Page 2 of Flake It Til You Make It

“I spent the last two weeks trying to get the festival committee to consider letting me supply the cookies for the tree lighting, thinking maybe I could convince the town to try me again.” When Rebecca shot him another one of those looks, he kept going. “I was even going to serve goddamnnormalthings, I swear. Chocolate chip and sugar and snickerdoodle and peanut butter. I showed up more than once with baskets of cookies. Fresh baked! And you know what they said?”

Rebecca sighed. “I can only imagine.”

“Joel’s handling it. Joel knows what he’s doing. Like I don’t know what I’m doing!”

“You did take pumpkin spice off the menu.” She was smiling again, and yes, it sounded very stupid when she said it now.

His head had just been building castles in the sky.

“Holly and Joelle supplied cookiesevery yearto the tree lighting before last year. Joel does it one year and he ‘knows what he’s doing’!” Rocco made a frustrated noise and re-started banging his head, before Rebecca stopped him again, grabbing him by a handful of dark curls.

“You’ll figure something out,” Rebecca promised. “You’re a smart guy. You’re good at this, when you get out of your own way.”

“Thanks,” Rocco said dryly. “But we Morettis aren’t just ‘good at this’! We’re spectacular! We’re fabulous! We’re fuckingsynonymous with flavor and experience.”

“No? Are y’all as dramatic as that, too?”

Rocco laughed, because otherwise he was going to cry. “Believe it or not, I’m from the undramatic branch of the family.”

Rebecca joined him, downright cackling with delight at this impossibility. “Would one of your cousins be on his knees by now, rending his garments and banging his fists on the floor?”

It was easier to keep laughing, and even easier still when Rocco considered this. “Absolutely,” he said. “Gabe, yes. He’d be beside himself. He’s so fucking emotional. And Lorenzo? Yeah. He’d be right alongside there with him, unless it messedup his perfect hair. Luca? He’d have issued an edict ordering everyone to return, or else.”

“Or else?”

“There’d be a town coup if Luca was in charge. Governmental change number one would be a law requiring everyone to visit Jolly Java once a day.”

“Well, there’s always that,” Rebecca said lightly.

“There’s always that,” Rocco retorted morosely.

“Well, one positive about being slow today is that we can close early, for the tree lighting,” Rebecca said. “You gonna head over?”

“So I can eat perfect Joel’s perfect cookies? No fucking thank you,” Rocco said.

“Rocco,” Rebecca chided.

He sighed. “No,” he murmured. “I’m not in the mood. Maybe I’ll take up that whole tray of pastries and gorge myself on the couch, watching the worst TV I can find.”

“I thinkReal Housewiveshas a Duluth edition, these days,” Rebecca teased.

“Ugh, that might actually be better than thinking about how I’ve messed this up,” Rocco said.

Rebecca whacked him on the shoulder before turning and heading to the front door, flicking off theopensign, grabbing the chalkboard sign, and tucking it behind a row of barstools that stood on the new tall bar that ran alongside the big picture window.

Rocco had imagined people sitting there, working on their laptops and enjoying the beautifully decorated streets of downtown Christmas Falls.

That had not happened.

“Come on,” she said, “you’re gonna come with me to the tree lighting. It’s your first one here, you can’t miss it because you’re throwing yourself a big pity party.”

“I’m not exactly in a festive mood,” Rocco argued.

“Doesn’t matter.” Rebecca shot him another look, but this one was softer, affectionate. “In Christmas Falls, everyone’s welcome. Even grinches.”

“I’m not a grinch.” In fact, Rocco had actually kind of looked forward to living in a town with this much affection for and attention to the holidays. It felt like when he’d been a kid, he’d never gotten much of that kind of season-long revelry. Other than the celebration on Christmas Day itself, when the restaurant was closed, in December it always had been packed with revelers and holiday parties and office celebrations. His parents certainly hadn’tignoredhim, but that was one of their busiest times of year. In fact, starting at a young age, Rocco had often been drafted to help.

He’d been excited about being part of this community expression of pure holiday joy.

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