Page 48 of How My Neighbour Stole Christmas
Frank and Thachary love a good shimmy.
They sometimes hold dance classes in their bar before they open. I’ve walked by before and have seen a lot of shimmying. Cindy must have let Storee know.
This might be harder than I thought, especially with the nearly rotting corpse over there in the wheelchair.
The room falls silent, the only noise the music playing overhead. We watch as Frank and Thachary both take a sip and start marking away on their judging cards. I try to catch any sort of tell that they might like it…or, preferably, hate it.
Like a snarl to the lip.
A hiccup from a swallow.
Possibly some singeing of the tongue from too many spices.
But I see nothing.
“Presentation is beautiful,” Frank says. “Thank you, Storee.”
“Of course.” She grabs her drinks and then walks back to her spot.
We’re next.
The judges cleanse their palates with sips of water as Max leans in close again. “Unbutton your Henley; show some chest hair.”
“What? No.”
“Dude, you have to do something—they’re using Aunt Cindy for sympathy. Be Snow Daddy.”
“I’m not going to—”
“Cole Black, we’re ready for you,” Frank says.
“Unbutton,” Max whispers, but I shake him off and bring our drinks forward.
Two brown mugs have reindeer antlers for handles, and I’ve decorated the tray with fresh pine needles from the farm, some dark chocolate bars, and a few hazelnuts. I’m really attempting to add to the ambiance.
I set the tray in front of them and watch them examine it for a secondbefore I say, “I have for you today my rendition of a dark chocolate hazelnut eggnog drink.”
There’s some chatter behind me, a smallooohwith a matchingahhh.
“With some fresh-cut pine from Evergreen Farm, two handmade mugs from Baubles and Wrappings, and local dark chocolate from Chadwick’s, I wanted to incorporate the town into this drink as much as I could.”
I see the appreciation on their faces as they take their first sips, and I’ll be honest, I’m slightly nervous. I mean, I want to win. I want to beat Storee, but I didn’t think that I was going to be this anxious going into the competition.
After a few deathly silent seconds and some more sips, they jot away on their cards and then smile up at me.
“Wonderful. Thank you, Cole.”
“You’re welcome,” I say as I reach for the tray.
Behind me, I hear Max cough into his hand while he says, “Shimmy.” But I ignore him as I rejoin the crowd. We’re going to let the drink speak for itself. We’re not going to use cringeworthy tricks like making a lady with a broken hip look like she’s on her deathbed.
No, we’re going to win this on merit.
We’re going to win this with dignity.
We’re going to win this the right way.
Bob Krampus steps up to the table now, in his complete Santa costume. “Boys, have we reached a verdict?”
