Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
CLARA
I celebrated a bit inside when Silas went along with my plot to pick out a Christmas tree.
I honestly thought that he was going to put up a bigger fight.
Granted, I’d come prepared with logical reasons as to why cutting down a tree didn’t have to solely be a Christmas tradition.
I could tell that he thought it was a stretch, but he didn’t demand we leave, so I went ahead with it.
I was just as prepared for our second stop. After a quick Google search, I discovered that one of the best places to get hot chocolate in Maine was only twenty miles out from Grinchland. Cornerstone Cafe was in a small town called Lewisville. The reviews for this place were off the charts.
Silas looked confused as I pulled into the parking lot. When he opened the front door to the diner and saw the big sign that said, Santa’s Stamp of Approval: Best Hot Chocolate Ever, he glanced over at me deadpan.
“Hey, all chocolate is liquid at some point. Are you saying that it’s all Christmas related?” I was speaking the truth. “Besides, it’s chocolate and it’s hot. That’s all.”
He looked annoyed but didn’t demand that we head back to my car and drive back to Grinchland.
Instead, he ordered a water while Isabelle and I ordered something called Rudolph’s Red Nose, which was a peppermint hot chocolate with a giant dollop of whip cream, Santa sprinkles, and a cherry on top.
I ordered it sans the sprinkles because that would make it Christmas.
Isabelle and I giggled as we tried to outdo the other on how big of a whip cream mustache we could make. We made it to the tip of our noses and then spent the next few minutes with our eyes crossed, looking at them.
My gaze drifted over to Silas, who was sitting there with his glass of water and ice, watching us.
His expression was unreadable, but he seemed content.
When I offered him my cup of cocoa so he could join us, he wrinkled his nose and stated that he preferred his chocolate solid as opposed to a liquid.
I clapped my hands before I pointed to him and declared that he was getting it.
He was not amused.
Our next stop was in Kirkland, about twenty minutes to the east of Grinchland.
I’d read online that there was an ice sculpture display that rivaled the Harbin International Ice and Snow Sculpture Festival in China.
I’d been wanting to go since I got to Grinchland but hadn’t found the time. Today seemed like the perfect time.
The display was in downtown Kirkland. I heard Silas sigh as we drove by the sign that announced the Ice Sculpture Garden was ten miles away.
I glanced over at him, but he was already looking at me expectantly.
Like he was just waiting for me to come up with some ridiculous reason why he shouldn’t be angry.
How ice sculptures didn’t have to be Christmas related.
And I did just that. As soon as we were parked and walking toward the entrance, I explained to him that ice sculptures were used for all kinds of things. Weddings. Dinner parties. Graduations. They were used on cruises. And none of those things screamed Christmas.
He kept his lips drawn into a tight line as he listened to me. He didn’t believe me, but thankfully, he seemed to appreciate the effort I put into my reasoning.
I made sure to point out every ice sculpture that wasn’t Christmas themed. The horse. The castle. The shirtless man with a scarf around his neck. That one had us both staring at it with our heads tipped back wondering who was the one that signed off on that proposal.
By the end of the display, Silas had joined in with me, making note of all the non-Christmas sculptures.
We were exhausted by the time we got back to my car. Since the town we were in was on the other side of Grinchland, we had forty minutes until we were back home. Isabelle promptly fell asleep in the back after being on the road for five minutes. That left Silas and me to drive in silence.
I kept peeking over at him, wondering what he was thinking. Was he mad at me? He didn’t look mad. His expression was soft and his body language was relaxed. It was a night and day difference to how he reacted when I first met him on my porch.
But Silas’s body language didn’t always accurately depict his thoughts.
Did he feel like I’d hoodwinked him into doing Christmas things with his daughter?
I’d really tried to pick innocuous things for us to do.
Ones that would check off my Christmas bucket list while reminding him why this time of year was special.
My goal was still to get him to repeal his ban on Christmas, and I was determined to emerge triumphant at the end of these seven days.
I just wished there was a way of finding out if he was disappointed in me without asking point-blank.
“Tired?” I settled on an easy question to break the ice between us.
I could feel his gaze shift to me, but I decided to keep my focus on the road. He sighed. “Yeah.” Then he glanced over his shoulder. “But not as tired as Belly.” He paused, a soft smile spreading across his lips before he turned forward again.
“I hope it’s a good tired,” I said as I turned on my blinker and merged onto the highway. Once I was going the same speed as the other cars, I settled back in my seat.
“It’s an okay tired.”
An okay tired, I was okay with that. There was a lull as I tried to come up with something else to talk about.
“Is there a plan for tomorrow?”
His sudden question startled me, and I almost swallowed my tongue. I blinked, wondering if I’d heard his question right. When I glanced over, he was looking at me like he expected me to answer.
I’d heard right. It was just so startling because it didn’t hold the same level of annoyance he’d had in the past.
“I have a few things planned…if you want.” I still wasn’t sure if he was serious or joking. I was waiting for him to yell, “Psych!” before telling me that there was no chance he’d ever want to spend time with me.
“I’m guessing it’s ‘not’ Christmas related?” he asked, putting air quotes around the word not.
I wasn’t sure if he was serious, so I decided to take it as a joke.
I smiled and winked. “Yep. It’s not Christmas related.”
He studied me, confusion coating his gaze. “So it’s not Christmas related?”
