Page 16 of How My Neighbour Stole Christmas
“So sunny I had to put on my sunglasses,” I add.
“See, I told you it’s the same here as in California,” Aunt Cindy says.
Yeah, not even close.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s beautiful here. With the Rocky Mountains as the backdrop, it almost feels like Kringletown is inside a movie set, but California doesn’t quite reach the kinds of temperatures that would freeze my nipples off.
“So,” I say, wanting to change the subject and not talk about how much Aunt Cindy wishes I’d give up my bikini for a pair of snow boots, “how is the hip feeling?”
“Okay,” she says. “I can get around at a slow pace, but everyday activities are difficult, which is why I’m glad you’re here. Why I’m glad you’re both here.” She sets down her spoon, pats her face with her napkin, and says, “I actually have something to speak to you two about. It’s quite important.”
Mom warned us about this.
It’s the death talk; I can feel it. Mom said Aunt Cindy was in her feels about her broken hip and how that ultimately leads to death for old people, so I’m mentally prepared to assure Aunt Cindy she’s not dying and I know Taran is as well.
“What do you need to talk to us about?” Taran asks in a calm, almost sweet voice. It’s nice that at least one of us gets to hear it.
“As you know, Kringletown means a lot to me.”
“Yes,” Taran says. “We’re very aware.”
“And for the last few years, I’ve taken part in the Christmas Kringle contest. A contest the town puts on every year where we name who is the most Christmas-y of them all.” Hmm, is this where she says she’s going to keel over before she can enter? “And for the last few years, I’ve come in second, meaning I haven’t earned the title of Christmas Kringle.”
“Second place is better than last,” I say with a lift of my spoon.
Aunt Cindy flashes her weary eyes at me. “Second place is still a loss.” Should have seen that coming, given her competitive spirit. “And lastyear, after I took second again, I decided that I was going to step up my game.”
“Oof, such a shame you broke your hip,” I say. “At least there’s next year.”
“There will be no next year,” Aunt Cindy says with a hint of sass in her voice.
I set my spoon down as well, looking toward Taran, who seems to prefer observing rather than joining the conversation. She does that a lot, stays quiet while I do all the talking. She’s been like that my entire life.
“We love you, Aunt Cindy, and I say this with the utmost respect, but you thinking you’re going to die at any minute from a broken hip has to stop.”
“What are you gabbing on about?” she asks. “I don’t think I’m going to croak this very second.”
“Well, I mean, I wasn’t saying that, but—”
“If you’d let me finish, you’d know that I don’t plan on participating this year…but you are.”
Umm…say that again? I think candy canes were stuffed in my ears because it almost sounded like she saidIwould be the one entering the Christmas Kringle contest.
I glance at Taran and when I’m greeted with a grin that tends to eat…something, if you catch my drift, I realize I heard correctly.
Holding one finger up in question, eyes squinted, I clear my throat. “Funny, I thought I heard you say one of us would be participating.”
“That’s exactly what I said.”
I nod and lean back in my chair. Looking at my sister, I say, “Well, Taran, good luck with that. If anyone can do it for the family, it would be you with your boundless determination and need for perfection.”
Taran slowly shakes her head. “Afraid it can’t be me.”
“Why? You said you were staying.”
“I am, to take care of our dear aunt Cindy.”
“Oh”—I wave her off—“I’ve got that covered.”
