Chapter 25 #2
My first thought is thank goodness we made the bed and hid the pillows in the closet.
My second is to ask her what she means by “everything”, but Alex is already heading upstairs.
When we reach the room, I see several cardboard boxes stacked in front of the dresser, each labeled “Christmas ornaments” in thick black marker.
There’s also a Christmas tree stand waiting beside them.
Alex makes quick work of getting the tree in the stand. He grabs several strings of lights and starts to weave them into the tree, but I convince him to turn the lights on first so we can get a better idea about coverage.
“Sounds like you’ve done this a time or two,” Alex says.
“I decorate all the trees at Beans to Go,” I say, then tell him how the owner has given me money to add more trees and decorations every year and how I stretch the money by searching thrift stores and yard sales.
Once we get the lights strung, we open the ornament boxes.
They’ve been picked over, and I suspect these are the leftovers from the downstairs tree, but I’m not complaining.
Alex picks up ornaments and asks me where to hang them.
When I tell him to hang them anywhere, he teases me, saying, “Are you kidding? That’s like Picasso telling a middle-school football player to dab some paint on his masterpiece. ”
I grab an embroidered lumbar pillow that says To All A Goodnight in one of the boxes and throw it at him, laughing as I say, “That’s what you get for making fun of me.”
It smacks him on the side of the head, and he freezes. For a terrifying moment, I’m worried I’ve gone too far, but then he turns to me, a grin spreading across his face. “Looks like someone’s really dying for a snowball fight.”
He picks up the pillow and tosses it back to me, but he’s thrown it like we’re playing catch, and I easily catch it.
“Knock, knock,” Mallory says from the open doorway as she raps on the doorjamb. “You two look like you’re up to no good.”
I turn to her, beaming. “Just decorating our tree.”
“I hope you checked it for squirrels,” she says, looking it over.
“We checked,” Alex says. “Twice.”
“Well then, you may have started a new tradition.” She smiles her approval. “We all might put trees in our rooms.”
“Not this year,” Alex says. “This year it’s just for Finley.”
“Don’t be silly,” I say with a frown. “Other people can have trees in their rooms if they want.”
Mallory walks away, then turns back at the door.
“Oh! I almost forgot. Mom made some beef and barley soup for lunch along with some corn muffins. Hey, Finley, we’re going to do more baking this afternoon if you want to help.
She wants to get it all done before Grant and Eloise show up around dinnertime. ”
“You’re doing more baking?” I ask in surprise. “She said y’all got everything done yesterday.”
She shrugs. “She realized she gave most of the Christmas candy to the neighbors and that’s Grant’s favorite part of Christmas, so… more baking.” Her face brightens. “What do you say? Do you want to help?”
I do, but we’re supposed to pick up the stockings this afternoon. “Yeah, but…”
“You stay, Fin,” Alex says. “There’s no need for you to come with me to get the… package.”
I feel bad, because it was my idea to get stockings, and now he’s stuck picking them up.
But he seems to be able to read my mind—or more likely my face. “Finley,” he assures me, “you know you want to bake. You stay here, and I’ll take care of it. I really don’t mind.”
I notice the pile of bags on the floor. “And when you get back, maybe we can wrap presents.”
Mallory’s mouth drops. “You haven’t wrapped your presents yet, dude?”
“Of course not,” he says. “They’d just get crushed in the suitcase.”
She frowns as she stares at his open carry-on case on the floor. “Your suitcase isn’t very big.”
“You know what they say about good things coming in small packages,” Alex says.
Mallory shrugs. “But some of us like our packages big.” Then she flips her hair over her shoulder and flounces off.
“Did my sister just make a sex joke?” he asks with fear in his eyes.
“Yeah,” I say with a laugh. “I think she did.”
He closes his eyes and shudders. “I think I’m going to need to bleach my brain.”
“Don’t be so dramatic.” I grin, then turn to check out our handiwork.
He studies it too then shoves his hands into his front jeans’ pockets. “I should have bought some better ornaments.”
I shake my head. “No. It’s perfect just as it is.” It may be covered with leftover, mismatched ornaments, but it’s our tree. And I love it.
“It’s missing a star at the top,” he says, then walks over to the boxes and shuffles things around.
“It doesn’t need a star,” I say, mostly because there isn’t a tree topper in the boxes. I’ve already checked three times.
“We can’t leave it bare,” he says, his brow furrowed.
I walk over and grab his stocking cap off the dresser and put it on top of the tree. “There. Now it has a topper.”
He laughs. “I think you got the tree confused with a snowman.”
I cross my arms over my chest as I admire our work. “I don’t believe in stereotypes.”
He watches me with an intense gaze for several seconds, long enough that I feel uncomfortable. It’s not a lustful gaze, more like I’m a language he doesn’t know how to read, but he’s trying.
I’m not sure what I said that could make him so pensive, but I need to lighten the mood again, so I throw the pillow at him and rush for the door.
“What was that for?” he calls after me with a laugh.
“Practicing up for our future snowball fight.”