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“I wasn’t mean to your damn cat,” Liam hollered from the living room.
“Is selective hearing something that comes with age? Or is it a personal choice?”
“Less talking, more scrubbing.”
Declan chuckled, using a wooden spoon to scoop out the charred remains of mac and cheese from the pot and dumping them in the trash. While he filled the pot with water and soap to soak, he scrubbed the remaining dishes and placed them in the dish rack, staring out the window at the beautiful sunny day. He noticed movement through the trees and watched as a giant red hat grew, waving at him from a distance, and he frowned.
It’s started already, he thought.
With a town called Mistletoe, it made sense that the holiday season would be a big deal, but the citizens and city council took it to the extreme. There were competitions for everything. Window displays. House displays. Parade floats. Besides the bragging rights of having the best in whatever category, the winners won a thousand-dollar cash prize. Declan thought they were all overindulgent cries of “Look at me!” Especially Evergreen Circle.
During the holidays, the displays at Evergreen Circle lit up the town for miles from the second weekend in December until New Year’s Eve, a beacon of holiday cheer Declan wished some days he could shut down completely. He had managed to petition the city to shorten the length of time the circle could function from six weeks to three, citing the miles of cars lined up every evening, jamming up the road and keeping the nearby neighbors trapped in their homes until ten when the lights shut off as a nuisance. The city council agreed to the terms, so he had another two weeks of peace before chaos ensued.
Declan’s phone rang, and he wiped off his wet hands on his pants legs to pull it out of his pocket. He stared at his mother’s smiling face and stiffened. He hadn’t spoken to her in weeks and the last text he got from her was a picture of Diana Gallagher on a beach with the caption Wish you were here.
He’d call her on his way to work tomorrow. Declan didn’t want to hear the snarky comments from his dad if he talked to her now. While he might be angry with his mom for ditching them, he still loved her.
Sometimes he thought his dad still loved her too. His parents had been high school sweethearts who’d broken up and married other people in their twenties, and after those relationships failed, reconnected in their thirties. Neither of them had other children with their previous partners, and after six years together they didn’t expect it to happen for them. He’d been a miracle baby, making an appearance a few months after his mother’s fortieth birthday. His childhood had been filled with warm, fond memories of his mother, especially at this time of year. She’d bake for weeks, making tins of treats for all the neighbors and the Christmas events for the town. She loved the holidays with all her heart and was always singing those silly songs about Frosty and Rudolph.
While his father worked ten-hour days keeping the store open, Declan noticed the changes between them in his teen years. The silent dinners, unless they were speaking directly to him. After football practice when he’d catch his mother crying and she’d blame it on the onions she was cutting. He knew his parents were unhappy, but when he’d ask either one about it, his father would answer him brusquely and his mother would change the subject.
It wasn’t until after his high school graduation, when he was getting ready to leave for college in Maryland, that they’d sat him down and told him they were divorcing. His mom did most of the talking, telling him that they wanted to wait until he had graduated before they separated, but it was a long time coming and it wasn’t anything he did. Through it all his father sat there stoic and strong, except for his eyes. Declan had seen the sheen in his hazel eyes and knew his father didn’t want this. It was all her.
While his mother had taken off to explore the world, his father had stayed to keep the store going, making sure Declan’s tuition was paid, but he constantly complained about the overindulgence of the people of Mistletoe, the wasted time and money on the town events. The first year he’d come back to Mistletoe for his holiday break, his dad griped about everything, from the displays on Evergreen that jammed up traffic to the expense and commercialism. And people came up to Declan at every turn asking about his mom, telling him how much they missed her cookies or her voice in the local Christmas caroling group, and anger twisted in his gut like a serpent. His dad had served Mistletoe at the hardware store since he was younger than Declan, but they didn’t care about him. Nobody did except Declan.
All they cared about was their cookies and their choir being off a soprano and their stupid, expensive holiday crap.
His mother continued her travels and sent him texts about her experiences. She sent an airline ticket to join her in Paris for Christmas his junior year, but he’d declined. She’d made the choice to split up their family and it wasn’t fair that his dad was alone.
With only the pot left in the sink, Declan leaned over and picked up Leo, wincing at the pinch in his back at the movement. The big tabby kneaded his paws against his shoulder and butted his head against his chin as Declan carried him into the living room, easing down onto the couch with a groan.
His dad glanced over and snorted. “You and that damn cat.”
Declan grinned, but the expression pulled at the skin of his eye. As if sensing his discomfort, Leo rolled across his chest, purring loudly as Declan rubbed the cat’s ears. “Says the man who likes to toss him raw chicken when he’s cooking.”
“Giving it to him keeps the raccoons out of our trash cans. It’s not because I like the scruffy critter.”
Declan didn’t believe that for a second, but didn’t call Liam out on it. He’d spotted Leo two years ago while doing some odd jobs on a farm outside town. The scrawny tabby was caught in a live trap the owner had set out to get rid of his neighbor’s overabundance of cats. Something about the skinny orange kitten tugged at Declan’s conscience, and he offered to take the kitten off the man’s hands. He said he didn’t care, and Declan learned a valuable lesson that day: Don’t ever drive around with a loose cat in the cab of your truck.
Declan rolled onto his side to avoid his bruised back and head, Leo curled up along his front as the movie’s opening credits played. The next thing he knew, his dad was standing over him, shaking Declan’s shoulder.
“What is it?” he asked groggily.
“You doing something at the store I should know about?”
Declan blinked up at his dad. “What are you talking about?”
“I just got a call from Barbara Weaver, head of the city council. She wanted to tell me how delighted she was with our holiday window display and to let us know we were one of the top contenders this year.”
“Display? Dad,” Declan paused, dragging himself into a sitting position and dislodging Leo from his place beside him. The tabby dropped to the floor with a disgruntled meow and Declan groaned as a wave of nausea assailed him. He was going to need to take more pain meds. “I don’t know what she’s talking about. I’ve had the same tools in the window since last fall.”
“She sent me a picture.” His dad turned the phone around to show a brightly lit display of gnomes standing outside little twig huts and frolicking in leaves. A sign traced with twinkling white lights read Rolling with my Gnomies.
Declan stared down at the picture, his eyes narrowing until his lashes blocked the view.
You’ve done it this time, Elf. Get ready for war.
CHAPTER 5
