Chapter Eight
Baz sets up a fire for me in the sunroom, then leaves the house to search out Archie and retrieve our tree from whatever shed he’s stored it in. He isn’t gone long when I get a text telling me that he’ll “be a while,” which I take to mean that Archie is being contrary.
I consider venturing out to check on them, but ultimately decide that anything requiring a trek through the snow that doesn’t end in a fun, pre-planned Christmas activity is just not my problem. The boys can work themselves out. I will stay home in the cozy warmth and prepare for their eventual arrival.
I busy myself emptying a corner of the living room, making sure that the tree has somewhere to live when it finds its way here. I alternate between clearing space and warming myself by the fire in the sunroom as necessary.
Stupid power.
Stupid Archie.
It takes me a while because of the cold, but I manage to move a bookshelf, several potted plants, and a sorely unused fold-up treadmill to my room. After a bit of finagling, I get the treadmill under my bed and the shelf in front of my closet. Sure, I’ll have to slide the bookshelf out of the way every time I want to access my closet for the next several weeks, but that’s fine. It’ll be worth it.
Christmas is always worth it.
I haul the holiday decorations out from under the stairs, pausing when I find the plastic tub labeled “sunroom.” I grasp the excuse to spend some extended time by the fire and lug the box through the kitchen and out the door. I set it on the swinging couch, then pop the lid off.
The first thing I see, nestled safely on a green and red striped throw blanket, is a ceramic family of four little sheep. I smile.
“Well, hello there, sweet babies. Here, allow me to put you in a place of great honor! I know you have all that fleece to keep you warm, but the fireplace is just so lonely without you, you know?”
I gather them up, then set them neatly one by one on top of the fireplace. They stare back at me, and I interpret the “thank yous” in their shiny black eyes.
“You are so welcome! Let me know if you need anything. A blanket, some water – whatever. I am at your command!”
I bow to them, eyes catching on the fire as I bend down. Yikes. Need more wood.
I scurry to the pile by the door and grab two decently sized logs, adding them to the fading flames and crisping the hairs off my fingers for my trouble.
I curse, jerking my hands away from the heat and waving them around in the frigid air. When that doesn’t help, I make my way to the outside door, opening it just enough to reach my hands out and shove them into the snow coating the tall stack of logs Bazzy chopped up a couple of days ago. The relief is instant, but short-lived.
“Oh, gross, Heidi. You’re so dumb,” I mutter to myself. “The infection you’re going to get from this!” I pull my hands out of the delightfully chilled fluff and run inside, cleaning the burns in the sink. The water is almost as cold as the snow without electricity running to the water heater, and I thank Christmas magic that we have running water at all. Well water, my great love – always there when I need her.
I let my hands sit under the flow long after the suds have been rinsed away, reveling in the touch of cold on my singed skin. It smarts so badly, I’m surprised to find that once I do finally dry them off, the burns aren’t that bad at all.
“They didn’t even blister, you big baby,” I mumble, returning to the sunroom. “They’re barely even red.” My eyes roll, then I scoff. “Drama queen.”
I shake the final droplets of water off my fingers as I approach the box of decorations on the swinging couch.
“Now, where was I?”
Ignoring the sting on my hands, I set aside the striped throw blanket to get to the goodies beneath.
“Aha!” I yell as I unearth lights, candles, garlands, and more – each new discovery more sparkly than the last. I squeal, hopping up and down at the sight of all the pretty decorations, then I get to work.
By the time Baz returns – with Archie in tow – I’ve turned the sunroom into a winter wonderland of jolly and joy. Multicolor lights twisted into green garlands crisscross over the ceiling. Cedar and spice scented candles clutter every available surface, including the floor. Red, green, and gold bows are hooked into the screened windows. Golden cherubs fly through the bows, dodging reindeer and snowflakes like old pros, which they should be, considering they’ve had years of practice.
I’m snuggled up under a blanket on the couch making progress in my book when they walk in – the female main character still doesn’t know they’re married. She’s so silly.
“Heidi,” Archie starts, interrupting a rather adorable scene with the main male character’s daughter. I scowl at him.
He adopts a sheepish expression that does not fool me for one second, particularly as he’s wearing his idiotic maintenance man onesie, meaning that instead of coming to fix our electricity, he spent his morning perfecting his fancy dress. My scowl deepens.
He keeps talking.
“It has come to my attention that I have wronged you gravely–”
“You mean when you cut the electricity to my house in the dead of winter, forcing me to sleep in negative degrees?” I interrupt.
His mouth snaps shut, jaw working, then reopens.
“I think we both know you did not sleep cold last night,” he says, smugness layering his accent like icing on a snowman sugar cookie. My eyes narrow.
“Weren’t you apologizing, blockhead?” I ask.
He bares his teeth at me, then stops when his head shoots forward, courtesy of Baz’s hand smacking the back of it. Archie’s hand reaches up to rub the spot.
