Page 115 of The Hockey Grump Saves Christmas

“Do you have an appointment?” Gavin asks, dabbing the corner of his mouth with a napkin.

They’re all holding cups and saucers and sitting in armchairs around a low table set with a tray, a teapot, and two plates of cookies and slices of cake. It’s like I’ve stumbled upon a relaxing afternoon at Buckingham Palace.

Victor clinks his cup back onto the saucer and places it on the table, while Uzma spoons sugar into her tea and Dorothy pops the final piece of a slice of yellow cake into her mouth.

“Too urgent for an appointment.” Sweltering, I yank off my hat. “Do you all know what that appalling woman is doing to the play?”

“Natalie, we—” Whatever Dorothy was about to say is interrupted by her coughing like her cake went down the wrong way.

Gavin leans across the gap between their two chairs and pats her on the back. “Cough up chicken,” he says, “there’s a duck in the oven.”

“Whatareyou talking about?” Uzma asks.

Gavin looks around his fellow council members, stunned to find them all baffled. “You’ve never heard that saying before?”

They shake their heads.

“My grandmother used to say it,” he says with a shrug, like that explains it.

“But what does it mean?” Uzma asks.

“No idea,” Gavin says. “Never thought about it before. It’s just become a family saying when someone coughs. Because of Grandma.”

“Hmm.” Victor scratches his chin. “Chickens and ducks. Interesting.”

“Maybe it’s something from the days when there werelots of farmers.” Uzma desperately tries to rationalize the madness.

“My grandma used to say, ‘It’s not the cough that carries you off, it’s the coffin they carry you off in,’” Dorothy adds to the confusion.

Good God. Will they not shut up about chickens and ducks and grandmas and coffins?

“Look.” At my harsh tone, they turn back to me with oh-we-forgot-you-were-here expressions.

“Divina is ruining everything. I have no idea why you gave her the job. She’s obviously completely ill-suited to it. She has zero empathy. Less than zero understanding of children. And is turning the Christmas play into a one-woman off-Main Street show.”

“Well, we do think?—”

I don’t give one single fuck what Dorothy thinks. “She flounces around in her flouncy clothes, dropping names so often and so heavily I’m surprised there aren’t dents in the floor. And that’s all she cares about. Trying to impress people with her past credentials. Yes, the kids could benefit from learning from someone with way more actual acting experience than I have. But I can promise you, with one hundred percent certainty, that they will learn nothing from this particular someone.”

“But, Nat?—”

“Absolutely no buts,” I snap at Gavin. “She wanted to put a piano on the ice. Did you know that?” They glance at each other like they’re embarrassed for me that I’m standing here having a tantrum.

Screw that. Gabe and Aunt Lou might think I don’t stand up for myself enough, but I sure as hell will stand up for what’s best for these kids.

“So, apart from anything else, you shouldbe concerned about her from a health and safety standpoint.” An added layer of form-filling might just be the kick in the butt they need. “We weren’t allowed to have the kids on the stage because of the fire damage, but she wants to put a whole-ass piano on a frozen pond that has kids standing on it, and you’re fine with that?”

“The thing is, Nat?—”

Uzma, who I usually like because at least she has a good brain in her head, can shut the hell up too, I’m on a roll. “I know it’s none of my business. I know I resigned. And I know I’m moving away.” And those are the first words that make my voice crack. There’s a growing tremble in my chest, but I am not done with these people yet. “I know you can appoint whoever you like to replace me. But I need you to know you’ve made a terrible mistake.”

They stare back in silence now.

Gavin drains his teacup, sets it on the saucer and holds it in his lap. Uzma and Dorothy look at each other, then turn to Victor, whose elbows rest on the arms of his chair, his fingers steepled under his chin.

“Please.” My voice is losing its power. “Please don’t inflict her on the kids. She’s all wrong for the job. So wrong. Couldn’t be more wrong. She’ll drive a steamroller right over everything I’ve built here these last six years.”

There’s a swelling lump in my throat and a dangerous prickle behind my eyes. I cannot cry in front of these people. Iwill notcry in front of these people.

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