Page 132 of The Holiday Hate-Off
Then I rocket ahead, showing him my six-minute mile.
I can hear him laughing behind me as he tries to catch up. Charlie’s waiting at the finish line as I blast toward it, laughing and whooping. There’s no sign of Lars. She, of course, knows all about my six-minute mile.
“He’s right behind you,” she hollers through gusts of laughter.
Sure enough, right after I cross the finish line, he catches me from behind in a sweaty Santa hug. “You’ve been averynaughty girl,” he says, panting against my ear. “I’m proud of you, Lucia. You tricked me good.”
Lars appears through the crowd with a tray of drinks. “Hot glögg,” he says. “The drink of champions.”
I grin at Enzo, buzzing with ridiculous, mischievous joy. “Then Enzo doesn’t get one. He got lapped by several children and an old lady who uses a walker. Now, who wants to see another Cafiero get owned?”
It’s time for the ice sculpture competition at the Locke Reserve, the protected estate at the edge of town, and for the youngest Cafiero boy’s time in the spotlight. Giovanni’s holding down the fort at Hidden Italy so Enzo can witness Nico’s modeling debut.
“Oh,come on, Resa, that doesn’t look a thing like me,” Nico complains, frowning at the ice sculpture glinting in the sunlight. He’s wearing a heavy overcoat Enzo brought him to put on right after she finished.
“I think it’s a perfect likeness,” she says primly as she sets down her tool kit to study her sculpture.
Charlie and I are both shaking with silent laughter. I can’t tell whether the artist, Resa, is messing with him, the way I did with Enzo during that race, or if she actually thinks it’s a good likeness. She gave him a nose like a swollen tomato and one eye significantly larger than the other, but it looks enough like him that everyone will know who it’s supposed to be.
Some of the artists in this competition are professionals, and others are decidedly amateurs, like the man beside us, who carved what amounts to a smiley face in the ice. Resa, who’s a teacher at the high school, is somewhere in between.
I know a few of the participants, including Lumi, who’s with a very distinguished silver fox. Bearded, as she apparently likes them.
“Itisreally lifelike,” Charlie says.
“You captured his eyes perfectly,” I add, probably because of all the glögg we’ve been drinking. The post-race cup is long gone, but Lars has proven gifted at hunting down the glögg that’s being passed around.
“My girl is an art aficionado,” Enzo says, grinning at his brother, happy to give everyone he cares about shit, apparently. “Resa, would you mind if I take some photos?”
“Oh no, not at all,” she says. “I want to submit it to the paper.”
Nico grumbles; Enzo gets his phone out and starts snapping photos.
“Now let me take one of you standing next to it, Nico,” Enzo says. “It’s for Aria. You’ll do it for Aria.”
Apparently, Nico reallywilldo it for Aria, which is incredibly sweet, because he sighs and drags his feet but poses for the photo.
“Put your Santa hat on Nico, Junior,” Enzo says. “Share the wealth.”
“I’m afraid not,” Resa says, shaking her head adamantly. “Wewant the ice to last as long as possible. I checked the weather forecast, and it should last for a good long while.”
“Let’s get another drink,” Nico mutters, rubbing his nose as if he’s worried it might swell to the size of the ice sculpture’s.
“Soon.” Enzo eyes me, grinning. “I promised Lucia we’d go caroling. God forgive the man who upsets Lucia.”
“Yes, let the fun continue,” Charlie croons, hoisting up her latest cup of glögg. “Let it continue until the man in red gets stuck in a chimney.”
“Maybe it should continue with less glögg,” Lars jokes as he takes her gloved hand.
“I need all the glögg I can get,” Nico mutters.
We head down to the town square, talking, and a warm glow forms in my chest, because everyone’s getting along so well. There isn’t even much awkwardness over the situation with Aria. Charlie told me that Enzo pulled Lars aside earlier, assured him that the threat of death had passed, and said he hoped they could be friends.
Enzo did it for me, obviously.
He’s doing all of this for me, but he seems to be enjoying himself too.
It’s given me the kind of happiness I’m not used to—simple, uncomplicated, and deep. I feeljoyful.
