“Why would I want your dang reindeer? I’ve got my own. And don’t you think if I took it you’d see it proudly displayed in my yard?” the woman fires back, cheeks red and voice climbing.
“Proudly?” The man crosses his arms and nods. “You’re not kidding, it would be proudly. They’re the kind of reindeer you showcase.” He tips his head toward her flock of reindeer.
Flock? Swarm? Herd?Whatever a bunch of plastic reindeer is called.
“Not like that batch of Rudolphs you’ve got over there,” he says. “Misfits, every last one of them.”
“They’re eclectic,” she shouts. “I’ve got a whole aesthetic!”
“So does Goodwill!”
Jesse blows a whistle—an honest to goodness whistle. Both parties spin toward us, wide-eyed, like they hadn’t noticed the patrol car at all.
“Stuart. Grace,” Jesse says evenly. “Meet my new partner, Alex.”
“Well, hello, dear,” Grace says, her face miraculously transformed. “I’ve been meaning to stop by with a casserole.”
“Nice to meet you,” Stuart says, extending his hand. “Welcome to Bordeaux.”
“Thank you,” I say, trying to find my equilibrium in light of their sudden shift of demeanor.
“Now, Stuart,” Jesse says. “Jeanie called—said you two were at it over the yard décor again.”
“Not me,” Stuart says in a tone reminiscent of a sibling being accused of breaking a lamp during a skirmish.
“Not you, my patootie,” Grace fires back. “He’s stealing all the electricity on the block. Look at this place. No, don’t look—you’ll burn a retina. Honestly, how many lights does one man need?”
“Says the woman with ten inflatables going every night,” Stuart mutters. “It sounds like the tarmac on the muni airfield out here!”
Jesse raises both hands, calm and steady, his serious-cop expression in place. “All right, all right. Before both of you end up on the naughty list, let’s take it down a notch.”
Grace crosses her arms and mutters. “He’s stealing my power.”
“She’s defaming the neighborhood,” Stuart shoots back.
Jesse calmly walks up the driveway, positioning himself between the two adversaries. “Pretty sure the grid can handle both of you. We checked the transformer after last year’s Candy Cane Catastrophe.” He pauses just long enough for that memory to sink in. “But maybe turn everything off by ten? No one’s outand about after then anyway—unless it’s Santa, and he brings his own lighting.”
Grace sniffs, though she’s smiling at Jesse. “Fine. But I didn’t take your reindeer, Stuart.”
“Fine,” Stuart echoes. “If she agrees to ten, so do I. And I’d like to file a missing reindeer report.”
Jesse gives them each a nod. “Look at that—peace on earth, goodwill toward neighbors.”
I look at Stuart. “If you have any photos of the reindeer in question, email them to the station—we’ll keep an eye out.”
“Thank you,” he says. “I’ve got plenty.”
“He sure does,” Grace jabs, but there’s no heat in her words.
“We good here?” Jesse asks.
Both neighbors nod.
As we walk back to the cruiser, I murmur, “You missed your calling—you should’ve been a marriage counselor.”
“Nah,” he says, opening my door as if we’re on a date, not my first day at work. “I just know how to put myself in someone else’s shoes.”
While he rounds the front of the cruiser, I can’t help smiling. He’s a good man. I’ve observed him in three different situations today, and in each one he shined without needing to be noticed—steady, charming, and obviously fluent in small-town diplomacy. A dangerous combination.
