Page 5 of Spicy Nick

“Okay, look,” Lucy says. “It’s Christmas, right? So, what do people do at Christmas?”

I’m pretty sure Dan’s perplexed expression mirrors my own as we start offering suggestions.

“Decorate houses?”

“Put up trees?”

“Bake cookies?”

“Hang stockings?”

“Send Christmas cards?”

“Sing carols?”

“Take their kids to see Santa?”

“Buy annoying drinks like that one there, which you’re gonna end up spilling all over yourself if you don’t finish drinking it soon?”

“No!” Lucy replies. Then adds, “I mean, yes. Sure. All those things, too. Other than the fact that my drink is not annoying, Dan; thank you very much.”

“We’ll see.”

“What you’ve both failed to mention is gifts! People exchange presents, don’t they? And what was the real reason Scout had to rush to LA before your wedding—to pick up her wedding present for you Nick. So, my guess is that that’s why she’s there now, too. She probably got you something special for Christmas, and for some reason she had to go down there to pick it up. Although since she flew instead of driving this time, she’s probably bringing back something small.”

“Okay,” I answer slowly, thinking about it. “That makes sense.”

“Yeah, it does.” Dan smiles proudly. “Good work, babe. I bet that’s it.”

I nod and shrug. It could be. I’m not quite sure it fits the feeling I’ve been getting from her, but it’s possible.

“Or…it’s also possible that I was right the first time,” Lucy says. “And that means that the reason she hasn’t told you she’s pregnant is because she’s planning on surprising you with the news on Christmas. So make sure you act surprised—’cause I don’t want her getting mad at me again for spilling the tea.”

“Wait, Scout’s pregnant?” Dan asks.

I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”

“But you’re not sure,” Lucy says. “Isn’t that what you said? And, at this stage, that would make for a very small gift. So, that’s more proof that I’m probably right. But, either way, I’d stop worrying if I were you. I’m sure it will all work out.” Then she nods toward the lawn and says, “However, you might want to call Cole over here again. They’re almost ready for him and he looks a fright.”

Somehow, in the very few minutes since I’d last checked in on him, Cole’s managed to get himself extremely grubby. So, the next few minutes are preoccupied with combing his hair, straightening out his shirt, and quickly cleaning his face and hands with wipes from a package that Lucy miraculously produces seemingly from thin air.

Moms. I swear, they’re a breed apart. I can’t for the life of me figure out how it is that they’re not running the whole world yet. Unless they are, and we just don’t know about it. But, nah; that can’t be the case. The world would be much less fucked up if it were.

Finally, one of Santa’s elves (a local high school student that I sort of recognize from taking my daughter to school events) escorts Cole over to Santa’s throne and I take out my phone and start videotaping the scene because I’m sure Scout will want topore over every second. Meanwhile, Lucy hands Dan her drink and pulls out her phone, as well, and starts snapping photos for much the same reason.

“Who do they have playing Santa this year,” I ask, when I realize that I don’t recognize the young man on whose lap my son is seated.

“Not sure,” Dan replies. “Hard to tell, what with the beard, and all. He looks familiar, but I can’t place him.”

“He has a nice smile,” Lucy remarks. “But I think I’d remember if I’d seen it before. And I don’t think I do.”

Dan laughs softly in response and then adds, “Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell. Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace, yet grace must still look so.”

I turn my head to stare at him. “What was that?”

Lucy rolls her eyes. “Oh, God, don’t ask,” she groans. “He’s always quoting something. You know that.” She takes a few more pictures then turns to her husband. “That was Shakespeare, right?”

Dan looks impressed. “Very good. Want to try and guess the play?”

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