Chapter 4 Clara
FOUR
CLARA
As soon as the movers had finished unloading all of my decorations into the garage and part of the living room, I gave them a high five—which they cautiously reciprocated—and they drove off.
Now that I was alone, it felt only fitting that the first thing to do in the new place was to bake Christmas cookies. A sort of holiday christening. A way to get all the good juju flowing.
The smell of sugar and vanilla coated the rental as I pulled open the oven door with my Santa-shaped oven mitts.
I took a moment to inhale the sweet, steam-filled air before I grabbed the cookie sheet and pulled it out.
I was three dozen cookies in, and this never got old.
There was something so soothing about cookies fresh from the oven, that it filled me with complete and utter calm.
Forget therapy, just bake Christmas cookies.
I chuckled to myself as I kicked the oven closed and then turned to set the hot cookie sheet on the hand-stitched pot holders of Santa’s face that I made Gran in home economics in tenth grade.
The fabric was worn in places, which only endeared them even more to me.
It was a representation of the thousands of cookies that we’d made over the years.
My heart squeezed. I missed Gran so much, and I hoped I was doing her proud by keeping our love of Christmas alive.
I moved to pick up the reindeer-shaped spatula, and my phone buzzed, momentarily interrupting the Christmas music it was currently playing. I glanced down to see that it was a text from Linda.
Just checking in to see if you’re settled.
I smiled as I wiped my hands on my poinsettia patterned apron and picked up my phone.
House is GREAT! So cozy. A little lacking in holiday decorations, but no worries, I brought my own.
After I sent the text, I watched as the three little dots started and stopped over and over again. I frowned. What was she trying to say? Finally, her text came through.
I’m glad. Just stay away from Silas, the neighbor. He can be a bit grouchy.
I chuckled. “The Grinch of Grinchland?” I murmured as I started to respond to her text.
I’ll keep an eye out for vanishing Who-hash or disappearing Christmas trees.
Linda didn’t respond, and the current Christmas song had finally started to amp up.
I turned up the volume and began humming, but that quickly turned into singing and an impromptu dance party in the kitchen.
My spatula became the microphone and my apron became the edge of my dress.
I twirled and moved to the music. No one could ever accuse me of not immersing myself in the holiday spirit.
My cheeks were warm and I was slightly sweaty as the song wound down, so I leaned over and pulled open the nearby kitchen window.
It faced the large, ominous mansion next to me.
The place was dark and dingy during the day and even worse at night.
It was in desperate need of some Christmas lights or an inflatable to brighten it up.
Just as I started to turn away, I paused when a shadow appeared in the top right window.
It had the build of a man—Silas, maybe? The curtains were drawn, so I couldn’t see details, just the outline.
Then a smaller, more bouncy figure appeared next to him.
Curiosity was eating me alive, so I leaned on my elbows to watch the scene unfold.
They were talking, the little girl and the man.
He had his hands out like he was trying to get her to calm down—a stance I very much recognized from the last three years of teaching.
The little girl settled as she turned so her back was to him.
He looked like he was brushing her hair before it turned into some indiscernible movement that left me wondering if he was braiding it.
I smiled. That was sweet. Sure, they didn’t have any Christmas decorations, which felt like a crime, especially with a child living there, but maybe they just didn’t believe in Christmas. Too bad. Being with kids during this time of year was one of the reasons I became a kindergarten teacher.
Maybe I could introduce the family to the joys of this holiday season.
Realizing that I’d left the cookies on the sheet for too long, I turned and made my way back to the counter. I sang along with the music blaring from my phone but forced myself to focus on the task at hand. Maybe if I had enough cookies decorated, I’d bring over a plate to my new neighbors.
I was halfway through piping the outline for the Grinch cookies when three solid knocks sounded on the door. I frowned as I glanced around, wondering if I had heard right. When the sound didn’t come again, I moved to start piping some more frosting, and the knocks returned.
There really was someone at my front door.
I set my icing bag down and rinsed my hands in the sink. I was drying them on my apron as I approached the front door. A dark shadow loomed in the narrow window to the side. If there were Christmas lights up, this person would have looked a lot less creepy.
