Chapter 7
Brooks
Letting Ruby dress herself before we left to go shopping might have been the best decision I could’ve made.
I wasn’t just walking down the street in Snowberry Peak with a seven-year-old. I was walking with a pint-sized elf in a glittery green dress, striped red-and-white tights, and fuzzy reindeer slippers with tiny jingle bells on the toes. Each step made her feet chime like a holiday parade.
The only input I had was the puffy jacket I’d made her wear, and judging by her scowl when I zipped it up, you’d think I’d committed some crime against childhood.
“Are we going to my Tinsel & Tots?” she asked as we neared the row of little boutiques that made up Main Street.
“That’s the plan,” I said.
I’d figured checking out her go-to spot would be a good way for me to learn more about town. Maybe even earn a point or two in her very serious, very unspoken ranking system of people she approved of.
She pushed open the door without hesitation, the bells above jingling as we stepped inside.
The place was… an explosion of pinks, purples, and sparkles.
Unicorns wearing Santa hats danced across the walls in framed prints.
Racks of sequined jackets, tutus, and themed pajamas filled the space.
I felt like I’d just stepped into the brain of a glitter-obsessed seven-year-old.
Ruby tugged on my hand, craning her neck to look up at me. “What’s my budget?”
“Budget?”
“Yeah,” she said matter-of-factly. “Mom always gives me a limit when she takes me here. What is it?”
I blinked. In my mind, this had been a quick, harmless outing—window shopping, maybe grabbing a hot chocolate after. Buying things hadn’t crossed my mind.
“I don’t… I thought we were just window shopping,” I admitted.
She narrowed her eyes, still holding onto my hand but with a suspicious new grip like she was squeezing to inflict pain so I’d say the right answer. “What’s window shopping?”
Jesus.
I sighed, let go of her hand, and pulled my wallet from my back pocket. I held up a crisp hundred-dollar bill. “Is this enough?”
Her eyes lit up like someone had just plugged in the town’s Christmas tree.
“It’s enough,” she declared, snatching it from my hand. “Best. Nanny. Ever.” And with that, she bolted.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa—” I started, but she was already darting between racks. I gave chase, but she juked right at the last second, and I lost sight of her.
“Welcome in,” a teenage girl behind the counter said, blowing a bubble with her gum before it popped.
Next to her, an older woman folded clothes with quick, practiced movements. She glanced up and immediately smiled like she knew exactly who I was.
“Ah, so you must be Ruby’s new nanny,” she said.
The teenager’s eyes went wide, and she muffled a laugh behind her fist.
“That’s me,” I confirmed, stepping forward and offering my hand. “Brooks.”
The woman’s handshake was firm, her gaze sharp as if she were sizing me up. Then she nodded, apparently deciding I passed whatever test she’d just run in her head. “Nice to meet you, Brooks. I’m Sloane. And that’s my granddaughter, Madeline.”
Before I could say more, Ruby’s voice cut through the store.
“Brooks! Come find me! Don’t you know how to play hide-and-seek? What nanny doesn’t?”
I grinned, excused myself from Sloane and Madeline, and went hunting.
This girl was relentless. Just this morning, she’d made me twist balloon animals into a Santa hat and sword, then whacked me over the head with said sword until I surrendered. I’d stepped right into that one.
It was only day one, but I was already learning.
“You didn’t tell me to count,” I called, crouching to peer between racks.
Silence, except for the faintest giggle.
Shoppers glanced up now and then, smirking, clearly entertained. I scanned the aisles until I spotted the giveaway, a pair of fuzzy reindeer slippers poking out beneath the curtain of a changing room.
Gotcha.
“Huh,” I said loudly. “Sloane, Madeline, have either of you seen my dear friend Ruby?”
“Nope,” Sloane replied without missing a beat.
“Who’s Ruby?” Madeline added, smirking.
Another tiny giggle came from behind the curtain. I crept forward.
