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Mom must’ve said something because, all at once, my family came filing back into the house, bringing the cold air with them. Harris was whining about wanting to pet the reindeer.

“Live reindeer,” Marcus said when he saw me leaning against the railing of the bottom stair.

“They’re kind of cool,” I said.

“I know,” he agreed. “Harris is going to set up a tent out there, I think.” He grabbed a beanie off a hook by the door.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Mr. Lenny is shoveling snow from his walk. I need to go take over.”

I straightened up. “Can I? It’s my turn.”

“You want to?”

“I need to.” I needed to do something nice for someone considering how I was feeling.

Marcus threw his beanie at me. “Have fun.”

I pulled it on along with my boots, coat, and gloves, and left the house.

“Hello!” I called, once I was within speaking distance.

“Hello, Jasmine,” Mr. Lenny said. “Did you see the reindeer? They did it despite the rules.”

I nodded. “You don’t like the reindeer?”

“I like rules,” he said.

I pointed to his shovel. “Can I cut in?”

“You want to shovel my snow?”

“You know I do.”

He smiled and handed over his shovel. Right away, I realized that I was dealing with ice instead of powder.

“Do you have salt?” I asked before he reached his front door.

He pointed toward the side gate. “In my shed. I’ll grab it.”

“I got it,” I said, dropping the shovel in the snow and heading for the gate.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I’ll go.”

“Already on my way,” I teased, opening the latch and jogging into his backyard. The faster I got the salt, the less he’d have to walk.

I stepped inside his shed and scanned the crowded shelves, looking for the salt.

Then my eyes landed on something else in the back corner of the shed, and my stomach dropped.

“I can explain,” Mr. Lenny said.

“Our elf?” I asked in a quiet voice. It was missing an arm and a leg and was covered in black spots and spiderwebs, but I recognized it instantly. Not only from my memory, I realized, but from photos I’d seen of the early iterations of our yard setup.

“My kids won’t come home for Christmas,” Mr. Lenny said in a gravelly voice. “There’s too much traffic and congestion in this town. It’s too difficult for them. And I’m getting too old to travel.”

“You’re suing the city,” I said, realization finally coming to me. “You want to take this—the lights and everything—away? Why?”