Page 46 of The Holiday Hate-Off
I start laughing, unable to finish the thought, because she just added a zit to my face on the flyer. She adds another before shooting me a smug look. “I recommend salicylic acid. It works wonders.”
Laughing, I ask, “Are we still getting dinner on Thursday night? If so, can I request that you bring the dry-erase marker? Maybe I’ll even let you draw on me. You can bring a green one too, if you’d like. Make it festive.”
She nearly drops the marker before tucking it into the pocket of her coat. Giving me a holier-than-thou look, she says, “I haveno ideawhat you’re talking about, and I’d rather not find out.”
“Of course not. By the way, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t poison me. My grandmother and siblings are fond of me.”
“God only knows why.”
“I agree,” I say, rocking on my heels. “Say…I have a hot tip for you and Eileen.”
She plants a hand on her hip. “You’ll excuse me if I don’t fall all over myself in excitement.”
“I think I’d like to see that.”
She glares at me.
I lift my hands in surrender. “Okay, fine. But you’ll want to hear this. My brother Giovanni told me he thinks Portia wouldn’t be opposed to spending more time with Amanda Willis. I guess they had a moment at the Christmas tree lighting.”
Interest sparks in her eyes, immediately extinguished by suspicion. “Why are you telling me? Does this have something to do with the lobster candy cane you sent? Are you going to bribe Portia to?—”
I’m already shaking my head. “No, I just know Eileen likes her matchmaking. I figured I’d help out. The spirit of Christmas compelled me.”
She snorts. “I’d be less surprised if I caught Santa eating my milk and cookies.”
“Is that a euphemism about Santa Speed Dating?” I ask, cocking my head. “You got a thing for men who dress up like the big guy?”
Her expression turns pinched. “I wouldn’t know, would I? Because I never got a chance to talk to half of them.”
“I look forward to seeing what your next move is, Lucia.”
Then I uncap my own marker and lower the price of our cappuccino on the sandwich board. She gasps and hurries inside, probably to ask Eileen for permission to continue our price war.
The competition with Lucy really heats up, and keeping up with our game requires nearly all my focus. By the end of the day, I’m sweating, Nico is calling me a dozen different swears in Italian, and we’re giving away our cappuccinos for free.
Nonna Francesca, who has never met a grudge she didn’t want to get behind, is all for it until we run out of milk.
Before I head out to get more, I text Erica to check whether the dinner date is still on. Cell service is decent today, and it only takes a few minutes for her all-caps reply to come through.
ABSOLUTELY!
I’M SO EXCITED TO HEAR HOW IT GOES.
NOW, REMEMBER, NO QUESTIONS ABOUT WHO SHE IS UNTIL THURSDAY NIGHT.
Of course not.
Lucy’sdefinitelyup to something, and I can’t wait to see what it is. But we have a few days to go before Thursday, and the war is still in full effect.
That night, I give serious thought to what I could do to mess with the Crochet Club. Unleash a stray cat?
The thought amuses me, but Lucy would probably just crochet the cat a sweater and declare it the café cat, making it a win for her.
I could mess with the power again, but it would be unoriginal. If I’m going to pull something, it has to be unexpected and impressive.
Maybe I can hack into their music streaming system and play that ridiculous old Christmas song “Dominic the Donkey” over and over again? It would be enough to drive a person insane, that’s for sure. But the phone service and internet in Hideaway aren’t nearly reliable enough for me to depend on it working.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”I mutter to myself. I should be scheming to save Hidden Italy, working hard to cultivate the nugget of an idea I brainstormed the other night. That’s why I’m here. Instead, I’m staying up late thinking ofways to sabotage a crocheting club that’s probably full of grandmas.
