Page 45 of Merry Christmas, You Filthy Animal
Narrator: Ahem . . . please don’t critique the story.
“Right, sorry.”
Anyhoo, he did tell me about this book he’s been reading,Nobody’s Angel. I tuned him out when he mentioned the book, just did the whole fake-smile-and-nod-my-head thing. Then I chose to sit as far away from him as possible at the table. He cornered Storee and Taran’s aunt Cindy, who lives next door, and bless her, because she listened to the entire plot and even asked questions.
She has better manners than I do, that’s for sure.
“Storee, dinner was delicious, and thank you for hosting. I have some things I need to speak to you about, and since I don’t trust my brothers not to run their mouths, I’d really like to keep this to the inner circle of this table.”
Cole leans in. “Dude, you’re not going to be dramatic about this, are you?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I’m not. This is serious.” I lean back in my chair and let out a breath. “Dwight Yokel is on a warpath to put Evergreen Farm out of business, and so far, I can’t see how he could fail.”
“What are you talking about?” Aunt Cindy asks. “Evergreen Farm has been around forever. There’s no way it will go out of business, not to mention Dwight Yokel has no business in being... well... in business.”
“I share your sentiment, Aunt Cindy,” I say. “But here are the facts. The empty lot next to Evergreen Farm, it belongs to him. It’s just outside the town limits, meaning he can do whatever he wants with the land, even a competing Christmas farm. He’s hired his niece to take over the responsibilities, and she’s done enough snooping around my farm to have a generalunderstanding of how we work. Not to mention they’re not targeting townies, who’d support Evergreen. They’re targeting visitors. And since their property is before ours on the way to Kringle, there’s a great chance they can succeed.”
“Feels like a realYou’ve Got Mailsituation,” Guy says from the other end of the table.
“That’s what I said,” I say, pointing to my chest. Okay, maybe this guy isn’t so bad.
“Atlas, you can’t possibly think within a few weeks, they’ll put your farm out of business,” Storee says in a calm voice.
“Honestly, I think they would do anything they can to make it happen. Even by planting people to say negative things to customers. Just today, this lady complained about the temperature of the hot cocoa and made a big deal about it. People crowded around as she showed off her tongue.”
“Hey, she came into the doctor’s office today complaining about her tongue,” Taran says.
“Seriously?” I ask.
Taran nods. “She asked if she could file a lawsuit, but we told her it wasn’t worth her time because the words on the cup wereCaution: hot.”
“Jesus fuck,” I whisper as I push my hand through my hair. “See, this is what I’m talking about. I swear, my parents leave for a month, and it feels like everything’s falling apart. They’ll do anything to take me down, so I need an action plan. And I think I have one.”
“Is it having a civil conversation with Dwight and the girl?—”
“Betty,” I interrupt Cole. “Her name is Betty.”
“Wait, is that the new girl that I met the other day at the farm?” Storee asks. “She was really nice. You can’t possibly be talking about her.”
“Blond hair, bright blue eyes?” I ask.
“Yeah, that’s her,” Storee says, looking defeated.
“Uh, I was saying,” Cole continues. “Have you thought about having a civil conversation with Betty and Dwight? Maybe tell them that whatever beef there is between all of you, maybe you could work it out?”
“Ha!” I guffaw and then cross my arms at my chest. “You don’t think I thought about that? When Dwight attacked me in the parking lot?—”
“Attacked you?” Cole raises his brow. “You’re, like, thirty pounds heavier than he is. There is no way he attacked you.”
“You didn’t let me finish,” I say. “When he attacked me with his poking finger and words?—”
Cole rolls his eyes, but I continue.
“—there was no reasoning with him. And Betty, oh boy, she’s even more stubborn. Trust me, if this was talkable, I’d sit down, buy them a meal, and hash it out. But unfortunately, that is not an option for me. Therefore, we have to form a plan.”
“I like plans,” Aunt Cindy says, looking interested in the prospect of being involved.
“Feels like we’re about to be part of a mystery novel or something,” Guy says, adjusting his glasses on his nose.
