Page 7 of Moonlight Over Mistletoe
“Well now, dear Nora, let me take your coats before we sit at the table. There’s plenty to go around,” Christopher chuckled.
Jack playfully elbowed Martin. “Tell me, cousin, why you can’t use your Santa magic to cook like this?”
Martin laughed. “Because then you’d be over at my house more than you already are.”
“Now boys,” Christoper said, “This was your grandmother’s recipe, and the secret ingredient is love, not magic.”
Nora rolled her eyes. “Really, Great-grandpa? That’s so cheesy. Can we just eat, please?”
They all laughed, and Nora, Jack, and Martin settled around the dining table while Christopher fetched the steaming lasagna and set it in the center of the table. “Nora, please bring out the garlic bread and salad.”
“You bet,” Nora said and returned quickly, carrying both items, a piece of garlic bread hanging out of her mouth.
“Well, thank you all for coming,” Christopher said. “Let’s dig in, and then you can tell me what’s going on in Mistletoe and how the Christmas preparations are going.”
Martin took a hearty bite of lasagna and grinned. “Grandpa, this is delicious. You’ve outdone yourself.”
Jack nodded in agreement, then leaned forward, and Christopher noted the mischievous glint in his eye. “You know, with skills like these, you should consider opening a restaurant. It’d be a great hobby.”
“You’ve been talking to your mother, evidently,” Christopher said, taking a sip of wine. So this was where the conversation was going.
“Don’t you think it’s time for a little fun outside of work?” Martin asked.
“It’s a bit late now, boys. I’m too set in my ways,” Christopher said, hoping to end the conversation.
“Well, if Eleanor Frost can change, you certainly can,” Nora said. “She’s organizing a ballroom dancing competition for the town hall fundraiser.”
Jack nearly choked on a bite of garlic bread. “Eleanor Frost? As in our resident Grinch?”
“Come now, Jack. Don’t be so harsh,” Christopher gently reprimanded.
“Grandpa, you don’t know Eleanor,” Jack said.
“But he does,” said Nora. “They met at Dad’s wedding. They danced the night away.”
Heat blossomed in Christopher’s cheeks. “Nora, my dear, we did not dance the night away. We shared a waltz.”
“Still,” Nora insisted, “you two were great together. You floated across the floor.” She clasped her hands together, held them against her heart, and fluttered her eyelids. “It was so romantic.”
Jack burst out laughing, causing Christoper to take a long sip of wine. “And what’s so funny?”
“You… and Eleanor… dancing,” Jack sputtered. He started coughing, and Martin had to slap him on the back. “Easy there, I bruise like a peach,” Jack said to Martin.
“Okay, so while I don’t share my cousin’s level of shock,” Martin began, “I, too, find it an unlikely fit.”
“Let’s set the record straight,” Christopher said. “First of all, we danced at your wedding. I did not propose marriage. Second, I enjoyed our dance together. And lastly, need I remind you not to judge someone until you’ve walked a mile in their shoes? We are Kringles. I expect better.”
“Yes, Grandpa. Sorry,” Jack said, yet his expression remained playfully defiant. It was the same look Jack had as a boy when he’d ‘accidentally’ turned Christopher’s toilet into ice.
“What’s that look for?” Jack asked.
“I was remembering the time you froze my toilet,” Christopher said.
“You did what?” asked Nora.
“A story for another time, and believe me, it’s a good one,” Jack told her. “As for now, I’d like to hear more about Eleanor’s ballroom dancing contest. Rosie and I were away when they announced the winning proposals.”
Martin turned to Christopher. “The town hall needs some desperate renovations. They were looking for ideas.”
