Page 3 of We Wish You a Messy Christmas

“Yeah, I know. But it’s not on the shrubbery or hurting anything. Not that you should care since you’ve been nagging me to clear out that juniper anyway.”

“Not like that.” She frowned. “And what if I need to get my car out of the garage? I’m totally blocked in.”

“You said you didn’t feel well and didn’t plan on going anywhere today. Including Cindy’s birthday party.” He held the bag up. “I was about to go.”

“You are actually going over there?”

“Why not? Erik invited us last week. And they’re our neighbors. And they’re good people.”

“They’re a train wreck.”

His mouth twisted to one side. “We’re all entitled to our opinions. And we’ve agreed to disagree on this.” He gave her his warning look, a signal that he was done with this conversation. “And no worries, Jane, I made your excuses this morning. Not that Erik believed it when I said you have a headache.”

Jane touched her forehead. “Maybe I didn’t have one then, but I’m getting one now.” She stared at the cheerful bag he’d obviously snuck from her crafting room. “What’s in there?”

“Just something for Cindy’s birthday.”

She stepped closer, trying to peer into the bag. “What is it?”

He sheepishly removed a chunky coffee mug in garish colors, turning it toward her so she could see the words. “Found it at that little doodad shop next door to my office.”

“‘May your coffee kick in before reality does,’” she read aloud, then grimly shook her head. “I wish reality would kick in—and maybe kick her right in the—”

“Jane,” he chided, “that’s no way to love thy neighbor. And on her birthday too.”

She closed her eyes and blew out a sigh. “I know, I know. I’m a terrible Christian. But can I help it if Cindy McEntire drives me absolutely nuts? I honestly thought with their menagerie of kids all grown, their house would quiet down some. But now that they’re getting married and bearing offspring, that place is a three-ring circus.”

“A circus is a happy place.” He attempted a smile.

“Not if the wild lions and tigers roam freely and do their business on your front lawn.”

“Oh, Jane.” He tucked the mug back in the bag, shoving some tissue paper on top. “Sure you don’t want to go over there with me and wish her happy birthday? Erik said Jocelyn made carrot cake.”

“No, thank you very much.”

With a glum expression, he reached for his fleece jacket that was hanging on the antique hall tree by the front door, probably still dripping wet from when he went out earlier in the rain. How many times had she told him to hang wet things in the laundry room?

“I’ll share your regards with Cindy,” he said.

“Don’t bother. I’m sure she wouldn’t believe you anyway.”

“Sure she would. Cindy has a very gracious spirit.”

“You mean unlike some people,” she said sharply.

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t need to.” She felt guilty now. Why was she such a wet blanket? “I’m sorry, Rob. I don’t mean to be so negative. But all those cars and those soggy birthday decorations, well, I guess they just put me on edge.”

“They’ll be gone soon enough. I’ll help Erik take them down.”

“Yeah, then they’ll be replaced with their usual tacky Christmas decorations. I’m surprised they’re not already up.” She felt a twinge of hope. “Maybe they’ll back off this year.”

“Erik said they both were down with the flu right after Thanksgiving.” He reached for the door.

“Probably one of their lovely grandchildren shared a bug with them,” she said. “You be careful over there, Rob. It might still be going around.” She followed him to the door. “And be sure to wash your hands. And for heaven’s sake, don’t eat anything. I’ve been in that woman’s kitchen.”

He just laughed. “Yeah, yeah, you’ve mentioned that before. But everyone knows you’re a germaphobe, Jane. No one’s housekeeping will ever measure up to yours.” He pecked her on the cheek. “Have a nice afternoon.”