Page 13 of Christmas on Ice
Yeah. Well. He seems handy, at least. We’re going to get the generator from the old barn.
Okay. I can stay here till whenever.
Thanks.
Kami might not be happy when she woke up, but it was better for Brenna to be safe than try to brave the storm when I was already here. She had enough on her plate. And it made me feel better that she wasn’t alone.
I put my phone on the coffee table and crossed the room to the front window. We were only expecting to get a few inches, but I’d been told by the locals that the bigger flakes were unpredictable. I peeked in on Ryleigh, who was sleeping soundly, and checked on Kami, who hadn’t shifted since she’d lain down. Her even breathing was settling, and before I headed back to the couch, I checked to make sure the doors and windows were secured.
The small sofa wasn’t made for six-foot-three humans to nap on, so I bent my knees over one end so I could at least lay my backside down. I stuffed a throw pillow under my head and found a fuzzy princess-themed blanket that was bunched up at the end of the couch to pull over my chest. I wasn’t cold yet, but if the restaurant had lost power, Kami’s house might, too. Eventually, I dozed off.
“Hey, that’s my blankie! I need my blankie back!”
I blinked my eyes open to the blinding light of morning and a glaring Ryleigh. She stared me down like an inquisitor. “Ugh, sorry?” I tugged on the blanket and held it out as a peace offering.
Ryleigh sighed dramatically. “Why are you here, Mr. Tiggerman?”
“Um…” I looked over toward Kami’s bed. She was still asleep in the same position. “Your mommy bumped her head really hard last night. She needs to rest. So I’m here to make sure you”—I booped her lightly on her nose with my finger—“are taken care of.”
“Ohh.” She looked toward her mom, then back at me. “Well, I can tell you how to do that.”
“Do … what?”
“Take care of me.” She booped me on the nose, and I grinned. “First, you make me breakfast. I like chocolate waffles with ketchup. Then we put on Thinter Bale movies. Then, we play GAMES!” She giggled and jumped up and down, and I couldn’t help laughing with her.
“Waffles with ketchup?” Had I heard her right?
“I don’t like that sticky dippy sauce. Ketchup is waaaaaay better.”
This kid sure was an original. “Okay, but you have to promise to be very quiet so your Mommy can rest, okay?”
“OKAY!” Her loud whisper was louder than her normal voice.
Ryleigh took my hand and pulled me into the kitchen, whisper-yelling all the way. A glance out the nearby window revealed the snow was still falling and we’d accrued over a foot of powder already.
I toasted her waffles, and she showed me where to find her special ketchup-dipping cup. I handed her the bottle, and she gleefully squirted the viscous red topping mostly into the tiny bowl.
The waffles popped up, and I put them on a plate.
“That’s the wrong plate, Mr. Tiggerman.”
“It is?”
She sighed dramatically and grabbed my hand, dragging me to a low cabinet next to the sink, where she flung open the door. Inside were stacks of fairy-themed cups, bowls, plates, placemats—you name it, it was in there.
I didn’t want to pick the wrong plate twice. “Why don’t you choose the one that’s best for waffles?” I said.
She clapped and let go of me to retrieve a bright green plate with a bunch of fairies in the center. “This one!”
“Okay.” I took it from her, transferred the waffles from the wrong plate, and popped two more into the toaster for me.
I picked up her ketchup and waffles and took it to the table. She climbed up into a chair and fixed her brown eyes on me. “I can’t eat these.”
I blinked a few times. “Why not?”
“You didn’t cut them.”
“Ah. I can do that.” I rummaged through a few drawers before I found a butter knife and returned to the table, where I proceeded to cut the waffle into square quarters.