“All right! Calm down!” he grumbles, slithering out of Baz’s reach. He eyes the larger man cautiously but addresses his next words to me. “I’m very sorry for the inconvenience and discomfort I have caused you. It was not my intention, as you well know, to cause lasting trouble in your life. I seek only to help. I merely thought that if I–”
“I forgive you!” I yell before he can give Basil any hint of his ploy to solve my desperate pining and unrequited love. No need for Bazzy to know about all that, I say.
Cheeks as red as Rudolph’s nose, I jump off the couch. It swings behind me, chains complaining at the sudden force.
“Let’s get you to that breaker box, yeah? You can replace it lickity split and we’ll be all good!” I reach him and grab his shoulders, pointing him toward the door to outside and pushing. “You did go get the new one, didn’t you?” I ask as we reach the door. I open it, then try to push him through. I meet resistance.
“First of all, dear Heidi,” he says, “the box is inside the house, not outside.”
I look at his face, then the door I’m trying to shove him through.
Oh. Right. Okay then.
I close the door and twist him toward the kitchen instead. He allows this, but doesn’t let me move him any further.
Stupid, stupid Archie.
I scowl at his idiot face.
“Secondly,” he says, putting one finger on my forehead and using it to push me away. I huff, offended and annoyed that it works. Since when did his index finger get so strong?
“I have not been out to get what I need yet, no,” he continues. “I thought you might like to go with me. You have gift shopping to do still, yes?”
I stop struggling against his finger.
I do have gift shopping to do…
“Give me five,” I say, rushing past him and a crinkle-eyed Basil to get to my room.
I dress at top speed, motivated as much by the prospect of Christmas shopping as I am by the cold on my bare legs now that I’m away from the fire.
Once I’m all layered up in jeans, a long-sleeved t-shirt, and my favorite pink sweater, I head downstairs. I pull out my purple snow boots and a yellow winter coat and slide them on. I feel like a bag of colorful marshmallows. Hmm… I should get some of those. Yummy.
Adding them to my mental to-buy list, I make my way through the house to find the guys still in the sunroom.
Archie is spread out on his back on the couch, one arm pillowed under his head while the other holds my book, open, in front of his face. Baz is at the fireplace, bent over examining the sheep family. He adjusts the mother sheep, then lifts her, depositing her next to the father. Not satisfied, he nudges her closer until their sides are touching, then gives a barely perceptible head nod. I smile. What a cutie.
“Heidi, this book is absolutely scandalous . Did you know? Why, this throne scene is nearly indecent! Ghost pepper levels of spice in this thing!”
Baz straightens at the sound of Archie’s voice, and I wonder if it grates on his ears the way it does mine.
I guess not, since all he does is turn and raise an eyebrow at the lounging man.
I march to the couch, snatching my book out of his grubby paws.
“This book is clean and sweet, I’ll have you know. Doors firmly closed. Whatever scandal you think you’ve seen, think again.”
I sniff and do not mention that I agree. The throne scene was indeed hotness of the highest order. I mean, a man on his knees at the foot of your throne, ready and willing to worship you? Who wouldn’t think that’s call-the-fire-department levels of hot? An idiot, that’s who. But hot is not spicy, which even an idiot should know.
I turn on my heel, calling behind me, “I’m ready to go now.”
They follow me, good little ducks all lined up in a row.
We pause in the entryway to grab hats – cute red Santa ones with crisp white fur trim. I put mine on, then begrudgingly offer one to Archie, who shoves it on his head with a quickness that suggests he believes I might try to take it back.
He is not wrong.
Baz is significantly less thrilled about the opportunity for holiday whimsy. He crosses his arms and frowns, looking past the ring in his nose all the way down to me. I give him my best cajoling smile.
See my smile, Bazzy? Doesn’t it make you want to put on this hat? You want me to be happy, don’t you, my sweet Basil?
I open my eyes as wide as I can get them and flutter my lashes. Slowly, carefully, with my puppy eyes full of hope and wonder, I reach up to place the soft red hat on his head.
He does not stop me.
I beam.
His frown stays in place even as his eyes soften.
I love you.
I drop my hands from where they’ve been adjusting the hat – it must be perfectly crooked, of course – and grab his own. Three squeezes.
I love you, too.
His frown disappears.
“Enough of that!” Archie squawks beside us. Bazzy’s head whips toward him, thunderous.
“Go. Away.”
I snort.
“No, he’s right,” I intervene. Baz’s incredulous eyes meet mine. “We need to go, otherwise we won’t have time for tree decorating tonight. I want tree decorating, Bazzy. I need it. It has been promised to me, and so I shall have it. Yes?”
I put my hand on my hip, going for sassy attitude you’re-gonna-give-me-what-I-want energy. I fear I only succeed in giving pastel marshmallow kitten-without-claws energy.
Bother.
Baz concedes, though, despite my marshmallow vibes, so I count it as a win.
“Yay!” I yell, clapping my hands. “Time for Christmas! Merry and bright, people! Merry! And! Bright!”