But the biggest surprise, and the one I can’t seem to get over, is the fact that he’s a double agent in the CIA, working for both sides.
I guess I don’t know him as well as I thought.
Or maybe I do. Maybe all the information that’s being fed to me is wrong. It’s hard to decipher who’s telling the truth when I’m not even telling the truth. I mean, I’m not actually introuble.
I wish I could just walk up to Park and ask him. “Hey, it’s me, Sienna. Are you a double agent? Because if you’re not, we need to clear your name. And if you are, then I’m going to kill you with my bare hands.” I don’t know. Something with more finesse or more eloquence than that, but still gets the same point across.
The problem is, I can’t just walk up to Park and reveal myself. I have to sit back and watch until I know for sure who to believe.
But one thing’s for sure, I’m sick of waiting around and wondering if Park’s telling me the truth while he plays reindeer games. And beyond that, Todd Allen is hounding me for an update. I’m not sure how much longer I can keep Park’s location hidden.
TWENTY-TWO
PARK
December 21
The next morning,I knock on the Warren’s front door. Lacee and I made plans to hang out today, but first things first. I have to find the computer chip.
“Hey, Park,” Bruce says as he opens the door. “Are you here to make gingerbread houses with us?”
“Maybe.” I shrug. “Lacee just said to stop by around 11 a.m.”
The timing worked out perfectly since I went to the assisted living home and had breakfast with Mary. We planned it last night, and I was surprised by how much I was looking forward to it.
“Well, come on in.” Bruce holds the door open wider. “We’re happy to have you.”
I step inside, and my eyes immediately go to the tree in the living room and the stack of presents circling the bottom of it.
“We’re in here.” Bruce gestures to the kitchen.
“Park!” Lacee calls. “You’re just in time for the gingerbread house competition.”
The entire Warren family is sitting around the kitchen table. Stacks of gingerbread are spread out with tubes of frosting next to them, and there’s got to be twenty different bowls of colorful candy lined up.
“This looks serious,” I say as I walk up to the table.
“It is serious.” Lacee’s expression is severe. “We don’t mess around when it comes to making gingerbread houses.”
“And whoever makes the best house,” Cassi chimes in, “gets to open one present on Christmas Eve.”
I nod. “High stakes.”
“Thehighest.” Lacee smiles as she kicks out the chair beside her. “Come on. You have to make one too.”
“These look professionally done.” I slowly sink into my seat, glancing around the table at the beginning stages of each of their houses. “I’m not sure I can keep up with all of you.”
“Nonsense!” Gina frowns. “This is just for fun.”
“And to be able to open a present before everyone else.” Erika doesn’t even look at me when she speaks. She’s focused on adding shingles to her roof.
I’ve never made a gingerbread house before—another shocking revelation from the Park Bradshaw Christmas sob story.
“I’ll give it a try.” I shrug, picking up supplies. “How hard can it be?”
Hard.
Making a gingerbread house that actually stays together with frosting that doesn’t drip all over the place has become my own mission impossible.
