Page 112 of The Hockey Grump Saves Christmas

“Carly.” Polly uses a warning tone similar to the one I adopt with the most unruly kids, then turns to me. “Don’t listen to her. I know what it’s like when she meddles.”

“And where did my meddling get you, Polly?” Carly asks, wide-eyed.

Polly shakes her head and says nothing.

“It got you married, didn’t it?” Carly says proudly. “To a billionaire.”

Aaaand, it’s time to get out of here.

“I’m not sure you had that much to do with it,” Polly murmurs, looking around the shop like she’s worried we’re drawing attention.

Carly is always fun, but I am absolutely not being drawn into this thing where the fun seems to be me. Especially since I have rarely felt as un-fun as I have these last few days.

“Gotta run,” I tell them. “See you at the play the day after tomorrow.”

“Happy holidays,” Polly says with a kind smile.

“Say hi to the hockey hottie,” Carly calls after me.

Her comment is followed by Polly’s shushing noise.

This is one of the rare moments where I see the downside of living somewhere with a sense of community—the moment when the community starts to meddle.

Anyway, I just need to make it down the street to where I parked and I’ll be fi?—

I crash straight into a small person.

“Shit, sorry.”

The kid looks up at me from under her too-big hat and turns out to be Abigail.

“I mean, sugar, bother, darn it. Sorry.”

My profanity replacement game is not on point when I’m in a hurry to get away from people trying to find out if I’ve been more than friendly with a big-league hockey star.

“It’s all right, Miss Natalie,” Abigail says. “Dad says it all the time.”

“Ah, okay.” Is it okay?

“He says I can’t say it though.”

“Good. That’s good.” I look down the street behind Abigail, then turn to check behind me. “Are you on your own?”

“No. Dad went into the hardware store.” She jerks her thumb over her shoulder. “I was bored looking at screws, so he said I could go get some parsley from Polly.”

“Okay. That’s fine then. Happy parsley shopping.”

I step around her, but Abigail turns to follow me. “She’s bad,” she says.

I stop in my tracks. She can’t possibly mean Polly.

“Who’s bad? Is someone bullying you?” Being small and smart, she’s the ultimate bully target. “Because that’s not okay. People shouldn’t treat you badly beca?—”

“Miss Divina,” Abigail says. “Bad. Horrible. She’s absolutely horrible.”

Her little face is pained. Eyebrows pinched, mouth tight.

“Um.” I’m really not in the mood to deal with this, but I can’t exactly leave her worrying, and she obviously is. “Well, people can seem not that…nice…when you first meet them. But a lot of the time it’s just because they’re new.”

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