Page 174 of How My Neighbour Stole Christmas
And when the song ends, Atlas finishing on a soft strum, Cole looks up and wipes his eye as Atlas pulls him into a hug and they share a moment up on the stage, the café crowd cheering for the both of them.
“That was…beautiful,” Aunt Cindy says as she wipes her eyes. “Just beautiful.”
Thank God she’s crying, because that gives me the right to do the same.
I wipe at my eyes as they walk offstage, and when Cole meets my gaze, I can see the water in his eyes—the need for comfort—but I fear if I run up and hug him, it will send Taran into a tailspin, so I keep my distance as they walk up to us. Though Aunt Cindy grabs him by the hand.
“That was so touching, Cole.”
He smiles down at Aunt Cindy. “Thank you.” He sniffs and then walks off to the side with Atlas where they hug each other one more time. Dammit, I want to be the person who’s hugging him. Who’s celebrating him. Who’s sharing this moment with him. Mourning with him.
“Damn, that was good,” Taran says and then looks me in the eyes. “Are you crying?”
“Just a little,” I say and wipe at my eyes. “We knew his parents and him back then. It just…I don’t know, it made me sad for him.”
“Don’t feel sad for him. He’s going to take first.”
“You think?”
Taran nods. “Yes, I do. We’ll be lucky if we get second.”
“Lucky?” I ask. “I thought we would for sure get second at least. This is a caroling competition. Jimmy didn’t even sing.”
“Playing an instrument is allowed. I saw women throw their napkins up on the stage when he was playing. Remember, the people vote, and he showed chest hair, so he’ll take second. Now I just need to do the calculations.”
Taran disappears while Bob Krampus goes up on the stage, taking the mic in one hand.
“What a wonderful set of performances, some of the best I’ve seen since being the emcee of the Kringle competition. I hope you’ve been taking notes, because now it’s time to enter your vote into the system. Please pull out your phones and scan the QR code on the table to place your vote. Please note you’re accepting all terms and conditions whenvoting and will need a valid email address that will be shared with Kringletown tourism when entered.”
I chuckle because, man, do they have it down with this whole Kringle competition and maximizing every facet of it to grow the town.
“We’ll give you about a minute to enter your votes. Meanwhile, can we please get our Kringle-ees up on the stage?”
I feel a hand grab mine, and just as I look up, Cole pulls me toward the stage so we’re the first ones on. A bunch of hooting and hollering is coming from the back where Tanya, Martha, and Mae are sitting. Bob Krampus gives us a gentle nod, and Cole wraps his arm around my shoulders as we stand side by side, Jimmy, Ursula, and Beatrice falling in behind.
I whisper, “Your performance was beautiful, Cole.”
“Thank you,” he whispers back just as Bob Krampus clears his throat.
“Okay, I believe the results are in. Karen, could you please bring them up to me?”
Karen, in her hairnet and apron, walks up onto the stage and hands Bob a piece of paper. I don’t know what system they used to tally the votes, but I’m impressed with how fast it worked.
Bob scans over the results like he always does and then looks out to the crowd. “Well, what a close competition, but we have a clear winner. Starting with fifth place, we have Ursula Kronk with ‘The Twelve Days of Christmas.’” The crowd claps, and Ursula takes a bow with her puppet.
I’m not surprised about her last-place position. The arm falling off was a real nightmare. Pair that with the look on her face as she tried to keep her mouth as still as possible…and, well, it was a fail all around.
“Coming in fourth, we have Dr. Beatrice Pedigree with her interpretation of ‘Little Drummer Boy.’”
Cole squeezes my shoulder, and I know he’s happy for me, given how worried I was.
“And our third-place winner…” Bob looks surprised. “Was not expecting this, but Storee Taylor with ‘Jingle Bell Rock.’”
Dammit.
I thought I was a guaranteed second after the way the crowd reacted, but it seems like I was overlooked for Jimmy Short’s guitar.
“Good job,” Cole whispers before Bob continues.
