Page 25 of How My Neighbour Stole Christmas
“If you don’t need anything else, I’ll work on taking those Christmas boxes downstairs so we can decorate later,” Taran says…a little brown on her nose.
“You are so helpful, thank you, dear.”
Oh my God.
Yes, Taran is perfect.
She gave Aunt Cindy a sponge bath this morning, helped her into her clothes, and has been at her beck and call, but I was the one who brought home pastries from Warm Your Spirit, the local coffee shop, and made everyone a protein smoothie to go with it. Not sure Taran would have the strength to scrub the crevices if it weren’t for my nourishment.
Not that I’m looking for praise, but I braved the frigid temperatures this morning as I hiked into town.
Aunt Cindy thought it would be best if I showed my face around more, especially since I entered the Kringle competition.
Enteredbeing a loose term…more like forced into slapping down my name.
But I chose to be cooperative this morning as I strutted into town, bundled up so as to prevent wind burn. People were lucky to see my facethrough the gaiter I pulled on and the ski goggles I wore because of how windy it was. Snow in the eyes is not my idea of fun.
When Taran leaves the room, Aunt Cindy focuses her attention back on me. “Do you have that notepad and pen?”
I hold up my phone. “I take all my notes in here.”
Aunt Cindy’s brow creases. “A phone? How can you possibly take proper notes on that device?”
“In the notes app,” I say. “It’s where I make all of my notes when I’m editing or on a Zoom chat. Between my phone and my tablet, I’m set.”
She studies me for a moment, clearly not thrilled with my choice. But after a few awkward seconds of silence and a subtle stare down, Aunt Cindy accepts my note-taking device.
“As you know, I had you entered into the competition, so the town is very much aware of your desire to become the Christmas Kringle.”
“Well,yourdesire for me to become the Christmas Kringle, technically,” I add with a smile. “I’d be very happy staying out of the limelight and watching the events unfold from a healthy distance where no one can be pushed into rivers and children won’t scream because the signature tree in Baubles and Wrappings tips over…”
Aunt Cindy waves her hand in dismissal. “That’s in the past, Storee. We’re looking toward the future now. You’re older, wiser, and you’ve grown into your nose.”
I grip my nose again, taking in the backhanded compliment for the second time since I’ve been here. I make a mental note to talk to Taran about this, because I think we’re missing something here.
“This is your time to shine, but it’s only going to work if you commit to it,” Aunt Cindy continues. “Which means you need to stop being shy about the task in front of you and jump in feet first.” She makes a shaky fist with her hand, pumping it with encouragement.
I don’t think she realizes pep talks aren’t my thing.
“I don’t know, Aunt Cindy. I really came here to help you, not to go around town taking part in a silly Christmas competition.”
“Silly?” She gasps at the insult. “There is nothing silly about wanting to become the Christmas Kringle. It’s the highest honor, Storee. People around town beg and plead to even be welcomed into the competition. And if you were to enter on your own, there’s no way you would get in, but with you representing me…well, we have a surefire way to slip you in. Just five are selected every year, and then there is only one winner. Out of all the people in town, only one person prevails. There’s nothing silly about it—it’s a time-honored tradition that dates back a few years.”
Well, some might not call that time-honored if it only dates back a few years, but I’m not going to be the one who sets her straight. I’ve already tipped the scale of annoying her.
“Sorry,” I say, realizingsillywas a very stupid adjective to use.
“I appreciate the apology.” She clears her throat. “I would like for you to look at the situation with a different perspective.” She struggles to sit up and I attempt to help her, but she waves me off. When she’s finally settled, she looks me in the eyes. “I’ve always felt like we share a kindred spirit.” She glances toward the door and then back at me. “I love your sister dearly, but she’s more…how do I put this…robotic?” I hold back my snort, because she couldn’t have described Taran better.
“She can be a bit tense at times,” I say.
“Yes, tense, stiff, sometimes unwelcoming, but with you, it’s always felt…easy. We share the same interests and we have the same thirst for life, even if that means you tend to find joy in taking care of a ficus rather than a Christmas tree.”
I press my hand to my chest. “Alexander and I have a special bond.”
“Precisely.” Aunt Cindy’s smile grows wide. “Your sister would never bond with a tree.”
“She refuses to claim Alexander as a nephew, and I know it hurts him.”
