Page 88

“And you never wanted to be the guy getting married on Christmas Eve so you could ride with Santa?”

“I will say, that is one tradition I don’t dislike. But you have to live here for that.”

We passed a grocery store that looked like it had teleported from the 1950s.

“Oh, look. That’s you,” I said, pointing to a picture in the window. A laminated paper with a photocopy of what looked like his junior high yearbook photo.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he muttered.

The sign read, SURPRISE, YOU’RE ON CAMERA. SHOPLIFTERS WILL BE PROSECUTED.

I turned to him. “You were a shoplifter?”

“No, I was not a…” He groaned. “I love that I’m getting blamed for things I didn’t even do.” He shook his head at the window. “This is slander. Seriously.”

“Do you think that’s been up there all this time?” I asked. “Or do they have copies in the back that they switch out every few months when the sun fades it, keep it fresh.”

He snorted.

“We never stole from there—or anywhere,” he said, walking again.

“Then why do they hate you so much?”

“We used to sneak out and set off firecrackers in the shop doorways after the main street was closed,” he said. “It set off the shattered glass alarms, and the sheriff and shop owner had to come down and make sure nobody had broken in. It was Nicholas’s idea.”

“Riiight.”

He looked at me, dead serious. “No, honestly. Nick’s late wife—Melanie—her dad was the sheriff. My uncle Wayne. If we got him out of the house for a bit, Nick could circle around and hop into her bedroom window before he came back. I told this story at his wedding—which is why I find it hilarious that I continue to be blamed for this.”

“I think people get set in their way of thinking and don’t change,” I said. “Especially when you’re not here to change it.” I looked at him. “And the chili on the ceiling?”

“Melanie, actually. It’s a long story that had to do with a volcano for the science fair.”

“And you took the blame for that too?”

“As the sheriff’s daughter, she would have gotten into a lot more trouble than I would,” he said. “And if Nicholas was involved, Melanie’s dad wouldn’t let her see him anymore.”

“Awwww, you were the fall guy and a good wingman. And you don’t want to come clean about the chili so you can walk into Holiday Spirits an innocent man?”

“Not if it changes the way people remember her.”

I nodded slowly at the sidewalk in front of me. “That’s admirable. I like that.”

We went quiet as we passed the bar in question to listen to the sound of saxophone drifting out. I loved “Careless Whisper.”

The hot chocolate shop was a few stores down.

“Can we go in?” I asked, turning to him.

“Sure.”

He held the door for me.

The shop was cute enough. Themed for Christmas like the rest of the town. It had a chalkboard menu with the offerings. Only three. A customer walked past us holding a generic paper cup. The girl working the counter was on her phone. She didn’t look up.

“Do you want one?” he asked.

“I think I do.”