Page 47 of Take Me Home for Christmas

“Your time starts . . . NOW!” she shouted.

It turned out Gidget was a decent partner. Her attention to detail was extraordinary. And, as with everything else she did, she was competent.

“The log cabin has been done a time or two before. Never with a chimney made from Rice Krispie treats, though,” she said as she molded the rice cereal bars into the shape of a chimney, wide at the bottom and narrow at the top. “And the moose head made of chocolate is a nice touch over the door. The pretzel antlers are perfect. I’m impressed you thought of it.”

“Wow, a compliment. You are losing your edge, Gidget.”

While he waited for her to finish the chimney, Everett took a moment to glance at the other workstations. No surprise, his eyes gravitated toward Kitty. The tip of her tongue was caught between her lips while she focused intently on using her frosting bag to design something ornate on one side of her house. From what he could see, she and the deputy were assembling a Swiss chalet, complete with sticks of taffy for skis. She must have felt the weight of his stare because she chose that moment to look over at him. The guileless smile she aimed his way was nearly his undoing.

There was a lot to like about the down-to-earth artist. She was forthright and unassuming. Her beauty was uncommon, like a piece of sea glass the ocean had thrown about for years until it emerged scarred but with its own unique loveliness. Smooth yet hard enough to endure the trials life had thrown at her. Kitty was enchanting in her simplicity. And Everett felt himself falling under her spell every time he encountered her.

He tore his eyes away and refocused his attention on Gidget. She’d finished assembling the chimney and was now decorating ice cream cones with green frosting.

“What the hell are those supposed to be?” he demanded.

“Trees. This is a hunting lodge, is it not?” She shook her head. “We are being judged on the landscaping too, West. Why is it that men never think about that?”

He hadn’t thought of it.

“Thirty minutes, people!” Tatum called out. “You have half an hour left.”

Everett picked up some of the leftover pretzels. “I’ll make a woodpile beside the back door.”

She nodded. They worked in companionable silence until Tatum yelled, “Hands down!”

The onlookers applauded. They surged forward to get an up-close look at the gingerbread houses. Everett leaned back in his chair and stretched his shoulders. Gidget was already up and taking photos of all the entries.

“Can you tag the bakery in those?” Tatum asked her.

“Yep. I’ll share the photos with you so you can use them on your socials, too.”

“She’s a dynamo, that one,” Bernice, the town crier, remarked as she inspected their log cabin. “Vantageis wasting her talents. Did you know she’s published in multiple magazines?”

Everett didn’t know that. He’d assumed she was like the other Gen Zs working atVantage, one who used her family name and connections to get her job rather than having any real talent. Over the past decade, he’d encountered so many of their type in his business dealings. Perhaps he was wrong about Gidget.

“Her father kept all her articles on file in his office at the torpedo factory. Miles uses the place as his congressional office now, but the articles are still in a file cabinet there. You should stop by and read them sometime.”

Her challenge issued, Bernice moved on. Everett shook off the feeling that Keeley was trying to tell him something. He didn’t have time to figure it out, though, because suddenly there was a commotion at the door.

“Midas, no!” a woman yelled right before all hell broke loose in the bakery.

“Foiled by a golden retriever,”Everett complained later that evening.

He and Kitty were camped near the city pier with blankets covering their legs and Irish coffee in their thermal mugs. The night sky was clearer than it had been for the tree lighting the other day. The temperature was more forgiving, too. Everett was amazed by the number of teenage boys wearing shorts in December.

Families gathered along the pier, staking out the best viewing spots for the flotilla. Others were bobbing up and down in boats just yards from the shoreline. The brightly colored tree at the end of the pier served as their beacon.

Kitty wiped the tears from her eyes as she chuckled. The chaos in the bakery would kill it on social media had someone thought to video it. Even Gidget was too busy trying to catch the dog to film for her vlog.

“You have to admit Midas has good taste, though,” she said. “He went right for the Slice and Sip’s gingerbread house. A breadstick cabin with pepperoni shingles. And the boughs of basil decorating the door and windows?” She acted out a chef’s kiss. “It was on brand and, I’m sure, delicious.”

He grunted. The dog had escaped the leash being held by Gavin’s wife and immediately vaulted onto one of the tables. In the process of devouring the pizza parlor’s gingerbread house, his exuberant tail swiped Everett’s cabin to the floor, demolishing the moose head and the chimney Gidget had painstakingly put together before the judges even got to see it. Worse still, Kitty’s beautiful chalet was flattened when a spectator knocked into her table, trying to corral the dog.

He reached over and took her hand. “Your chalet was magnificent. It would have won if that damn dog hadn’t mutilated it.” He brought her fingers to his lips. “He didn’t bother touching the ridiculous doghouse decorated with biscuits.”

“I’m glad that one survived. It wasn’t ridiculous, either. You have to agree the doghouse was on brand. Addison owns the Bed and Biscuit. She’s very creative.”

“Hmm. I smell a rat,” he said. “She and the dog were probably in on it.”

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