Page 115 of How My Neighbour Stole Christmas
she thought to herself. “He’s so different now; he’s clearly not a jerk.”
“You have to pull, Storee,”I say from over her shoulder, eyeing our sugar lump on the hook attached to the wall. “The air has to get in there in order for it to turn white.”
“I know…that…” she grunts. “Ugh, this is hot and unpleasant.”
“Let me help,” I say as I come up behind her, wrap my arms around her body, and then together we pull. “Like this.”
Immediately I notice how her back fits perfectly against my chest.
How her head comes up to my chin.
And how her hair smells like fresh flowers.
Things I shouldn’t be noticing, but for the life of me, I can’t stop myself.
“Oh my God, I’m not going to be able to do this on my own,” she says as we continue to pull the sugar and wrap it around the hook, watching as the once amber-brown substance turns a bright white. Kind of cool if you ask me.
“Your aunt Cindy did this on her own, which means you have to as well.”
“Maybe there’s something wrong with our sugar,” she says as we continue to pull together, the scent of her hair floating up, distracting me from what we’re doing.
“Nothing is wrong with it,” I say. “Look, it’s turning white. That means we did it right.”
“Are we done?” she asks as she stops. “God, my hands and forearms are on fire. Folding the sugar and kneading in color and flavor tired me out.”
I chuckle. “How the hell are you going to do this by yourself?”
“With some Christmas magic. Do you know if Bob Krampus or anyone around town sells that?”
I laugh. “Not that I know of, but if I hear of anything, I’ll let you know.” I tug the sugar off the hook and carry it to the heating station. “Okay, I think we have to divide this up now. We have our red sugar, but we need a base, then we need to make a blanket of stripes according to the diagram, and then stack it all together, pull, twist, and cut.”
“Oh, just that simple,” she says sarcastically before rubbing the back of her hand over her forehead. “You know, I think it’s sort of irresponsible to ask newbies to make candy canes as part of the Kringle competition. Don’t you think it’s negligent? Boiling sugar, tugging, and pulling? I mean are we making candy canes or are we arousing sugar?”
That makes me let out a wallop of a laugh, prompting Jimmy and Ursula to shoot us annoyed looks.
“I’m never going to tug and pull on sugar the same, thanks for that,” I say.
“Just here to help ruin the process for you.”
Together, we cut the red-and-white sugar into strips, form a striped blanket of sorts, and then drape that over our white base. Then we take a solid piece of red sugar, place that on the bottom, and tug on one end, drawing the sugar into a long strip. We twist the sugar, creating that iconic twirl of white and red, then snip and make a curve at the top, forming an actual candy cane.
Both of us stand there, a little flabbergasted.
“Did we just make that?” Storee asks.
“I think we did,” I say.
“Wow. I’m shocked. It looks like an honest-to-goodness candy cane. Like something Bob Krampus would stick in a stocking.”
“When referring to his Christmas duties, he prefers you call him Santa.”
“Oops.” Storee’s cheeks turn pink. “That looks like somethingSantawould stick in a stocking.”
“It does,” I say as I drape my arm over her shoulders. She snuggles into my chest, a vast difference from her prior reluctance. “I’m proud of us.”
“Me too.” She glances up at me and offers me that sweet smile of hers. “Thanks for rescuing me and bringing me here.”
“Like I said, I want to win because I know I’m better, not because you were stuck in your car.”
