Page 179 of How My Neighbour Stole Christmas
My other hand rests on her stomach while I casually run my fingers through her hair, which she seems to enjoy.
“Did you get your aunt Cindy anything for Christmas?”
“No, actually.” She tugs on her lip. “I probably should. Hmm, maybe I should go to Baubles and Wrappings and find something for her. It’s like a Christmas emporium there.”
“That’s what the Dankworths were going for.”
“They’re odd people, yeah?” Storee asks.
“The fucking weirdest,” I say, and we both laugh.
“And they live across the street, right?”
“Yup,” I confirm. “During the summer, they will march out into the yard like the Von Trapp family in their matching outfits and practice their caroling.”
“Are their outfits made of old curtains?”
“You know, sometimes I wonder.”
She chuckles. “So they just sing out front? Weird.”
“Yup, at oh-six-hundred hours.”
Her mouth drops open. “Six in the morning?”
“Oh yeah. Martha and Mae lose their shit about it. They never say anything because it wouldn’t be very Christmas Kringle-ly of them, but they bitch to the entire neighborhood. Between me, your aunt, Frank, and Thachary, they are ready to start buying T-shirt cannons and blasting them from behind. Their words, not mine.”
Storee snorts. “Oh, that’s not very Christmas Kringle-ly of them at all.”
“Nope. But I don’t blame them. There have been many weekendswhen I wake up to their singing, and it makes me want to crack my skull. I don’t even know why it’s during the summer. They’re homeschooled, so it’s not like they can’t do it any other time of the year. But it’s torturous.”
“How many kids do they have?”
“Seven,” I answer.
“Seven?” Storee’s eyes widen. “My God, what are they doing with seven children?”
I chuckle. “You make it sound like they collected them.”
“Didn’t they? Seven children, my goodness. That’s their own choir. A basketball team with two extra players. A full-on tug-of-war team.”
“Tug-of-war?”
“I don’t know. That’s just a lot of kids. What do they do with all of them?”
“Have them sing Christmas carols in the front yard at six in the morning during the summer.”
“A travesty.”
“Yeah, well, they also put on part of the Christmas festivities at Ornament Park. They sing a few songs, and Bob Krampus loves it. He sits on his Santa throne, drinks hot chocolate, and delights in their melodies. Not to mention, the Dankworths also are judges in the Super Santa Speed Round.”
“They are?” she asks.
“Yup, well, just the parents—not the whole basketball team. Along with Bob himself and Martha and Mae.”
“Is that why you’ve been buddying up to Martha and Mae and feeding their hearts with this romantic farce between us?”
“I would hardly say the way we’ve been fucking has been a romantic farce.” I slip my hand under her shirt, letting my palm press against her warm skin.
