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“Not as giant as mine yet.”
“I’ll grow.”
“But your brain only grows if you stuff it with information.”
“So listen in school?” She sighs. “How come everything is always listen in school?”
I laugh. “Because it’s the right answer, unless it’s—”
“Read books,” she interrupts. “I know.”
But it’s not sassy, because she loves both school and books.
“How will you know if your spell works?” Henry asks.
“Um, Mr. Henry, it’s not my spell. It’s the Christmas witch’s spell.”
“That’s what I meant.” He looks as serious as usual. “How will you know?”
“It already did,” she says patiently. “See?” She holds her hand out, palm flat, nothing in it.
“Oh.” He presses his lips together, like he’s trying to figure out where to go next. “That’s a very nice . . .”
“Seahorse,” she answers. “A golden one. And it’s alive. Isn’t it pretty?”
“Yes, shiny.”
“I need more witches.” Then she wanders into Henry’s yard.
“You really don’t mind?” I ask as we watch her.
“Do I strike you as someone who says things he doesn’t mean?” His lips twitch, and I smile in return.
“You definitely do not. Fine, then. I’ll just be over in the yard setting up the spotlights.”
He swallows visibly. “The spotlights?”
“Yeah. If I’ve already told the whole town we’ve got the display starting the Friday after Thanksgiving, I better deliver, don’t you think?”
“You’re still going to do that, hmm?” He looks like he’d love to add more, but he doesn’t.
“I am. I mentioned it to Evie and now she can’t wait. Which is why I have to be careful what I say around her. I don’t break my promises, and I accidentally mentioned that part of my payback aloud when I was . . . annoyed.”
He shakes his head. “Right, the doubling down. If you ever want to double down on those brownies or cookies again, feel free.”
I smile and head back to my yard, monitoring Evie as she explores at Henry’s. She already has three large leaves in her hand, and I’ll have to remember to check her pockets for rocks before her jeans go in the hamper.
Sunday goes much the same. When we appear outside, so does Henry, settling onto his porch with a smaller stack of papers. Evie helps until she’s distracted, then she wheedles permission to go see her Dubs. I tell her she can stay for an hour and text Lisa to make sure Evie sticks to it, though I’ll probably have to retrieve her for lunch anyway. I don’t want her taking up their whole day when we’ll be over there for Sunday dinner too.
Sure enough, I have to fetch her home for lunch, but when we head back out for more decorating, Henry reappears as well. This time, Evie drags the empty refrigerator box into his driveway, flattens it, and turns it into a stage where she practices her four lines for her class Thanksgiving pageant.
I like that Henry doesn’t come over to help. He doesn’t know how to do the setup I’m doing, and I hate it when men try to help at things they think they should be good at but aren’t. It happens all the time when a customer asks me a question in the hardware store and some nearby man jumps in with the wrong answer. Henry seems to be fine with the fact that he’s not handy.
He disappears with a goodbye in the late afternoon, and I retreat to the sidewalk to look at our house as a whole. I’ve managed to place everything from the tens of thousands of lights to the cartoony wooden cutouts in a way that tells a story, drawing the viewer’s eye from the starting point of Santa’s journey at the North Pole at “stage left” in the yard, to the end of the story where a young child is delighting in the pile of presents under a painted tree that I draped with lights.
Bill’s handpainted scenery isn’t the kind of thing one can buy in a store. He’s spent time and love on these over the years. Do they suit my taste? No. But eventually, I’ll figure out how to make it my own. For now, doing the Handy’s Hardware windows scratches that artistic itch.
Sunday dinner is always early, around 4:00. Tonight, Lisa serves a delicious roast, and I’m thankful she goes out of her way to spoil us with the things I can’t afford. We firm up plans for Thanksgiving, and it’s time to tell Evie the surprise I’ve been holding onto.
