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“Be annoyed all you want, but you’ve always seemed so content with being single and unattached. Did something happen to cause this change of heart? Ooh! It’s the magic in the air around Christmas, isn’t it? It’s finally working on you.”
Jack shuddered and shook his head. “No. It’s not the magic of Christmas.” He paused, looking over at his niece. Or rather, looking at her pudgy little hand, since that was the only part of her that was visible as she slyly reached onto the counter to take another cookie. “She’s a girl after my own heart.”
Holly smirked down at Noelle and shook her head. “Mine too. But that’s why I make them so small. That way, I don’t have to cut her off so soon.” She leaned down and kissed the top of her daughter’s head and spoke low in her ear. “No more for today after that one, okay, Noelley Bean?”
Noelle scowled, then she nodded and pranced away with her cookie.
Holly turned back to Jack with a shake of her head. “Off to play now I bet.”
“Or to ask Grandma to get her a cookie.”
“Or that.” Holly went back to piping the Christmas tree cookie, focusing on the task as she picked up our conversation. “Anyway, I’m happy for you. I hope the house hunting goes well, though you don’t have to rush it. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want. Mama P has your room marked as unavailable for the next year, just in case.”
Jack balked. “That’s nice of her, but I’m not planning on mooching off you guys for that long. In fact, I have an appointment with the realtor tomorrow.”
“Carolyn? Yay! She’s amazing. I’ll call her and tell her all about you and what you want so she knows what kind of houses to show you.”
“Uh, I already did that. She said she has a handful of options that would be perfect.”
Holly scoffed. “Well, I’ll do it anyway. You were probably way too vague, but I know you better than anyone, so I’ll be able to clarify things for her.”
“Do you? Because you didn’t know I planned to settle down and have a couple of kids like you and Saint Nick,” Jack quipped.
“Fair. But if you’re serious about that, it wouldn’t make sense to buy one of the bachelor-pad-style condos you probably told her you were looking for.”
Jack pursed his lips.
“Not that there are many in this town,” Holly went on, “but if she knew kids were on your radar, she’d show you houses that would make more sense for the long term.”
She had him there, so he nodded and bowed his head. “Fine, thank you. I can’t argue with your logic, but don’t get carried away.”
Holly put on her most innocent face. “Me? Carried away? Whyever would you think that?”
“Because I know you too. Obviously,” he shot back. “Oh, but can you please ask her not to show me any houses in the neighborhoods where it’s basically mandatory to put up lights and wreaths and inflatable snowmen in the front yard?”
“No.”
“No?”
She shrugged. “No.”
“And… why not?”
“Because, Jack Frost, there are no neighborhoods in Snow Hill where decorating for Christmas isn’t mandatory.”
CHAPTER2
Robin
Robin McBride stareddown at her daughter in the world’s longest standoff over something as trivial as the positioning of snowmen figurines. If Abby didn’t give in soon, they’d be late for school, and as a single mom who was also the assistant to Snow Hill’s mayor, the last thing she needed was a reputation for being unable to get her daughter to school on time.
“Abby, please. I’m begging you. Fiddle with the snowmen when you get home from school. It doesn’t have to be perfect right now.”
Abby crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her chin. “Of course it has to be perfect. What’s the point of setting up a Christmas display if you’re not going to make sure it’s beautiful and amazing and the best ever?”
“It will be. Every year your collection gets better and better. But no one is going to break into our house to admire it while you’re at school, so you can arrange them exactly how you want them when you get home.” Robin started to reach for her coat, then held up a finger. “Afteryou do your homework.”
Abby’s scowl deepened with the addition of the last part, and Robin chuckled, which only made it worse.
