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I latched onto his shoulder, scowled at the cars still creeping along the road until they stopped to let us cross, and dragged my captive into the bakery. Camille had a customer in front of her and Ava looked to have a handle on the customers filling the assorted tables, so I avoided their eyes and pulled the boy into the back until we stood in front of the fancy espresso machine.
He waited beside me quietly, eyes wide, as I steamed two cups of milk, mixed in the cocoa, added a dash of mint, and topped the cups off with a healthy dollop of whip cream. Because I was feeling extra fancy, I sprinkled the top with cocoa before turning to pass one of the mugs over to my companion.
He wrapped both hands around the mug, his mouth gaping as though I’d handed him the holy grail, and a grin split my lips. “We gotta wait for the milk to cool enough so it doesn’t burn our tongue.”
He nodded seriously. I handed him a straw. “Wait here a minute.”
In the back of the bakery, I used a few paper towels to dry his hat out as best as could be done, then tucked it into a bag. With a good laundering, the thing would probably be just fine. I returned to the counter where I’d left the boy. He held a covered to-go cup now instead of a ceramic mug in one hand and a giant ornament sugar cookie iced in Renegade colors. Crumbs decorated his mouth and the worry had disappeared from his face.
Just past him, Camille packed up an order, but slanted me a wink and a nod to indicate my own hot chocolate waiting in a to-go cup on the counter. When she finished with her customer, she turned to face me and the boy. “What are you supposed to be doing, young man?”
He straightened, eyes blinking fast. “I’m helping Hoss.”
“Until you got distracted and lost your hat,” I said. Camille glared at me and I shook my head at her. No idea why. Not like the boy could have been helping Hoss while fist-bumping with a driver. Come on.
“Yeah, until then.” His slim shoulders sagged again, and he stared at the uneaten half of his cookie with a fat lower lip. “Hoss might get annoyed at me being gone so long. He says he counts on me to help him out.”
I snorted, drawing his eyes. He watched me like he expected me to say something, but I figured anything I said about his hulk of a friend Hoss wouldn’t be fit for a child’s ears. Camille sent me another condemning frown, but I knew better than to say anything. What was the old saying? If you didn’t have something good to say, say nothing at all?
“I know what to do.” Camille ducked beneath the display counter and re-emerged with the peanut butter snowball tray. An assortment of the bite-sized treats I’d spent hours making then decorating with powdered sugar and colorful sprinkles or drizzled chocolate soon moved from the display tray into one of the bakery boxes. Then she poured a large coffee into a to-go cup. Last, she bundled up sugar and creamer packets and stirrers, and assembled everything in a to-go carrier, before passing the lot over to me.
“What am I doing with all this?”
“Bribery,” Camille answered with another wink down at the boy. “So Hoss doesn’t get annoyed at. . . “ She looked pointedly at my cookie-eating companion.
“Timmy.”
Camille’s smile widened. “Of course,” she said. “So Hoss is kind to poor little Timmy when you take him back. Go on now. Ava and I can hold down the fort here now that the morning rush is over.”
Somehow, a few moments later, I stood on the edge of the walkway in front of Sugar Squared, one hand clutching the carrier, a bag containing the boy’s soggy hat dangling from the other. Beside me, Timmy chomped the remains of his Renegade ornament cookie. I sighed. “Well, where is he?”
While we’d been inside, the preparations for today’s event had progressed. There was now a band setting up on a stage, music blaring from loud speakers on either side. Someone did a mic check between the chorus and the stanza of “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas”, the screech and feedback tightening the muscles across my back. A row of classic cars, including the curmudgeonly Mr. Hillbanger’s, filled the street in front of the bakery.
The picnic tables where Hoss and his crew usually set up were covered in holiday decorations with no sign of the big man. The old relic of a black car where I’d seen him earlier was now bookended with fully decorated Christmas trees and what looked like a red carpet leading to the wide opening side door.
Timmy’s whisper thrummed with hushed excitement. “Wow.”
I nodded. Yeah, wow. Hoss had said last month they were going all out for this event, but the amount of hustle and fuss still took me back. “You see him?”
“He was helping set up the Santa car, but he’s not over there anymore.”
“Santa car?”
Timmy nodded to the old black car. “Santa’s gonna sit in that car so we can get our pictures taken with him. Hoss was getting worried cuz Santa’s fill-in hadn’t showed up.”
I nodded again, as though that made perfect sense. ‘Cause who wouldn’t want to climb into the back of some relic of a by-gone era for a picture with Santa? “Santa’s fill-in?”
“Yeah, ‘cause the real Santa is busy. He sends fill-ins.”
I wondered if this was a Hoss explanation or mom-approved. “How about we circle the square? Bound to run into Hoss and you can get your new assignment, right?”
“Okay.”
We wound our way around parked cars and their owners. Timmy and I crossed to the grassy area and began our circuit. The street in front of the bakery was the only one with moving vehicles. The other three roads were packed with parked cars, classics, the shiny new ones I probably should have known the make or model of, but which just looked shiny and fast.
We passed a million people, but not a one was the elusive Hoss. We passed men wearing Santa hats and women in reindeer headbands and even dogs wearing elf feet. I couldn’t believe how many people were decorating the area around their cars, as well as their cars, with holiday trappings. I had no idea that was a thing. Elaborate trees and garlands, lush artificial winter flower bouquets. One guy even had a herd of blow-up reindeer stretching out in front of his car as though getting ready to take off into the night.
Finally, we noticed a small crowd at the corner before the caboose lot. Mostly men, more broad shoulders than I’d ever seen in one place, and then Timmy hollered and shuffled faster toward the group.
