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Sarah snorted. “Seriously?”
“Hell, no. If we don’t win, I’ll throw a kid-sized tantrum.”
“But there can be only one winner, so second place goes to Will, with his jolly St. Nick. And first place is—”
Sarah was screaming, jumping up and down. Tad grabbed her hands and bounced around with her. He felt ridiculous at first, but then he spotted Taison smashing his Scrooge. Cassie and Amy were throwing snowballs, and Will had flopped down next to Santa, head in his hands. Tad let out a whoop. It felt good to celebrate, to dance and shout, not caring how he looked.
Sarah leaned up to kiss him. “You glad you came?”
“You know what? I am.” He kissed her back, spun her, and laughed up at the sky.
8
“Iwas thinking, for this one, everyone’ll be expecting—” Sarah broke off abruptly, scowling at Amy. “Are youeatingour roof tiles?”
“Of course. They’re delicious.” Amy took another bite of gingerbread and licked her lips.
West rose on tiptoe. “Can I have one too?”
“Nobody can have one. They’re not food, they’re walls. They’re struts and roof tiles and—and flying buttresses.” Tad rescued the bitten piece from Amy and sliced off the end. “Go on, help your sister. Quit snacking on our tiles.”
Amy stuck out her tongue at him, but she slid down the table to join Cassie at their station. Sarah watched her a moment, to make sure she stayed put, then leaned in to share the brainwave that’d struck her in the night.
“As I was saying, everyone’ll expect us to do something flashy. Like a castle or a greenhouse, something tough to build. But I was thinking, instead, we could go for their heartstrings. We could do the ranch.”
“You mean the whole ranch?” West’s eyes had gone round. “The houses and stables, and the old barn?”
“That might be a bit much,” said Tad, but West was bouncing on the balls of his feet.
“We could do it,” he said. “Like we did the pioneer town for school. We could do a tinfoil pond, cotton snowbanks. A donut for the tire swing.”
“A donut, that’s good. And licorice for those old steps going down the hill.” Tad was nodding now, getting into the spirit. “The trees’ll be tough, but green gumdrops might work. We’ll pile them in cones, like evergreens.”
Sarah opened her mouth to object—she’d meant just the big house, and maybe Will’s truck. But West’s idea was better—just the right mix of ambition and sweetness, a big sprawling project everyone would love. Much like the ranch itself.
“We should do it,” she said. “I’ll start on the stable, as that’s my domain. Tad can do the big house, and West—”
“I’ll do the pond.” He reached for the tinfoil and tore off a big piece.
The three of them set to work, slicing and gluing and squirting icing. Aunt Nancy’s Christmas mix blasted from the speakers,Santa BabyandJingle BellsandRun Rudolph Run.The sweet smell of gingerbread hung in the air. Sarah’s stable collapsed and Tad set it right. West spilled icing on his tinfoil pond and Sarah spread it thin. It gleamed like fresh ice, and West clapped his hands. Tad attacked the big house like a man on a mission, putting up gables and columns, even the porch swing.
“Ten minutes,” called Mom, and Sarah looked up, surprised.
“Ten minutes? How’s thatpossible?We’re just getting started.”
“Doesn’t look that way to me,” said Aunt Nancy, leaning in for a look. A crowd had formed around their station. When had that happened?
“You need a licorice whip,” said Uncle Vern. “To hang up your tire swing.”
West reached for one and secured it, smiling shyly.
“My grandpa hung that tire swing,” said Will. “And Gramma laid those jellybeans—I mean, that stone path.”
“Is that Apple? Itis.” Mom reached for a tiny horse, speckled with icing. “You even got her pink nose…aw, that’s so cute.”
“Is that you with the sled?” Cassie pointed at a gingerbread man pulling a pretzel sled. “And look, it’s West’s snow fort, with its little towers.”
“And there’s Tad’s tools,” said Will. “See, his little sawhorse out behind Sarah’s.”
