Page 14 of A Christmas Bargain

“Oh! Thank you!” I accepted the purchases and juggled sliding the straps of the bag onto my arm as I held the plate of toast with jellies.

I was starving, despite the huge Thanksgiving meal last night. This morning, I woke up hungry yet not, too anxious about the challenge before me. My appetite was lagging with my nerves, and I wasn’t sure if eating would be a good or bad idea. Now, though, with the scents of roasted chestnuts and freshly baked goods in the air, I was famished.

Instead of being in the way at this stall, I looked around the busy scene until I spotted a bench near another tent. They sure jammed a lot of things into this Main Street area, but it worked. It looked full and bustling. And the overall mood of the crowd was positive. People shopped and talked. Others were laughing near the food stalls. Kids were laughing and goofing off, especially here near the bench I’d found.

The toast was thick and crisp, a perfect complement to the sweet and tart jellies. Letting the flavors meld on my tongue, I watched the kids playing near a collection of wooden instruments anchored to the ground.

Smart.The designers of Preston’s town square knew what they were doing. Families loved seeing public green spaces for children, and adding structures like playground and interactive equipment was just another step above that.

“Hey!” A tall boy shouted loudly enough to make me flinch. “I want that.” He made a grab for the sticks a younger girl was using to play on a xylophone.

“Then wait your turn,” she replied bluntly, tapping the rounded end of the stick on the bars without glancing at him.

“No. You can’t tell me what to do,” he insisted, grabbing for the sticks again.

“And you can’t tellmewhat to do either, Hollis.” She tipped her chin up defiantly, experimenting with the notes.

You tell him, girl.

“I waited for my turn and I’m not done yet,” she said when he lunged to take the sticks out of her hands again.

“Tough shit,” the kid argued.

My brows shot up high. The girl looked nonplussed but commented, “That’s a bad word.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t care. Move it!” He grabbed for the sticks again, and she turned to hold them out of his reach.

“Stop bullying me,” she said. “I’d offer to share them so we can use them together, but you’re too mean.”

“I don’t wanna share. I want to play it now. Give them over, or else.”

She turned, getting in his face with a sneer. “Or elsewhat, punk?”

He snatched one stick and threw it, smiling smugly. The slim dowel flew through the air and knocked my empty paper plate to the ground. “Hey!”

The boy jolted at my stern shout. Maybe it was the fact that I was a stranger. Or maybe it was because I was bigger and therefore a figure of authority as an adult.

“You heard her,punk.” I narrowed my eyes and tried to look like that third-grade teacher who was so chill and effective that she made one of the bullies in my class cry and sob with an apology. “She’s not finished with her turn on the xylophone.”

“It’s a marimba,” the girl corrected plainly.

“Huh?” Talk about a smart Alec. But she didn’t irritate me like that boy did.

She nodded. “This is a marimba.”

Well, I guess you learn something new every day…

The element of surprise at an adult catching him being a brat wore off. He rolled his eyes at me. “Mind your own business, Lady,” he retorted.

Lady?The way he said it, like it was a derogatory slur, irked me. I stood, crossing my arms and glowering down at him. One more stern look was all it took.

He frowned and stepped away from her.

I pointed at the stick he threw and cleared my throat.

Sulking, with his head hanging, he got the stick and handed it back to the girl. Then he ran off, likely to bully another kid.

Wow.What a jerk! I shook my head and sat again.

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