“Can I tell you something?” Elda, who’d been dancing through the streets earlier, seemingly unaffected by the cold, pulled her cape tighter around her arms. “You have to promise not to tell anyone, though.”
They passed someone’s front lawn, which had been decorated with a gang of motorcycle-riding blowup characters—Santa and Snoopy and Frosty and a whole bunch of others. “I promise. Of course I won’t tell.”
Elda linked her arm in Holly’s. “It’s not just the guy stuff that’s got me down. I’m dropping out of school.”
Holly’s feet stopped moving, yanking Elda to a stop. “What?” Holly said.
The cousins faced each other on the sidewalk. “College isn’t for me. I got there and was just like, ‘I don’t want this. I’m not meant to sit in a classroom.’ Is that ridiculous?”
This conversation gave Holly whiplash. They’d gone from Danny Garland to school in a matter of seconds. “I…I don’t know what to say.” Everyone went to college. At least everyone Holly knew. Her parents expected her to go, and same with all her friends’ parents. That was non-negotiable. And Elda was giving up after only one semester. “What do you plan on doing instead?”
Elda frowned. “I don’t know. I’ve been waiting to tell my parents until after this trip, because they have so much on their minds, but they’re going to murder me. I thought I’d have everything figured out by now, so I could go to Mom and Dad and be like, ‘Here’s what I want to do with my life. Here’s my plan,’ but I’ve got nothing.” She held out her empty hands.
“Wow.” This wasn’t completely off-brand for her. When they were kids, Elda was always jumping from potential career to potential career—a police officer, a cosmetologist, a dermatologist, a circus performer. Even in the short time since the two of them had gotten closer, Holly had witnessed some of this flightiness. She constantly changed her mind about things—about where to go on spring break or whether or not to dye her hair or what to have for dinner. But leaving college without a plan—that had more repercussions than whether to order Mexican or Chinese.
“You think it’s a bad idea,” Elda said.
“No…”
“Yes, you do.” Elda dropped her head to her hands.
Holly rubbed her cousin’s back. “I’m only wondering whether or not you’ve thought this through.”
“I don’t know.” She lifted her head. “But I know college is what I don’t want, so isn’t that enough?”
“Maybe…” Holly was usually so focused on being responsible and doing the right, safe, consequence-free thing that “want” or “not want” never entered the equation.
Elda put an arm around Holly, wrapping her in velvet and their grandmother’s old lady perfume. “But let’s not think about that now. Let’s talk about how the two of us are going to use our superpowers of seduction on Danny Garland.”
This felt like a “want” or “not want” situation all of a sudden. Holly wanted Danny, that was for sure. But he kept checking out Elda, and he’d directed his invitation to hang out right at her.
The thing was, the Danny of Holly’s imagination couldn’t hold a candle to Danny in real life. He was whatever the opposite of a Monet was. Danny was lovely from afar, but exquisite up close. His skin looked like it had been airbrushed. His lips revealed not even a hint of dryness. And he was nice, too. And funny, damn it. And smart. He’d had the world “philtrum” on the tip of his tongue.
When it came right down to it, what Holly really wanted was to be able to see Danny and talk to him. Helping Elda would achieve that. Holly would get to chat with him a bit and hang out. She’d be able to leave North Pole with some great, fun memories. She was only going to be here for two more weeks. It wasn’t like she and Danny were ever, in any universe, going to end up together.
She rested her head on Elda’s shoulders. “First of all, my sweet coz, less is more. If you feel the need to say something, say nothing. I’ll fill in the conversation gaps. You create mystery. Trust me. You and Danny will be madly in love by Christmas Eve.” Holly smiled, though that thought had left a sour pit in her stomach.
Chapter Five
Sunday, December 17
“Welcome, everyone, to the start of this year’s gingerbread contest!”
Danny only half-heard Mayor Sandoval’s announcement. He was too busy making drinks behind the counter. It was North Pole tradition for different stores to host each event in the gingerbread competition, and Danny’s mom had offered to arrange the launch, which meant all hands were on deck. Brian and Jamison, one of the Santabucks baristas, were taking orders. Danny and his mom were making drinks. Some of the newer employees were working the floor. It still wasn’t enough. The place was packed.
He’d perched behind the espresso machine on a stool, with a chair to keep his leg elevated. He and his mom had figured out quite the system. He made the drinks. She fetched stuff from the fridge and kept the counter stocked. By the time the mayor started talking, almost everyone had gotten their beverages and had settled into their seats.
Star and Phil were at a two-person table near the door. She’d acknowledged Danny with a curt nod and blushed sheepishly as she rattled off her order to Jamison. Star had wanted her usual non-fat, sugar-free vanilla latte, but Danny had “accidentally” given her the full-sugar syrup. Never cheat on the guy who makes your coffee.
The Page girls had come in as well; they sat at a table near the counter. Holly faced away from Danny, arms crossed over her bright red sweater. She’d barely looked at him when she’d come in, but Elda had waved cheerily and kept sneaking glances at Danny every few seconds. Just to see what would happen, Danny shot her a wave from behind the espresso machine, and Elda beamed as if no guy had ever looked her way before. Wow, okay. Maybe he wasn’t a complete disaster around women.
His mom nudged him in the side. “What’s up with the big smile, Dan?”
“Nothing, Mom. Ugh.” She could be so embarrassing.
“As most of you know,” the mayor said, “the gingerbread contest is in three parts. Round one is decorating gingerbread people, round two is building and decorating a traditional gingerbread house on site, and round three is the showstopper, which is to be built over the next week and brought to the town hall on Christmas Eve, the final day of the competition.”
Despite his initial reservations about entering the contest and his usual aversion to anything Christmassy, Danny had stayed up most of last night thinking about his showstopper. He’d always been the king of the third round, but it had been eight years since he’d last entered the contest. He hadn’t even eaten gingerbread since then. Still, he planned on going big for the final round. He’d build a gingerbread replica of a basketball court, complete with gingerbread players. He’d tile the floor in gingerbread glazed with sugar syrup and build the bench and stands. If it turned out half as good as it looked in his imagination, he might have a shot at another blue ribbon.