His Holiday Crush - Cari Z. Page 0,58
sidewalk in front of every person’s home is their own responsibility, legally speaking,” Lauren said, handling it like the pro she was—and because I was currently holding a hot cup of ginger-chamomile tea for Evelyn, who looked fairly comfortable with two pillows under her head and a blanket. “Technically, if anyone is liable for damages here, it’s you.”
“I…what…my own mother isn’t going to sue me,” the woman blustered. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Darlene, nobody’s getting sued here,” Evelyn informed her daughter. “Now stop having fits and get back in there to check the ham. I might not get to eat it, but I’ll be damned if any ham I bake is going to burn because I tried to catch the pavement with my butt.”
I stifled a grin. Not a day went by without running into some Edgewood drama or neighborhood silliness, but it kept things lively, and I wouldn’t change it for anything.
We kept busy until about three, when all of a sudden the calls dried up and we were left twiddling our thumbs in the station. “You should head out,” I told Lauren when I caught her looking at her phone for the second time in under a minute. “I’ve got this.”
“Are you sure? I said I’d stay until four and I meant it.”
“You’ve got to go get the head wisewoman ready for her stage debut. It’s fine.”
“Thank you,” she said as she stood, her voice full of gratitude, probably more than I’d earned, to be honest. “Jimmy can handle almost all of the preparations, but little things like the buttons on the back of her costume are still a bit beyond his motor control, and God forbid Pippa ask one of her siblings to help her out. That would be like starting World War Three.”
“Go on. Maybe I’ll see you at the play tonight.”
She nodded. “I hope so.” After a second’s hesitation, she walked over and hugged me. It was a good hug, warm and tight, and I breathed out and held her back, quiet and thankful. “Have a merry Christmas, Nicky.”
“Have a merry Christmas, Lauren.” I patted her shoulders as we released each other. “Tell Jimmy hi for me.”
“I will.” She winked. “Tell Maxfield hi for me, too.”
“I won’t, because I don’t want to get beat,” I replied. She laughed and walked out, and I pulled out my phone to see if there were any new messages. Nothing. Maybe I was getting spoiled, thinking that Max had nothing better to do than send me cute texts. He was watching the girls, of course he had a zillion things to do, and if they were going to eat an early dinner and get to the play on time then he was probably—
My phone buzzed with an incoming message from Max. Perfect timing. I opened it instantly—hell, I already had the message app open—and read, I didn’t know picking out dresses for a play was such an involved process.
I snorted a laugh and leaned back in my chair. It’s that show they watch. The older bunny is a diva about her clothes, so Marnie likes to be a diva, too.
She says there has to be a matching tiara. And gloves. Elbow-length gloves. Does she have gloves like that?
Her mom does. I paused before I sent it, wondering whether it was worth the hassle he might get for reminding the girls about Ariel right now, but finally pressed send and followed it up with, I think there’s a box of stuff like that in Hal’s closet, by the rest of Ariel’s shoes.
I didn’t get a reply for almost five minutes, and by the time it came in, I was practically pacing the floors. It was a picture this time, of Marnie and Steph grinning into the camera while holding up their gloved fingers. Marnie’s were blue, Steph’s were pink, both were obviously too big, and clearly neither girl cared. Marnie had her Frozen tiara and her Elsa dress on, and Steph was in a rainbow-colored tutu. Beautiful, I sent, and I meant every syllable of it.
Thanks for the advice, Uncle Nicky ;)
Aw, a winking smiley face. Shit, when had I become the sort of person to appreciate a freaking winky face? Another text came in while I pondered the fact that I might, just might, be head-over-heels for Max. We’re about to have dinner. I’ll let you know when we head to the church. Hope we see you there.
I hope so, too, I sent back. Miss you, I added before I could second-guess