Page 36 of Home for Christmas in July

“Hey, Noelle. Isn’t it great that Uncle Nick’s gonna play Santa for the festival after all?” Sage asks.

“Absolutely!” I chirp.

Thyme cocks her head to study me. “Are you wearing Merry’s hoodie?”

“What?” I’m suddenly hyperaware of my borrowed clothes.

“Yeah, that’s definitely Merry’s. My mom gave it to her for her birthday last year.”

Of course. Just my luck. My mind races. How do I explain that I spent the night at the cabin with their uncle without making it sound like I spent the night at the cabinwiththeir uncle?

Flustered, I blurt, “Your uncle Nick’s helping me with the scavenger hunt. We went looking for a clue this morning. A hike was involved, so I needed to borrow appropriate clothes.”

In a serious stroke of luck, the mention of the scavenger hunt distracts them from my attire. They both lean over the desk.

“Another clue? Catch us up.”

Happy to oblige, I walk them through finding the clue in the coffee shop, which led me to the lake and Nick. Then I explain how we found the clue in the letterbox up by the waterfall (with a small conversational detour to give them a broad-strokes description of letterboxing). Along the way, they pepper me with questions, talking over each other with rapid-fire speech.

I’m halfway through telling them about the O. Henry clue at Alpine Jewelers, when a gigantic clattering noise fills the first floor. The crashing continues, seemingly endless, until, finally, there’s an ear-splitting crescendo.

“Is someone playing cymbals?” Sage asks.

My blood chills as I realize what happened. I hold up one finger. “Wait for it.”

Aaaand, there it is. An ear-piercing scream. The sisters instinctively drop into twin fighting stances.

“Will you excuse me? I have to take care of this.”

Thyme puts a hand on my arm to stop me before I can dash. “Wait, real quick—Holly said there’s a 3D printer here. Sage has this great idea for a party favor.”

“Clem!” I point toward the chessboard, and Clemens Stillwater looks up. “Can you help Nick Jolly’s nieces with the 3D printer?”

He gives me a thumbs up. “Gladly. The kid’s trouncing me again, anyway.”

I turn back to the sisters. “Clem is our makerspace expert. He’ll show you how to use the printer.”

Brent giggles and runs over while his grandfather gathers his things. “Come on, I’ll take you to the Wonder Workshop. It’s upstairs.”

As Brent leads them toward the stairs, I race across the lobby and into the children’s’ wing. I screech to a halt in the middle of the hallway, where Sunny Min sits sobbing in a pile of hundreds of magnetic tiles.

I crouch beside her. “What happened?”

She takes a hiccuping breath, then wails, “Some man knocked over the ball run. And he pushed me down.”

I wipe a tear from her cheek. “A man? You’re sure he was a grown-up?” Sunny’s only six, and she’s petite. I’m guessing she means a bigger kid, possibly a preteen.

“A man,” she confirms. “He had on a hat and sunglasses. I didn’t see his face, but I bet it was a nasty, ugly one.”

“He certainly has nasty, ugly behavior,” I agree.

She surveys the wreckage. “Why did he do that? We worked so hard.”

They did. Sunny and a few of her classmates have been adding to the run every time they visit the library for weeks. The contraption took up half the hallway and was a marvel of elementary school engineering that delighted everyone who sent a ball coursing through it. My heart aches for her and her friends.

“I’m sorry, Sunny. That’s very unfair, and if he did it on purpose?—”

“He did!” She clenches her tiny fists.

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