Now I was getting confused as well. “No. I made you a promise that if it involves Isabelle, it won’t be Christmas related.” I glanced over at him. “I keep my promises.”
He held my gaze before he nodded. “I believe you.”
I turned my attention fully to the road so I could process what had just happened. There were a few moments today, when I caught Silas watching me, that he didn’t look disgusted or annoyed like he had in the past. Instead, he just looked…lost. Like he didn’t know what to think.
I tried to write it off as boredom. After all, just because Isabelle and I were enjoying ourselves, it didn’t mean Silas had the same enthusiasm. But then he’d say something, or do something, and I’d wonder if maybe I was getting through to him.
I wished I knew what had happened in his past for him to cancel Christmas. He seemed to tolerate my justifications for why today’s activities weren’t Christmas specific—even though I knew he thought it was ridiculous—so he had some level of acceptance for the holiday.
Without knowing the real reason, I felt like I was shooting in the dark. Trying to make two pieces come together when I couldn’t figure out the path to get them there.
As the principal, Maria had to know. She seemed like the perfect person to ask. Monday morning I was going to march right into her office and refuse to leave until she told me.
But there was a day and a half until school resumed, and I still had tomorrow’s festivities to get through. I’d plan something from my Christmas bucket list and hope it wasn’t the thing that would send Silas into a spiral where he’d call off this entire bet and walk away.
I started to slow when I got to his house. Just before I turned into his driveway, he spoke.
“I’ll help you unload your tree,” he said as he motioned to the roof of my car.
Right. The tree. “Um, okay,” I said as I picked up speed a bit so I could pull into my driveway. I kept my car running to keep Isabelle warm as we both climbed out and removed the straps that were holding the tree down.
Once it was loose, he pulled it down in one swift movement. I wasn’t sure what to do to help, so I settled on hurrying ahead of him so I could get the door. When we were both inside, I motioned toward the living room, where I’d set out a stand this morning.
Silas paused. “Are you sure you want this tree in your front window?” he asked. I thought he was going to remind me of the city ordinances that I would break. Instead, he glanced around. “It doesn’t really go with everything else.”
I did a quick once-over of the living room but came up with a completely different conclusion. “I think it fits perfectly with everything in this room.”
Sure, on the outside, it appeared that I had a certain aesthetic, but the truth was, if you looked closer, it had less to do with how things looked and more about how they made me feel.
Everything in this room had meaning to me.
Everything held memories that I feared I would forget if I ever let them go.
Picking out this tree with Isabelle was a memory I was going to cherish forever, even if she believed the reason we picked the tree was mundane.
I would never forget how she asked me to buy the tree that had no friends.
It showed her sweet heart and caring demeanor.
It reminded me of what was important and to not overlook that in favor of perfection.
But I doubted Silas would understand that.
“It’s perfect,” I said as I centered the tree stand in the middle of the window and then stepped back so Silas could hoist the trunk up and into the hole. Once it was straight, I knelt down and cinched the nuts to keep the tree upright.
Silas lingered for a moment, and I wondered if it was because he was waiting for me to change my mind. I found a nearby pair of scissors that we’d used last night for popcorn string and cut the netting around the tree.
Silas declared that he was going to head out. I was distracted with wrapping the tree with lights, so I just told him goodbye as he walked back to the front door and left. He carried Isabelle past the window as he made his way to his house.
Remembering that I’d left my car running, I set the lights down and hurried outside to turn it off.
When I got back inside, I focused my attention on placing the lights perfectly on each branch before I shifted to hanging the popcorn garland.
Once the tree was decorated to my satisfaction, my stomach growled, so I plugged the lights in and headed into the kitchen to reheat the soup I’d made last night.
With my spoon and bowl in hand, I made my way back to the living room to curl up on the couch and enjoy the ambiance of the Christmas lights.
The sun had disappeared beyond the horizon and darkness had coated the room.
Just as I tucked my right foot under me and moved to sit, someone in Silas’s front yard caught my attention.
I kept myself upright as I peered through the window to get a better look.
It seemed as if Silas was in his yard, hammering something into the snow-covered ground.
I moved closer to the window to get a better look.
In the light from my decorations mixed with the street lights, it looked like he was prepping Pudgie.
A smile emerged. He’d kept his word.
I took a few bites of my soup while I watched him finish staking the penguin. Then he headed back to his garage and out of my view. I wondered if he was going to actually turn it on—after all, that hadn’t been part of our agreement—but he returned with what looked like a wooden sign with him.
He pounded it into the ground next to where Pudgie was lying. Then, he moved to the front where he leaned from side to side like he was trying to assess if that was the right place to put it.
The way my eyes were glued to Silas, I felt like I was watching a murder mystery. I’d set my forgotten soup on the armrest behind me so I could fully focus.
Silas finally nodded, gathered his tools, and disappeared back into his garage. When he didn’t come back out, I settled in on the couch to finish my now cold soup.
I was humming to the Christmas music playing on my phone when, suddenly, Pudgie started to inflate. It was like watching the living dead rise up from the grave. I returned to my post by the window to see if I could get the full effect of the inflatable plus whatever Silas had added.
After craning my neck to get a better look, I could finally see what it was.
Written in black paint on a piece of plywood was the word, “Seriously?” with an arrow pointing to my house.