Page 1 of Home for Christmas in July

CHAPTER 1

Noelle

Monday

Joshua Morgenthal brandishes the glazed cinnamon roll at me as if it were a knife. The menace in his eyes is real, but the effect is undercut by the thin layer of frosting coating his whiskered chin. I lock eyes with him and inhale deeply, keeping my right palm outstretched.

“Mr. Morgenthal, hand over the pastry.” I use my sternest librarian voice.

He shakes his head violently, sending a spray of crumbs spewing onto the colorful carpet.

“You’ve already had one Christmas roll,” I point out. “And I specifically heard your husband tell you not to have any more sweets before he left.”

I could hardly have missed it. Ryan’s clear voice cut through the hushed library like a bell when he shouted the warning over his shoulder from the memoir and biography section on his way to the exit. The Mistletoe Mountain Public Library is usually a hive of activity—we’re not one of those quiet libraries with the ‘no talking’ signs. But since the majority of the patrons this morning have their mouths stuffed with sweet rolls, we could be mistaken for one. I’ll have piles of sticky, frosting-covered books to wipe down before closing.

I chide myself for the silent complaint. I shouldn’t be so grouchy—or Grinchy. It is Christmas, after all. Well, Christmas in July, to be completely accurate. But in this town, there’s no functional difference.

Mr. Morgenthal’s gaze darts away from mine. He scans the lobby wildly as if searching for an escape route. At least he isn’t going to bother denying the truth. Good call, what with the evidence all over his chin and the front of his shirt, not to mention the floor. When his bright brown eyes return to my face, he gives me a soulful look.

“Ah, come on, Noelle. Can’t you look the other way? Let an old man have some sweetness in his drab, bitter life, why don’t you?” He sticks out his glazed lip in a pout.

In point of fact, Iwaslooking the other way when he grabbed the pastry. He waited until Roxie, the delivery driver, dropped off a big box of new mystery releases. Then he pounced. While I was focused on the latest book in the Maisy Farley mystery series, he slyly helped himself to another Christmas roll.

“Nice try. The roll. Now.” I fist my left hand on my hip for emphasis.

We stare at each other. I really don’t want to have to wrest the treat from his hand by force, but we both know I will if I have to. The seconds tick by. I ignore an itch on my nose. Finally, our dramatic standoff ends when he snorts in disgust and slaps the thing into my palm, sticky side down.

“Thank you,” I say, adding lots of sugar to my voice to make up for depriving him of the real thing.

I get a grunt in return.

As I wrap the roll in a festive red napkin, then use a green one to work on my gunked-up hand, I give him a bemused look. “Are you trying to have a hyperglycemic episode?”

“No.” He glares at me.

The whole town knows Mr. Morgenthal has diabetes. The whole town knows just about everything about everyone. Sweet Merry’s, the bakery food truck, even has a sugar-free confection named for him.

“Why don’t you have Ryan take you for a Josh’s Jelly Roll after lunch?” I suggest.

He fake gags. “No way. Merry’s making chocolate sponge this week.”

“For the Jule-logs?”

He nods and wrinkles his nose. “I don’t like the chocolate ones so much.”

“You have my sympathies. But I still don’t want you having a medical event in my library.”

“Oh, it’s your library, is it? And here I am laboring under the impression that this is apubliclibrary, paid for by my tax dollars. Anyway, I’m just trying to get into character.”

“Into character for what?” I search my memory. I don’t think he’s in the cast of Mountainside Players’ production ofIt’s A Wonderful Life,but to be honest, I haven’t been paying much attention. I’m not feeling very Christmassy this year.

“Didn’t you hear? I’m playing Santa at the festival next weekend.”

I give him a bewildered look. “You’re July Santa?”

He chuckles. “Tell me about it. Who ever heard of a Jewish Santa? Ryan thinks I should say ‘oy, oy, oy’ instead of ‘ho, ho, ho.’”

I shake my head, still confused. “No, you’ll make a fabulous Santa. But why isn’t Nick Jolly doing it? Nick always plays Santa at the Christmas in July festival. It’s a tradition. He’s Santa, and ….”

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