Page 42 of Icing on Top
Nova rolled her eyes as she accepted a champagne flute from Lincoln. “To a happy Christmas,” Nova toasted, raising her glass. We all clinked glasses, and she briefly sipped hers before putting the glass down and returning to the food preparations. Watching her assemble the lasagna for tonight’s dinner was like watching an artist at work. She added the ingredients layer by layer, using more cheese than I suspected the recipe usually called for until the disposable aluminum pan was nearly overflowing.
“How on earth will you get that into the oven without the pan bending and spilling?” Grant asked.
Nova winked at him as she pulled out a baking sheet. With practiced moves, she slid the lasagna from the counter and onto the baking sheet without spilling a drop. “And now we can easily put it in the oven or anywhere else without losing it,” Nova announced. She covered it loosely with aluminum foil and popped it into the oven. “Ok. We have about an hour to get some caroling in. Come on!” she said excitedly as she pulled her apron off and tossed it on the counter. Nova downed the rest of her champagne and rushed to the door.
“Am I the only one that isn’t looking forward to this?” Grant asked quietly as we followed her to the door.
“Are you kidding me?” I asked incredulously. “I am fucking dreading this. This is a living nightmare, but look at how happy she is. If I have to do this to put that smile on her face, I’ll do it every fucking day for the rest of my life with a smile.”
Grant sighed in defeat as we stepped outside. “I’m being an ass again, aren’t I?”
“Yes,” Lincoln answered as he squeezed between us to run ahead and join Nova.
Thankfully, we weren’t the only ones out caroling. Apparently, it was an annual thing that some of the neighbors on her street got together to do. We caught up to Nova and Lincoln and blended into the rest of the crowd. “As long as we sing loud enough for Nova to hear us, we’ll be good,” I whispered to Grant. He nodded in agreement as our pack of merry singers stopped at a house. A little girl in a red dress ran up to the door and knocked three times before running back to her mother, grinning widely.
“Awww. She’s so adorable,” Nova gushed. I looked at Nova as the thought of children crossed my mind for the first time. Did she want kids? Did I want kids? I glanced at my brothers to gauge their reaction. Lincoln was practically drooling as he stared at her, so I guess that meant he was interested. I looked at Grant and barked a laugh that quickly became a cough. His face was white as his eyes bounced between Nova and the little girl. So the thought hadn’t occurred to him either. Good to know.
I didn’t get the chance to broach the subject because the moment the front door opened and its occupants stepped onto the porch, the group launched into “Jingle Bells,” complete with actual jingle bells that someone had brought along. When the song ended, we transitioned into “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” as we walked to the next house. We didn’t need to knock at this house, as the elderly couple were already on their front steps waiting for us.
By the fourth house, the three of us were some of the loudest in the group as we got caught up in the festivities. I couldn’t remember ever experiencing anything like this before. Spreading joy and seeing how much people were enjoying our singing was infectious. When it was time to return to the house for dinner, Nova had to drag us away.
“Ok, I hate to admit it, but that was a lot more fun than I thought it would be,” Grant said.
“I told you it would be fun,” Nova laughed.
“We’ll never doubt you again, doll,” I told her. When we stepped into the house, I breathed deeply and exhaled with a moan. “That smells fantastic!” I exclaimed as my stomach rumbled in agreement.
“Ok, while I get the rolls in the oven, can you guys get the table set?” Nova asked. “There is a salad in the fridge as well.”
“We’re on it, Sugar,” Linc replied, kissing her cheek.
Thirty minutes later, we were sitting down to eat. Grant refilled our champagne flutes as I took a piping hot bite of lasagna. “Fuck that is good,” I said around my food, causing Nova to beam happily. As we ate, we discussed the festival and what changes should be made for next year, then the conversation shifted to the gingerbread contest.
“Are you sure you will be able to get off?” Nova asked. She was worried about it, and I couldn’t blame her. We were spending longer hours at the office each day.
“Positive,” I assured her. Come hell or high water, we would be there.
“I’m really looking forward to it,” Lincoln said excitedly. “I’ve never made a gingerbread house before.”
When dinner was finished and cleaned up, Nova returned to the dining room with bags and a giant grin. “So I remembered that you guys said that Mama Clair had you decorate your stockings every Christmas Eve,” she said. “So when I went Christmas shopping the other day, I stopped at the craft store and got us stockings to decorate. Are you interested?”
“Hell, yes!” Lincoln said excitedly.
Grant and I exchanged grins as we grabbed the bags from her. We hadn’t decorated stockings since Mama Clair died, but up until then, even as adults, she had insisted we participate in the tradition. It felt like we were reclaiming a piece of our childhood as we spread out the supplies and got to work. I dutifully showed Nova the best way to apply the puff paint to the felt materialof the stocking. By the time we were all done, glitter covered us and the table, but we had four new stockings to hang over the fireplace. I wish I could say that our techniques had improved since we were kids, but they hadn’t. Nova’s was the only stocking that didn’t look like a six-year-old had decorated it. She had the unfair advantage of working with frosting and being artistic.
“Thank you for this,” I told her as I pulled her into my arms after we had hung them.
“Thank you for sharing your tradition with me,” she replied, relaxing against me. It made me smile. A month ago, she wouldn’t have allowed herself to lean on anyone because she thought she was too heavy. Now, she leaned against me without giving it a thought.
“Now what?” I asked.
“Now for my next surprise,” she said excitedly, dashing from the room again. We could hear her giggling from the bedroom.
“She’s a little too happy; something’s up,” Grant said, eyeing the hallway warily.
“Who cares,” Linc replied, playfully bumping him with his shoulder. “It’s Christmas Eve! Santa’s coming tonight!”
“I hope he won’t be the only one,” Nova joked as she returned to the room wearing cute pajamas. When she pulled three boxes from behind her back, I groaned. The boxes were clothing boxes, and that could only mean one thing. I accepted the box and opened it to find a white shirt with a plaid wreath in my size.
