Page 32 of Grump Hard
Timmy’s green eyes widen. “You think so? Really?”
“I do,” I insist.
“I’ll second that,” Paulie says.
“And I third it,” Holly agrees, applying the last piece of chocolate and stepping back, her arms raised as she beams his way. “And you can say it all started when you were the best dang decorator a gingerbread jubilee team ever had.”
Timmy twitches with happiness, Marge pulls him in for a hug, and Paulie reaches for a silver sifter full of powdered sugar.
As he coats our creation with a dusting of “snow,” Holly leans into my side, wrapping her arms around my waist. “We did it!”
“We did.” I let my arm drop around her shoulders, pulling her close, the feel of her squeezing me tight all the confirmation that I need.
That’s it. I’m going to ask her out.
The decision has been made.
“Time!” The mayor’s husband, Mattie, bellows through his megaphone, just as Paulie finishes covering the icing snow drifts with a thin layer of sugar.
The room erupts in cheers and groans, but at our table, we simply lift our chins and stand proud.
No matter what comes next, we made a remarkable recovery. And, glancing around the room, I realize our town hall more than holds its own against the other entries. The mayor’s team is the only creation that comes close in terms of design or quality. Their recreation of the library is more highly detailed, but it’s far smaller.
I’m not sure how many points a team receives for ambition and scale, but if the score card skews in our favor…
Well, a win isn’t completely out of the realm of possibility.
The judging moves along quickly, proving everyone is eager to get outside to the barbecue truck or home for supper. Night is already falling, and many of these people have been here for hours, setting up and preparing before the competition even began.
As Beatrix, the head judge, takes the mic, we join hands. And yes, I feel a little ridiculous, but with Holly on one side and Timmy on my other, I’m strangely happy to be a part of this silly thing.
Sometimes silly things can still be meaningful, I realize, gazing down at Holly’s profile as the winners are announced.
The historical preservation society’s near-perfect replication of the town theater wins honorable mention, losing points only for a lack of detail in the decoration. The Victorian mansion from Leonard and Nelson, executed with admirable skill despite the gnarled state of their arthritic hands, wins third.
Holly’s fingers tighten around mine, and Paulie pulls in a sharp breath. Even Timmy begins to tremble slightly, clearly understanding that we’re in the top two. We have to be; none of the other entries can compare.
Which means…this is it.
In another second, Beatrix will announce second place, and we’ll know…
“And in second place, the incredible little library from Hattie’s team. Truly a charming entry showcasing a gorgeous degree of detail,” Beatrix says, rolling almost instantly into, “Which means we have new Gingerbread Jubilee champions!”
In the next breath, she confirms what we all already know in our bones,
“Congratulations to the Terrors of Town Hall for their jaw-dropping recreation of one of Silver Bell Falls’ most iconic buildings! Amazing work, team! And, might I say, one heck of a comeback!”
Timmy launches straight up into the air like a popcorn kernel. Marge thrusts both hands to heaven and shuts her eyes. Paulie whoops, high-fiving his team before pointing an accusing finger toward Hattie’s table: “Take that, cracked cookies! Not today, Satan. Not today!”
Meanwhile, Holly finishes her victory dance with a high kick and sparkle fingers. A beat later, she’s on me, flinging her arms around my neck, her vanilla-scented breath hot on my chest as she laughs. The sound goes through my sweater, into my ribs, dissolving the last of my ability to play it cool.
Let the town see, let them talk.
I need to hug this woman too much to keep my hands to myself.
I catch her—one hand at her waist, the other between her shoulder blades—squeezing tight enough to lift her off the floor. And for a moment, the entire room falls away.
There’s no town hall full of people, no judging committee on the stage, just the perfect feel of Holly against me, where it seems she’s always been meant to fit.