“Where could… she… be…” I yanked the curtain open and pounced.
Ruby squealed, trying to dart past me with the hundred-dollar bill still clutched in her hand, but I caught her and swung her over my shoulder.
“Found ya!” I said, spinning her once for good measure.
She laughed so hard she hiccupped, kicking her slippered feet. “Put me down!”
The other customers were openly watching us now, smiles on their faces. I set her down gently, and she looked up at me with cheeks flushed from laughing.
“Can I put on a fashion show for you?” she asked, clutching the money to her chest like a golden ticket.
I gave a mock-serious nod. “Absolutely. Show me what you’ve got.”
Her grin was so wide, she darted off toward the racks, slippers jingling with each step.
Something told me I should probably get that hundred back before she dropped it while looking at glittery tutus and came back asking for more.
My arms were overflowing with tulle, sequins, and glitter. It was an avalanche of tutus and sparkly tops that Ruby had deemed “essential” for her fashion show.
Every time she spotted something she liked, she tossed it at me without so much as a glance back. I was basically her personal shopping mule, trailing behind while she darted from rack to rack like a sugar-fueled hummingbird.
Finally, after what felt like hours, she stopped mid-aisle and gave me the royal decree.
“Okay, Brooks. You may now deliver my treasures to the dressing room.”
The boutique had clearly been designed with little girls’ imaginations in mind because there was even a walkway for the kids to show off—a place for pint-sized models to strut their stuff under twinkling string lights.
Sloane, the shop owner, appeared like the head stylist for the event, a grin on her face as she offered to help Ruby stage her big moment.
I found a seat in what I’m sure was supposed to be a “comically oversized” pink chair for children, though for me it was simply a torture device.
My knees stuck up awkwardly, and I had to angle myself sideways just to fit.
I was a grown man perched in a bubblegum throne, ready for the most chaotic runway show Snowberry Peak had probably ever seen.
A moment later, Sloane popped her head out of the dressing room, her expression conspiratorial.
“Here she comes,” she whispered.
“Close your eyes!” Ruby’s voice rang out from behind the curtain.
I obeyed, hands over my face, feeling ridiculous but strangely invested in the suspense. There was a flurry of movement, the soft thump of slippered feet taking position, and then—
“Ready!”
I lowered my hands and there she was. Ruby stood in a blaze of yellow, wearing a tutu so bright it could have been spun from sunlight, paired with a glittering matching jacket. Her striped tights from earlier were still on, clashing gloriously. And her grin… that was the real showstopper.
She struck a pose, one hand cocked on her hip, then sashayed down the runway with exaggerated hip sways that would’ve made any pageant coach proud.
“Woo!” I called, clapping and cheering like she was headlining a Broadway show.
Ruby’s grin widened until I thought it might split her cheeks. She twirled at the end of the walkway, her tulle skirt spinning like a blooming flower, and then marched back to the dressing room with the confidence of someone who’d just conquered Paris Fashion Week.
One by one, she emerged in new ensembles—floral jeans and a cozy sweater, a star-spangled jumper, a candy-cane striped dress.
Some outfits were louder than others, but I made sure to cheer just as loudly for each one.
She didn’t need to know which pieces were “practical” and which ones screamed look at me. To her, they all deserved applause.
At the end of every strut, she paused in front of the mirror, tilting her head to admire herself. Every time, she gave this tiny satisfied nod, as though confirming that yes—this was fashion history in the making.
By the finale, my hundred-dollar bill was nothing more than a fond memory, and Ruby was the proud new owner of four very sparkly, very Ruby-approved outfits.
As we left the boutique, shopping bags swinging from my hands and Ruby still in her bright yellow tutu (because “obviously” she had to wear it out), I couldn’t help smiling. Two weeks with her was going to be loud, unpredictable, and probably expensive.
But I had the sneaking suspicion it was also going to be the best two weeks I’d had in a very long time.