Page 65 of Fa-La La-La Land
“You sure?” She stacks another box on top of the one already in my arms.
“Nah, yeah…unless you’re set on doing it yourself.”
“I don’t mind. Honestly, Rhys, Seb, me, and all of our cousins have climbed on that roof so many times, retrieving frisbees and balls, sometimes just because we were bored. It’sprobably safer for me to climb up there than for you.” She grabs a couple boxes of her own, and I follow her outside again.
“Your mom was okay with that?” I ask.
Stella cackles. “No way. You should have heard her yell at Grandpa in Italian when she found out he’d told Seb to go up there. She had no idea we’d both been scaling that roof for years.”
“So, you’ve always been fearless?” I spot Grandpa Sparks carrying a ladder around the side of the house, and disappointment washes over me. I want to hear more about Stella as a spunky little girl determined to keep up with her brother and the Thomsen boys.
“Fearless or stupid. You decide.”
“Definitely not stupid.”
She smiles over her shoulder at me, her brown eyes shining, and if I didn’t think Grandpa Sparks might pull a gun on me, I’d drop everything and kiss her right now.
“Hi, Grandpa. Thanks for bringing the ladder,” she calls before meeting him on the patio and setting her boxes down to kiss his cheek.
Mr. Sparks—Stella told me to call him Jim, but I’m not doing that—sets up the ladder against the house, then unzips his jacket and pulls ropes and a metal thing from the front of his overalls. Not out of a pocket—literally he pulls them out of his overalls like a magician pulling scarves from his sleeves.
“Gia said you were putting up the Santa. You sure this young man knows how to work my pulley?”
“We’ll be fine, Grandpa,” Stella says.
He turns his steely gray eyes on me, and I want to agree with her. I want to show this man’s man I’m not afraid to get on a steep roof and use a pulley system. I want to assure him that I know what a pulley system is.
But the look on his face stops me. He’s giving off human lie detector vibes, and I’m afraid he’ll grab me by my collar and throw me out of town, like a sheriff in an old Western tossing a drunk out of a saloon.
“Never used a pulley in my life, sir,” I say.
“Have you opened a blind or a garage door?” he grumbles.
I nod.
“Then you’ve used a pulley.”
“Yes, sir. Didn’t realize that’s what a pulley is, but I reckon I do now.”
Ireckona pulley’s what my techs use to get me off the ground and fly me over the audience—and that I’ve made an arse of myself. Judging by his glare, Ireckonif he knew what a man like me, who just learned what a pulley is, was thinking about his granddaughter a few minutes ago, I’d be a dead man.
Stella winds her arms protectively around mine, which is sweet but doesn’t do me any favors with General Sparks. “Be nice, Grandpa. He’s a city boy.”
The general scoffs. “That’s what I was afraid of.”
Stella laughs, but I stay at attention. I’ve never been in the military, but I’ve seen enough movies to know what happens when a cadet gets out of line. I don’t move until Stella tugs my arm, but from that point on, Grandpa takes over all assembly and positioning of the inflatables, barking out orders that I jump to follow.
I know I don’t have to, but this isn’t just Stella’s grandpa; this is the man who helped raise her. He’s the closest thing she has to a dad, and I want to make a good impression. If it’s not too late.
Stella is a lot more casual in following her grandpa’s orders, sending me conspiratorial smiles and the occasional good-natured eyeroll whenever Mr. Sparks tells us what to do next.But when he picks up the pulley ropes and walks to the ladder, she scrambles to block him.
“Grandpa, you know I’ll never hear the end of it from Granny if I let you go up on that roof.” She stands in front of the ladder, mirroring his stubborn face.
With a low, rumbling growl I can’t help but admire, he moves aside.
She reaches for the pulley, but he holds it out of her reach. “You’re not going up there. No lady is risking her life while an able-bodied man is standing here.”
He looks over his shoulder, and I look over mine, then realize he’s talking about me. I pull my shoulders back, eye the ladder—which is very tall—and glance at Stella. “He’s right. I’ll do it.”
