Page 64 of The Christmas Fix
Noah wedged the door between them peering around the corner. “Five minutes for what?”
“You and Sara. Warm, preferably waterproof clothes. Five minutes. Go!”
He stared at her, attempting to formulate words. She was wearing a knit hat in cobalt blue that stood out against the honey blonde of her hair. Her parka was zipped to the neck and hid the tattoo that had changed his life on her wrist. Her mittens were thick and matched the hat. She had knee-high snow boots on.
“Come on!” she said, hauling back as if to throw her reserve snowball in his face.
It was better than an omelet fight, Noah decided. “Sara! Find your ski pants!” he yelled and jogged up the stairs.
He left the front door open so Cat could come in if she so desired.
“Sara!” he yelled again, barreling into her room.
“Geez, Dad. It’s a snow day. Can’t a girl get some extra sleep?” she asked, giving him a disgruntled look from under her comforter.
“Cat’s here. She wants us in snow clothes in—”
“Four minutes,” Cat yelled from the foyer.
Sara went from sleepy preteen to energized kid in half a second flat. She threw her comforter on the floor and tore into her room. “Hi, Cat!” she yelled.
“Hi, Sara! Hurry up, Yateses! Get a move on,” Cat bellowed.
Sara giggled hysterically from the depths of her room. Noah dug through his closet until he found his never-worn ski pants, some old snow boots, and a thermal shirt.
He felt like an idiot speed dressing without any idea where Cat was taking them. Knowing her, she probably wanted to film some kind of orchestrated snowball fight. Or she could be driving them into the middle of nowhere to do shots and snowshoe. Wait, scratch that. She wouldn’t ask Sara to do shots.
He fumbled with the laces on his left boot and scanned the room for his winter coat, the one he saved for shoveling snow and fighting off the biting cold at mid-winter ribbon cutting ceremonies.
“Let’s go! Bus is leaving,” Cat called.
“Hurry up, Dad!” Sara grinned as she ran past his doorway, and Noah felt his heart lighten.
He dashed down the stairs after her, still fumbling for his gloves.
They met in the doorway. Cat grinned at him, and Noah felt a warm rush wash through his veins. She looked like an angelic devil, beautiful and up to no good.
She slapped a cafeteria tray to his chest. “Let’s go, Mr. Manager.” She handed another one to Sara.
Sara frowned at it. “Are we eating at a cafeteria?”
“Oh, ye of little imagination,” Cat teased. She led the way off the porch and down the sidewalk. “Follow me, my little snow bunnies.”
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The hill in front of the old high school was carved with tracks. There were two dozen kids in snow gear zooming down the fresh white carpet of snow and trudging back up to do it again. Another group, with a mix of parents, was building what looked like a snow fort or igloo. Still others were working on a Calvin and Hobbes-worthy snowman army.
“Voila,” Cat announced, sweeping her arms out to encompass the chaos.
“What is this?” Noah asked in wonder.
“Thisis how you do a snow day,” Cat insisted. “We’re going tray sledding, and then I assume we’re going to kick the as—uh butts of everyone else on the hill in an epic snowball fight of doom.
“Race you to the top,” Sara squealed and started sprinting for the hill.
Cat laughed. “Come on, Noah. You can’t let her beat you. It’ll give her unrealistic expectations of her own greatness.”
It took him a full second to move his feet. A full second of doubt and delight and everything in between. But the shove he gave Cat that had her falling on her ass in the snow gave him the momentum to follow his daughter’s footprints up the hill.
