Page 69 of The Neighborhood Witch

Hugo moved around the island and hugged Alice. His hands moved up and down her back. Alice quivered the further down his hands traveled. They inched closer and closer to the small of her back with each passing rub.

“Where is your Christmas spirit? You don’t buy cookies in a cookie exchange. That’s the whole point.”

“I have plenty of Christmas spirit, thank you very much. I don’t have a lot of baking spirit.”

“Well, I’ll cover you in that area.” Hugo released her and strode to the pantry. He removed a bag of flower and sugar. He proceeded to the refrigerator to gather eggs, a box of baking soda, and otheringredients. He carefully placed each item on the island in their designated places.

“You know, if you want the best cookies, we should ask Holly,” Alice offered.

Hugo paused. “Who’s Holly?”

“Holly. Holly Claus. Santa’s wife. She’s a kitchen witch,” Alice replied with a confused look. “You don’t know who Holly is?”

“First, I’ve never heard of Holly Claus, only Mrs. Claus,” Hugo answered. “Second, there is no Santa Claus or Mrs. Claus.”

Alice stood there with crossed arms. Her face was solemn, and her eyes were piercing. Hugo’s smile faded to worry.

“How dare you?”

“You… you don’t still believe, do you?” Hugo asked.

“First, the Clauses are the nicest people I’ve ever met.” Alice raised a finger to illustrate her point.

“You’re joking, right?”

Any figurative pretense of staring daggers seemed to manifest thoughts of Alice literally throwing kitchen knives. Alice snapped her fingers, and the refrigerator, cabinet, and pantry doors flung open. Hugo ducked behind the island as all the items he previously placed on the wooden countertop flew past his head and found their way back to their original storage homes. The doors slammed shut with another snap of Alice’s fingers.

“Second, you’re being very insulting right now, especially this close to Christmas. Third, the Clauses make frequent visits to Ez’s place throughout the year. I’ve known them for a while. Fourth, Holly’s shortbread cookies are the best. She gives me a batch every year for Christmas. They are the best you’ll ever taste if—and right now that’s a big if—I’m feeling in the Christmas giving mood.”

“Perfect.” Hugo rose from the sanctity of his hiding spot. “So, you’re already familiar with cookie exchanges.”

Alice stormed out of the kitchen.

“Alice!” Hugo shouted as he followed her into the hallway. “Alice, wait.”

Her footsteps echoed down the hallway as she stormed off. Fresh, lush evergreen garland adorned the hallway. The smell of cinnamon and pine permeated throughout the house. Red and green candles were lit in their black candelabras atop the antique tables.

Max and Galahad rushed into the hallway from the living room, excited to see the commotion. Max’s tail swung low, back and forth. Galahad hovered at eye level. It surveyed the hallway, looking for any signs of trouble, only to be excited at the sight of Alice and Hugo.

“I’m sorry.”

She stopped and held an arm back, wiggling her fingers. He accepted her unspoken invitation and grabbed her hand. She turned around to face him. He batted his eyes in his attempt at an apology. Max nudged Alice’s free hand.

“Look, I’m sorry if I offended you. I was joking around.”

“It hurt, Hugo,” Alice replied. “It didn’t feel like joking around.”

Hugo’s playful expression turned morose.

“She’s not that hurt,” a familiar voice yelled from upstairs.

“We don’t need input from you,” Alice yelled back.

In a rhythmic, sarcastic response, the voice replied, “I know what she really wants.”

“Enough from the peanut gallery,” Alice replied as she snapped her fingers.

The bedroom door slammed shut, and the voice upstairs became muffled.

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