Page 32 of A Christmas Harbor

Outside, the late-morning sky was a sharp blue, accentuating the frosting of snow that lay on the bridge, the houses, the trees, and the boats. On the other side of Spa Creek, Annapolis looked like the village from David and Shawn’s boyhood Christmas train set.

He swept the two-inch-deep coating of snow from the cockpit, then cleared a landing space on the narrow pier so they wouldn’t slip while stepping off the boat. David went across first, then steadied Paul as he followed.

“This snow’s pretty wet.” Paul scooped up a handful. “You know what that means.”

David made a T-shaped timeout gesture. “No horseplay next to the water. Too easy to fall in.”

“Right. Sorry.”

As Paul moved toward the lane, David crouched down and made two of his own snowballs. Then he followed, winging a snowball into the back of Paul’s head the moment his feet touched pavement.

“Hey!” Paul whirled to face him. “That’s not fair. I can’t fire back while you’re still on the dock.”

“Life’s not fair.” David threw the other snowball, hitting Paul in the chest. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Paul darted away, toward the marina’s main parking lot, where a dozen or so cars sat, some still snow-covered and others already cleaned and dripping. David made as many snowballs as he could carry without losing agility.

He skirted the edge of the parking lot, but saw no sign of Paul, who was no doubt hiding behind one of the cars.

In contrast to last night’s soggy desolation, Eastport had come to life this morning. Kids were hurrying to make snowmen before the impending melt. A huddle of parents watched them, sipping from cups of coffee or something stronger. A car rumbled down the lane beside the marina, giving friendly beeps at passersby.

“Merry Christmas, David!” came a woman’s voice. He turned to see his neighbors Jenna and Kimani waving at him from across the parking lot. He waved back at the two women but held his position in case Paul was waiting in ambush.

“Mr. Jeffries!” called Jenna and Kimani’s son, currently building one of the more ambitious snowmen. Reggie was always first in line to hear tales of submarine life at the summer block parties. “Can you help me put the head on top?” He flapped his red-mittened hands at a lump of snow the size of a beach ball.

Shit. David couldn’t refuse, but breaking cover would make him a sitting duck for a snowball. “Coming!” He hurried into the open space, bending low and doing a slight serpentine to create a more elusive target. When he was halfway to Reggie, the boy covered his mouth and giggled.

David spun around, raising an arm to ward off an incoming snowball from the parked cars.

Sploosh! A direct shot to the back of his neck. He cried out at the icy shock, then turned to Reggie. How had a six-year-old hit him with such force and precision?

Paul stood up from behind the headless snowman, raising his fists in triumph. “Boom! Head shot!”

It took everything in David not to curse in front of a child. Instead he rapid-fire pelted Paul with all the snowballs still in his grasp.

Soaked and spluttering, Paul handed Reggie a dollar bill. “Thanks, man. You were perfect.” Then he came over to David and tugged on his wet shirt collar. “Hey, I know where there’s a free clothes dryer,” he said in a low voice, “and maybe even someone to help you out of all your wet things.”

It was tempting to accept Paul’s offer and head back to the boat immediately. Instead, David took his hand. “First, come meet some people.”

They went over to the dozen or so neighbors who were gathered at the edge of the parking lot. He introduced Paul to them all, purposely not referring to him as a friend.

“Well?” Kimani gave David an expectant look. “Did you avoid Whamageddon?”

He glanced at Paul, who kept a straight face, making good on his promise not to reveal his fall into Wham-halla. Then he turned back to Kimani. “It found me at nine-forty-nine last night.”

A choral groan of sympathy went up from his friends. “You were our last hope!” Jenna said.

“It’s okay.” David looked at Paul. “It turned out to be one of the best things that ever happened to me.”

“It got us at Reggie’s school,” Jenna said, not questioning David’s declaration. “They had the kids’ choir singing it, can you believe that?”

“They weaponized your own children against you?” Paul asked. “That’s unforgivable.”

Everyone laughed. “I like him,” Kimani told David. “You can keep him.”

The tips of Paul’s ears were turning red—maybe from the cold, maybe not.

“So if you’re new in town,” Jenna said to Paul, “are you free for Christmas dinner at four?”

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