Page 5 of Meet Me on Mistletoe Lane

Even the Christmas music on the old record player had started skipping.

What the heck was going on?

“You mean you haven’t heard?” Marco said, stepping around a few open boxes on the old wood floor.

“Heard what?” I asked, semi-regretting that I didn’t stick around for a cup of coffee and Eve’s gossip.

“Mr. Paxton died, G.” Marco lowered Leo to the ground before leaning in closer to me, his tight curls bouncing as he did. “He was…killed.”

I gasped, putting my hands in front of my mouth. “Killed? By what? Or who?”

I mean, sure, I had always wished for something scandalous or exciting to happen here that I could write about, but this? Mr. Paxton? I’d never wish for something like that.

And then Marco rubbed the back of his neck and whispered three words that changed my town forever: “A runaway piano.”

Chapter Two

“How could it get any worse? Take a look around you, Ellen! We’re at the threshold of hell!”

—National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation

You know that scene in Home Alone where Kevin’s family is scrambling, panicked, through the airport? Or the one where he uses aftershave and slaps his hands on his cheeks and screams?

Yeah.

Hold my cocoa, Kevin.

Marco’s words quickly launched everyone into a frenzy as if they had forgotten about Mr. Paxton’s death and all suddenly remembered. Sam’s mom dropped a box of ornaments on the stage, and the ones that didn’t break rolled away onto the floor like they were attempting to flee the scene. Aunt Helen reached too far to her left and was airborne, screaming, for a moment before she grabbed the garland on the chandelier and then dropped into Nico’s large, outstretched arms. And my only female cousin, Bianca, tripped over a messy pile of Christmas lights, making her toss an entire stack of used books into the air, which then landed on her splayed-out body.

Thankfully, they were small mass-market editions.

Leo cupped his hands over his ears and immediately sat down before drawing his knees up to his chest.

Sam appeared out of nowhere and crouched down next to him, using his finger to slowly write numbers on his back—a grounding technique we all used to help Leo when his sensory disorder overwhelmed him. “G, where do you keep his headphones?” Sam asked.

“I’ve got a pair under Mom’s table display over there.” I jumped off the last two stairs and sprinted across the floor. Within seconds I gently positioned Leo’s blue noise-canceling headphones over his ears and sat down next to him.

Instinctively, I placed my hand on Leo’s back near Sam’s, our fingers touching as we both did four-count breaths in and out until Leo joined us and took over.

“Well, that was…unexpected,” Sam whispered over Leo’s head.

“Everyone crashing out, or Leo?” I whispered back.

“Um, yes.” He smiled, and his freckles crinkled around his nose. “Want me to take him outside to cool off a bit?” He pulled out his book. “I can introduce him to The Swiss Family Robinson.”

I nodded. “Thank you. I’ll—”

“G, do something!” Nico called out from the other side of the room.

Ugh. Why does it always have to be me?

I took a quick survey of the room, which still looked like a Christmas war zone, as Sam stood and helped Leo up before offering me his hand to do the same. I stretched onto my tiptoes to ruffle Sam’s red floppy hair like I always did, but he surprised me by catching my wrist. His brown eyes twinkled mischievously as he smirked.

My eyes trailed slowly over his face.

His bright, windburned cheeks.

And lips clearly chapped from the cold and sun…