I flipped on the porch light and unlocked the door.
A man in a dark suit was standing there with his arms folded and a sour look on his face.
He had dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes.
His scowl could make even the happiest of gingerbread men frown.
The only thing that looked excited to see me was the golden retriever sitting next to this man’s leg with his head cocked to the side and an inquisitive look in his eyes.
“Can I help you?” I asked as I peered past him to the street to see if there was any clue as to who this man was and why he was here.
He did the same to me, glancing into the house before he returned his gaze to mine. “I’m Silas St. Nick.”
My eyebrows went up. Did I just hear what I thought I heard? “Silas…St. Nick?” I asked. I couldn’t believe my luck. What a perfect last name.
Silas’s gaze darkened. “Yes. That is my name.”
I nodded. “I love it,” I whispered.
He frowned and peered down his nose at me like he was trying to figure out if I was joking. If he only knew how serious I was. Plus, I dealt with cranky five-year-olds all day. If he thought one sour look would have me cowering in my boots, he was sorely mistaken.
“What can I do for you, Silas St. Nick.” I wiggled my eyebrows at him.
“What are you doing?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest.
I pointed to the ground. “Do you mean right now or before you knocked on my door?”
He paused like he was listening to something. “Are you listening to Christmas music?”
This was a strange conversation, but I was new, and Gran always said it was best to keep in the good graces of your neighbors.
“Yep,” I said with an enthusiastic nod. “And…I’m making Christmas cookies.
” I leaned in. “But don’t tell the Christmas police.
” A light-hearted joke felt appropriate here.
Hopefully, I could crack his icy exterior that even the most seasoned ice sculptor would struggle with.
Silas didn’t even offer me a courtesy laugh. His lips remained flat and his eyes definitely weren’t twinkling. He was not living up to his last name.
He sighed. Big. Like I was somehow inconveniencing him even though he was the one standing on my doorstep. “Since you’re new, I’m going to let it slide and not cite you, but I would stop”—he circled his hand in front of me like I would know what he meant—“all of this.”
Now I was super confused. I glanced down to where he’d motioned and then back up.
“All of what?” I was trying to make one plus one equal two, but I was struggling to get there.
Because the only conclusion I could come up with was so absurd that it hurt to think it.
“Stop…Christmas?” I asked slowly, enunciating each syllable.
And then the most unthinkable thing happened. Silas nodded. That’s what he meant?
“Yes. Participation in Christmas festivities is outlawed here in Grinchland. Hence the name. Grinchland.” He sounded it out as he leaned toward me and raised his eyebrows.
This was so insane, I laughed. This had to be a joke. Right? “You’re joking.”
But Silas didn’t join in on my laughter. Instead he just stared at me. “I’m not joking.”
I paused before I pointed my finger at him. “Was that a joke?”
“Good night,” he said as he started to turn away.
My mind was reeling with questions, and I didn’t want him to walk away before I could get any of them answered. “Are you saying that I can’t celebrate Christmas? That I’m going to, what…get fined? Arrested?”
Silas didn’t even bother to turn all the way around. Instead, he just glanced at me from over his shoulder. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Then he paused. “Except for the arrested part. But if you fail to pay the fines…” He shrugged. “It’s up to you.”
I sputtered as my brain short-circuited, trying to understand what he was saying. Silas, however, didn’t seem to care. He glanced down at his dog and made a clicking noise.
“Come on, Dog,” he said as he walked across the porch to the stairs.
Dog? He named his dog, Dog? How original.
“That’s ridiculous. You know that, right?” was all I could manage to shout after him.
“I don’t care,” he called back as he continued down the walkway.
When it became apparent that he wasn’t going to come back and tell me this was all a joke, some strange form of new-resident hazing, I humphed and hurried back inside.
With the door shut behind me, I slumped against it.
Was he serious? Was I really going to get fined if I tried to celebrate Christmas?
Was that legal?
The numbers in my bank account weren’t going to support the amount of Christmas that just spilled out of me when I wasn’t even trying. And it was December. The month I got to be…me.
I crossed my arms and stared at the floor. This had to be a joke. “You can’t outlaw Christmas…right?” I whispered.