Page 20 of Not Another Christmas Movie

“You should see the other guy,” Chris joked, gesturing to the giant snowballs that had once been stacked on top of each other. Nick was trying to gather more snow to round them out, but Chris took large strides over to the fallen balls and lifted the middle-sized one into the air as if it weighed nothing and gingerly placed it on top of the larger mound.

Annie watched, marveling at his impressive strength and skill. Nick let out a small huff before gathering the props Annie had dropped to the ground. Holly was already picking up the colored fabrics as if she, too, were in her own Olympic routine.

“Are you alright, Annie?” Chris asked kindly, turning his head back to her.

“Oh, yeah, I’m more embarrassed than anything. Is our snowman going to be okay?” Annie asked.

“He’s perfect,” Chris soothed, lifting the third large snowball on top of the other two, effortlessly setting it in place.

“I should have known those hands could handle large balls,” Grant encouraged Chris, admiring the progress he had made so far. Annie let out another choked cough of surprise.

“You can’t handle them too roughly or you’ll risk sacrificing their firmness,” Chris nodded. Annie let out a tiny squeak, finding it increasingly difficult to keep her impulse to giggle silenced.

“These balls look like they’ve been polished,” Grant said, stepping closer to their emerging snowman to get a better look. “Am I getting too close? I’d hate for my breath to warm them—”

“Chris! You should go pick out a prop!” Annie yelped. She was sure if this act kept up, she would not be able to contain the crazed scream and/or laugh currently clawing its way up her throat.

“Great idea. Holly, want to join me?” Chris asked.

“Yes, Daddy,” Holly smiled, putting her small, gloved hand into Chris’s.

“We’ll be right back,” Chris said, leading Holly to the exclusive prop table. Annie hoped they’d have more luck than she had and turned her attention back to Nick. His fingers moved rapidly with large pieces of white wire and the roll of cellophane.

“Whatcha making over here?” Annie asked.

“I thought we could create a snow globe and place our snowman inside,” Nick explained as he worked.

“Oh, wow,” Annie considered. “That actually sounds pretty cool …”

“Thank you,” Nick said, finally pausing a moment to catch her eye before returning to his task. “Glad to see you’re okay after that fall,” he added, and Annie nodded her thanks.

“What if we used some of the fabric to make it look like that sunset?” Annie asked him after a beat, picking through some of the pieces and pulling out the pink and orange hues. Nick’s face brightened, and he gestured for her to keep selecting sunset shades.

By the time Chris and Holly returned carrying a basket containing a red scarf, big black buttons, and a spool of thick black ribbon, Nick and Annie were well into their creative groove, and the foursome worked wordlessly in a shared understanding, pausing only to hear Grant’s trivia questions.

The mysterious dog with the bandana returned to the scene of the crime with the carrot intact and dropped it at Annie’s feet before running back into the night right before they were ready to close off their snow globe, sealing their man inside of it. Annie handed it to Holly, allowing her to complete his face.

“Did that dog look like Dougie to you?” Nick asked once things had settled and Grant was reviewing the entries.

“Dougie!” Annie said, taking her hands to her heart. “The most pathetic and perfect rescue dog in the world.”

“Your grandmother walking the block with Dougie and singing your praises to every neighbor that passed her way is pretty unforgettable. And her bright orange visor—”

“Safety first!” Annie said, imitating her grandmother’s voice every time she put on her walking gear and lecturing anyone within a fifty-foot radius on the importance of staying vigilant and cautious, which as a true-crime girly, always resonated.

Annie and her family had fostered Dougie, a mostly blind and mostly deaf senior long-haired Chihuahua mix after finding him abandoned at a rest stop on the way home from a summer vacation to Maine. He had been malnourished and shivering, but Annie had wrapped him in a beach towel and refused to get in the car unless the dog came too. Once they had arrived back in Simsbury it only took a few visits from her grandparents to decide they couldn’t live without the little guy and had to have him as their own. They had spoiled him endlessly with homemade meals and beautifully crafted knit clothing items to keep him forever warm and fashionably cozy, and her grandmother had tenderly carried him everywhere when they left the house. Whenever they visited Annie’s home, Annie’s grandmother would proudly parade Dougie and his latest apparel around the neighborhood, gushing equally about her sweet pup and beautiful grandchildren to any and every person who crossed her path.

“I can’t believe you remember Dougie,” Annie said softly, turning toward Nick, her body tingling with something she couldn’t quite define. She didn’t have the chance to think much about it before Grant skipped over to admire their work.

Their entry was truckin’ phenomenal. The snow had been easy to mold while never feeling too cold to handle, yet their snowman gave the impression of unflinching stone. The end result was a design that surely defied the laws of nature but was absolutely stunning. Unfortunately, they still lost.

“That contest was rigged!” Annie seethed at Nick through clenched teeth once the winning snowman had been crowned, and the crowd dispersed. Her hands were all fists and fury.

“Oh, my gosh, wasn’t that so much fun?” Bailey asked, skipping over. “You guys did such a great job, this is gorgeous, Nick,” Bailey said, her big eyes fixed on him.

“Congratulations on your big win,” Nick grinned at her. “I love how you made your snowman into a baker. The tray of snow cookies shaped like snowmen was a great touch.”

“Thank you, Nick. My great-grandfather, Wally Jones, is looking down on us with pride, I just know it.” Bailey smiled, and Annie let out a tiny groan she tried to cover with an exaggerated yawn. “We’re going to make snowman cookies at the café tomorrow. But those won’t be made of snow,” Bailey joked.