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“It’s better than mine, which is managing a small-town hardware store.”
“But do you like it?”
“I kind of love it,” I admit.
“Me too.” Another sip of coffee. I get the sense that he does it as a way to buy time to frame his words to come out exactly like he wants them to. “But you’re right in another way about Scrooge. I went through some of my grandparents’ old photo albums last night, and it was like hanging out with Christmas past. Perhaps I’ve been a humbug about it long enough. After getting Evie’s present, I wonder if it would be appropriate to give her one in return?”
I consider this. I’m insanely protective about Evie and men, doing little-to-no dating since she was born because I’m busy, but mostly because I’m careful about who gets to be in her life. But my instinct says that if Henry gets her something inappropriate, he’ll err on the side of not knowing what a kid her age likes, not something that crosses a line.
“That would be fine,” I say. “Can I ask what you have in mind?”
“Brine shrimp.”
My eyebrows go up. “She likes fish sticks, but I don’t know if she’ll go for shrimp.”
He smiles again, and this may be the first time that I’ve seen a flash of genuine warmth in his expression. For a split second, he reminds me more of a guy I’d hang out with than a stiff neighbor I’m trying to figure out how to negotiate a peace with.
“Brine shrimp are more like a pet, which is another reason I wanted to check with you. They’re called Sea Monkeys, which I know isn’t a seahorse, but I thought Evie might enjoy them. They come in a kit with a small tank—very small—and she can start them as eggs and watch them grow. They don’t require much maintenance.”
It’s so thoughtful on so many levels that I am forced to reassess Hill the Pill completely in this moment. It does sound like something Evie would go bananas for, but the fact that he’s checking with me is an extra level of consideration.
“Who are you?” The words are out of my mouth before I even think about them, and he squints and gives the tiniest head jerk, like the question has come from nowhere. Because it has.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean . . .” I don’t know what I want to explain, so I don’t. “Never mind. Evie will love the brine shrimp. Thank you for thinking of her.” I sip my water to keep any more incredulous words from coming out of my mouth.
“All right.” He pauses, scratches his chin for a moment, then says, “I also wondered if you’d like some help with the decorations.”
I choke and splutter on the water, slapping my hand over my mouth, but not before a bit of the spray lands on his cheek. I watch, mortified, as he calmly wipes it away. This dude has gone from being rattled by the dumbest things to being rattled by nothing, not even a woman accidentally spitting on him.
“Sorry,” I manage when I’m done coughing. “I thought you asked if you could help with the decorations at my house.”
“I did.”
“Then yes.”
Now he looks surprised. “I expected to have to talk you into it.”
“Normally, you would, but if I don’t get help, Bill will insist on doing it, and he barely retired as Clark Griswold. So yes, I’d rather get it done before he shows up and goes to work when he should be taking it easy.”
“Clark Griswold? Is he in Creekville?”
My mouth drops open. “National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation?”
“Haven’t seen it.”
I close my eyes. “That’s painful. That ispainfulto me. We’ll need to fix that soon.”
“All right.” But he doesn’t sound too certain about this.
I take my last bite of croissant and stand up, brushing my crumbs into the wax bag. “Come on, then.”
“For what?”
“For decorating.”
He stands and reaches for our cups. “And you’ll explain about Bill and Lisa?”
