Page 15 of Spicy Nick

“Yourhome?” Scout asks insistently.

Dan’s eyebrows climb up toward his hairline. “Well…yeah. Last I checked, it was.”

“It’s Christmas Eve,” I remind Scout. “We’re going there for dinner tonight, remember? You know how Lucy always goes all-out on the holidays.” In point of fact, Kate’s probably there too, by now; visiting with her cousins, and the relatives from out of town. Helping with the cooking, part of the crew.

I just hope she had good luck with her shopping assignment, beforehand. “We’ll be doing the same tomorrow,” I say now, and wonder—yes, for the first time, because sometimes I’m a little slow on the uptake—whether Lucy wasn’t right again. Maybe Scout isn’t feeling up to the task. “You don’t feel like we should cancel do you?”

“What? No. No, of course not,” she replies, then quickly excuses herself—letting Cole, who’s been trying to get her attention for the last few minutes, pull her away in search of Christmas treats.

“What the hell was that about?” Dan asks, once she’s out of earshot.

“Damned if I know,” I reply rubbing the back of my neck and sighing deeply. “I honestly don’t know what’s going on.”

“So, she hasn’t said anything yet?”

“No.”

“Okay then…do we think this means what we think it means?”

Oddly enough, I don’t need that cryptic question explained. Which goes to show how crazy I’ve become. “I don’t know what it means. With any luck, I’ll find out tomorrow.”

Unless it’s some kind of bad news, I think suddenly, momentarily losing my breath in the process. If that’s the case, then she might try and keep it a secret untilafterthe holidays. That thought’s enough to turn my blood to ice. It also makes me twice as determined to cling to what we have, to protect her or us or…damned if I know. Whatever needs protecting, I guess.

“You know, your cousin gets some wild hairs up her butt, from time to time,” Dan says reflectively. “And I will admit that most of the time she’s right.”

“I know,” I tell him. To be honest, I’m kind of hoping this is one of those times. Because, at this point, a baby is the only positive explanation I can think of for why Scout’s acting the way she is.

None of the other ideas that are springing to mind are good at all. So, maybe I don’t want to know what her secret is. Maybe I do want the bliss that ignorance is offering me: One last, happy Christmas. One perfect, snow globe moment. Something that I can look back on and cling to forever.

Which is why it’s less than comforting when Dan continues, “I guess what I’m trying to say is…I’m not sure this is one of those times.”

Which is just fan-fucking-tastic. “C’mon,” I say nudging Dan, who’s suddenly looking just about as glum as I’m feeling. “Let’s get that tree loaded, okay? I need to get home.”

Look, no one ever really knows what’s coming down the pike. And anyone who tells you otherwise, is lying. That’s why the Ghost of Christmas Future doesn’t speak. The future is forever unknown.

The future’s unknown, the past is unchanging, but the present is ours to make what we will of it. And I’m determined to make this holiday—today, tomorrow, however long we have—the best that it can be.

Despite what Iled Dan to believe, we don’t rush home once we leave the nursery. We take the long way around, instead. Because it’s scenic and less heavily trafficked, to be sure. Butmostly because it’s filled with memories of yesteryears. That’s why we also stop at the Buena Vista diner. To get an early lunch, served with an extra helping of nostalgia.

There’s a sprig of mistletoe hanging over the entrance, and I make sure to stop Scout just as she walks through the doorway. It’s a short kiss, and relatively chaste since Cole is with us, still Scout looks pleased, and her cheeks pink up and I think maybe I’m making progress. I’m only sorry that I didn’t think to pick some up while we were at the nursery. So, I do the next best thing and shoot a quick text to Dan, placing an order and telling him that I’ll pick it up at his house, tonight.

The Buena Vista’s been around forever. Scout and I used to come here when we were dating twenty-five years ago. After a short and probably pointless discussion, we order the same thing we always get—burgers, fries and chocolate shakes, all around. With whipped cream on all the shakes and extra cherries on Scout’s.

I’m excited for Cole to be here, and happy to think that I’m introducing the next generation of Grecos to this special place. But my mood dims a little when I realize that Scout’s gone back to being quiet again, studying the faces of every server who passes by as though she’s looking for someone, or something—and maybe a little afraid of finding them.

“Been a while since we’ve been here, huh?” I say—when nothing more original comes to mind.

Scout laughs. “That’s funny. It feels like yesterday, to me.”

“Does it?” I glance around. “Well, it’s not like anything here ever changes, so maybe that’s why?”

“Is that really true though?” she asks, eyeing the single rose in the bud vase on the table. “I can’t remember any more. Were these flowers always real? Didn’t they used to be plastic?”

“I don’t think I ever noticed,” I tell her. “I wasn’t really paying attention to the decor.”

“Well, at least this one’s alive,” she says, gently touching a petal. And then, before I can ask what the heck that’s supposed to mean, she asks, “Adam and Sinead are still coming for dinner tomorrow, aren’t they?”

“Far as I know,” I tell her.

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