Page 9 of Grinchland
“Do you know what you want to wear today?” I asked after I planted a big kiss on the top of her head, which she promptly tried to wipe off. “Hey!”
She ignored me as she climbed off my lap and stood. Her expression had changed from sadness to pure bliss. She had a plan and couldn’t wait to show me.
“Wait here,” she said, holding out her hands.
I pointed to the ground. “Right here?” I asked.
She giggled and nodded before turning to hurry to her closet. She shut the door behind her, and I waited. And waited.
Five minutes went by, and I was beginning to wonder if I’d lost her. I was about to call out to make sure everything was okay, when the door swung open and she came strutting out.
I tried to fight the smile that emerged. She was wearing a pair of neon blue, sparkly tights, an orange tutu with glitter polka dots, and a blue polka dot top with a giant rainbow scarf wrapped around her neck. And to top it off, she had a pair of Minnie Mouse ears that she got last year at Disneyland.
She twirled a few times, and I whooped and cheered. “You look beautiful,” I said as I moved to stand. “Let’s go wrangle your hair and eat some breakfast.”
After her hair was braided into pigtails and her teeth were brushed, she led the way and I followed behind, shutting off the lights as I went. When we got to the kitchen, I declared it felt like a pancake kind of morning, so I got started pulling out the ingredients and setting them on the counter. I was adjusting the knob of the griddle when I heard Isabelle gasp.
Panicked, I searched the room only to find her by the sink, standing on her step stool. She’d risen up on to her tiptoes and was straining to see through the window.
In two steps, I was at her side. “What? What happened? Did you burn yourself?” I ran my gaze over her body in search of any indication that she was injured.
She glanced over at me, her bright green eyes as wide as saucers. “Look,” she whispered as she shifted her gaze to the window and pointed.
I followed her gaze and my entire body froze. My conversation with Clara last night apparently had not landed. Instead of heeding my warning, she was tromping through her snow-covered lawn with a giant reindeer in tow. But not only was she sticking reindeer in her front lawn, there was a Santa, a sleigh, and the largest, gaudiest nativity scene at the center of it all.
I blinked a few times out of hope that this was just a figment of my imagination. But every time my sight cleared, the Christmas decorations Clara was so defiantly staking into the ground were there to greet me.
Damn my 20/20 vision.
I sighed, frustration boiling up inside of me. If she wanted to make a good impression on the town she’d just moved into, this was not the way to do it.
“What is all of that?” Isabelle asked, her voice holding a sort of reverence that reminded me of Nicole.
“It’s nothing.” I wrapped my arm around Isabelle’s middle and hauled her down. “Just our new neighbor being naughty,” I muttered under my breath and then squeezed my eyes shut. Less than twenty-four hours since this Christmas-crazed woman had entered my life, and I was already using Christmas puns.
“It’s so pretty,” Isabelle said as she scrambled to climb up her step stool again.
“Aren’t you going to help me make pancakes?” I asked, hoping to distract her.
“But—”
“I can’t do it on my own.” I gave her my biggest pout.
Isabelle studied me. I could see the desire to go back to the window fight against her desire to help me. Finally, she sighed and nodded. “Okay.”
Luckily, I kept her sufficiently engaged in conversation about Bluey, her new favorite TV obsession, while we mixed, poured, and flipped the pancakes. And she seemed to forget the decorations.
I kept her away from the windows as I led her over to the foyer to get her shoes on. I stuffed her lunchbox into her backpack while she slipped on her coat. Once she was situated, we headed out into the garage and climbed into my truck.
I’d hoped that she would have forgotten enough to keep her attention on me and not Clara’s house, but that was a pipe dream. Her face was basically plastered to the car window as we pulled out of the driveway.
I glared at Clara, who was in the process of climbing into her car and had paused to look over her shoulder. Her gaze met mine, and a defiant little twitch to her chin told me she knew exactly what she was doing. Heat pricked my skin as I pulled out onto the street and took a left.
On my way to the primary school, I called Todd. He answered in one ring.
“Hey, boss,” he said, his voice breathy like he’d run to the phone.
“I’m dropping off Isabelle at school, and then I’ll need you to go to my house. There’s a citation to be written.”
