”
ELEVEN
SILAS
I woke up Friday morning with equal parts worry and regret. Worry for what the next seven days were going to bring me. Regret for even agreeing to Clara’s plan in the first place. I had banned Christmas because it brought my family nothing but grief, and now I was stuck with the most Christmasy elf in Santa’s workshop for the next seven days.
This was going to be hell.
“You have a plan,” I muttered to myself for the hundredth time this morning. I was in the middle of making myself a cup of coffee to help me wake up.
The sound of Dog’s doggie door had me looking over to see him prance inside. He looked content as he paused and glanced over at me. Ugh, to be a dog. Way less responsibilities. Way less…wait.
I stared at his neck. His collar was different. It was new and…Christmas themed.
“Dog, come,” I said as I squatted down. He paused but then trotted over to me and sat. “What did that woman do to you?” I asked as I started to inspect the red-and-green checkered collar. Not only was it not my style, but as I shifted it, I could hear a jingle bell rattling against a metal name tag. I twisted the collar until I had the tag in hand.
I glanced down and my eyes bugged from my head.
“Blitzen?” I yelled and then pursed my lips. Had that woman seriously renamed my dog? “Your name is not Blitzen,” I said as I started to feed the tongue of the collar through the clasp; it fell into my hand. I stuffed it into my pocket just as Isabelle appeared.
She was walking slowly, gracefully into the kitchen like she was feeling her outfit this morning and wanted me to notice.
“Wow,” I whispered. “You look beautiful.”
