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Tad was setting up his station when a shadow fell over him. He looked up and found Taison admiring his tools.
“Nice toolbox, man. You do this professionally, or you just collect tools?”
Tad laughed. “I’m a carpenter.” He lined up his chisels, largest to smallest. Taison stood watching, half-smiling.
“I heard about your ‘burst pipe’,” he said. He did little air quotes aroundburst pipe.“Aren’t you and Sarah moving kind of fast?”
Tad shot him a sharp look. “It’s not like that.”
“Then, whatisit like?” Taison cleared his throat. “Not to pry, or anything, but Sarah’s my best friend’s little sister—which makes her my little sister by proxy. You know how it is.”
Tad straightened up, set his tools aside. “Don’t get me wrong—I like Sarah a lot. But we’re not moving in together. Not in any permanent way. She’s just putting West and me up for a while. I’ll be moving back home once I’ve patched up my floors.”
“If you say so,” said Taison, sounding unconvinced. He clapped Tad on the shoulder. “Look, you’re both adults. What you get up to is your business. And I’m the last guy who should be handing out romantic advice. Just, you know…” He let Tad go and stepped back. “Be careful. Not every story has a happy ending.”
Taison gave him a long look, maybe expecting a response. But Tad had none to give, so he stayed silent. Eventually, Taison shrugged and stretched. “Anyway, I think we’re starting. I’d better go find my team.”
Tad watched him go, frowning. Sarah came up behind him and bopped him on the head.
“What are you doing?” she asked. “Didn’t you see me waving?”
“I guess I missed that.” Tad relaxed with an effort, let his shoulders go loose. “So, I thought we’d go big on this, do a whole Christmas dinner.”
Sarah’s brows drew together. “What, like a turkey? Snowy mashed potatoes?”
“Well, yeah, those too, but we’ll do the table as well. Like, a kid-sized table and two little chairs. We don’t have enough ice to make it full-size, but that’s probably for the best. We don’t want anyone plunking their butt on our art.”
“That sounds complicated,” said Sarah. “Can we pull it off?”
“Sure, if we—”
A klaxon blast blew, cutting Tad off mid-thought. Val had hopped up on Will’s truck bed and was waving her arms over her head.
“Ice sculpture rules: no throwing sharp objects, no sabotage. No naughty sculptures—there’s kids in the house. No pushing, no shoving, and above all, have fun!” She blew her klaxon again, and the yard erupted with activity. Loud chatter broke out, and Tad raised his voice to be heard over the din.
“I’ll do the big stuff, the table, the chairs. You start on the turkey, the…” He trailed off, laughing. Sarah was just staring, shaking her head.
“You can’t hear me, can you?”
“What?”
“I said—” Tad sketched a turkey midair and pointed at Sarah. She frowned for a moment, then she seemed to get it.
“Let me break up the ice,” said Tad. He wasn’t sure Sarah heard him, but she nodded all the same. Tad sawed the block in half straight down the middle, then split the right half into thirds. Two of these would be chairs, and the other went to Sarah. She stood, sizing it up, head cocked to one side. It occurred to Tad to wonder if she knew what she was doing—but she did this every year, right? Either way, he was in it now, too late to turn back.
Tad bent to his first task, carving out the low table. He’d sketched it out last night, the curve of the legs, chunky but elegant. The folds of lacy tablecloth dangling over the sides, designed to provide support, and an artistic flourish. He’d expected a hard slog, but the buzz of his drill was oddly soothing. The play of sun on ice was hypnotic—a deep, mellow glow lost in its depths; a bright morning sparkle on flying ice chips. He found his groove and sank into it, long strokes of his drill to bring forth wood grain, short bursts to carve falls of lace. When he stopped for a break, he was surprised to see the sun high overhead, and a crowd gathered around him, admiring his work.
“That’s quite something,” said Taison. “Check out that lace.”
“My actual table doesn’t look this good.” Mr. White from the flower shop bent to check out the legs. “You’ve carved the nails in and everything. Where’d you learn to do that?”
“Hammering actual nails.” Tad looked down, embarrassed. His work wasn’t usually the sort that attracted this kind of attention. He cast about for a distraction and spotted Will’s Santa Claus. “Have you checked out Santa yet? Maybe if you ask nice, he’ll grant you a wish.”
Taison laughed. “I think we’re bugging him. Come on, you guys. We can drool some more later.”
“Can’t disturb theartiste.” Vern twirled an imaginary moustache. “Hey, would you mind if I borrowed this?” He plucked a rubber mallet from Tad’s toolbox. Tad frowned.Neither a borrower nor a lender be—his dad must have told him that a million times. So many times when he’d finally readHamlet,he’d heard all of Polonius’s lines in Dad’s voice. As for the mallet, it wasn’t like letting someone borrow a cup of sugar. These were the tools of his trade that he used every day. But Sarah nudged him, and he managed a nod. In this community—and most especially in this family—sharing was expected. Saying no could ruffle feathers all across town.
