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“What does he mean, he can’t move?” I asked as Leo and I exchanged worried looks.

“I think we made the frosting wrong, because every time Dad lets go of something, it falls.” James’s breathing quickened like he was pacing. “He’s been stuck with his arms up, holding some pieces together on the roof for ages—”

“I can’t feel my arms!” Mr. Bailey shouted. “My arms are asleep! It’s these gumdrops. I told you we should’ve used the mints, James!”

Leo chuckled, putting a gloved hand over his mouth to cover it.

“We’ll be right over,” I said before I hung up and joined Leo’s giggles.

My brother and I quickly piled some supplies into our bike baskets and pedaled over to the B&B.

When we got there, Aunt Sofia was nervously pacing on her front porch with her hands around a mug of something steaming hot. “Oh, thank God you’re here,” she said as we hurried up the walk.

I really do need that printed on a shirt.

“They’re making an absolute mess of my kitchen.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “It’s like the time Francis came home from college all over again.”

That was a story I knew to be true. It involved all of my male cousins, Aunt Sofia’s famed punch bowl, a large bottle of cognac, and an eggnog recipe gone wrong.

Or as Nico still put it: “Oh so right.”

“We’ll take care of it,” I said as Leo and I rushed by her and into the B&B.

James and Mr. Bailey sighed with relief as we pushed open the door to the kitchen.

“Holy cow!” Leo set his stuff down on the breakfast nook table. “This looks like a war zone!”

And he wasn’t wrong.

The gingerbread house had spires sticking out of it with lumps of frosting dripping down its sides. Red Hots speckled the floor, and powdered sugar covered almost every surface, including James’s and Mr. Bailey’s hair. And that was when I noticed their Christmas aprons. Mr. Bailey had on my Uncle Gabriel’s, which had Let’s Get Lit spelled out in Christmas lights, and James wore my Aunt Sofia’s Santa’s Favorite Ho.

I pinched my lips together and tried to hold back a laugh but failed, eventually doubling over snorting and crying.

“When you are quite done, could someone please give me a hand, since I can no longer feel mine?” Mr. Bailey asked, his face red. “I can’t believe I skipped a Zoom call for this…”

“Honestly, sir, you should just drop your hands and let those gumdrops fall,” Leo said, propping his elbows on the island in the middle of the kitchen, where most of the mess was. “You’re going to have to start over anyway.”

“Oh, thank God.” Mr. Bailey let his arms go and fell back against the cabinets behind him. “There was no way I was going to allow my name on that.”

“Come on, Dad,” James said, crossing the kitchen. “It’s not that bad.”

The four of us exchanged glances, there was a pause, and then we all burst into fresh laughter.

I wiped my eyes a moment later. “Okay, so first, we need to remix your icing so it’s less runny.”

“How do we do that?” Mr. Bailey, asked straightening his apron.

“More powdered sugar,” Leo said matter-of-factly.

“Oh, for the love of God, please, no!” Aunt Sofia yelled from the foyer.

Leo giggled and then picked up the bag that had fallen over and stepped carefully around the candy-covered floor to the stand mixer.

I grabbed two clean spatulas from my bag, having assumed theirs were either broken or caked with something impossible to clean, and handed one to each of them. “You two carefully scrape off that frosting and then sort your candy by weight. You don’t want to place too much heavy stuff on top.”

“But what about the spires?” James asked.

I pointed to the plastic tub behind me. “We can make those with our leftover Rice Krispies.”