Holly reached past her cousin and pulled Elda’s pitiful cookie toward her. “Damn it!” she said out loud, slapping herself on the forehead.
Danny glanced over at Holly’s outburst, and she held up Elda’s tragically decorated gingerbread person. “I’m hopeless.” She slumped her shoulders and pouted.
“At least you’ve got Elda on your team,” he said.
Holly patted Elda’s shoulder. “Thank goodness.”
She bent over the cookie and started wiping off Elda’s piping work while Elda started another cookie.
“Thank you.” Elda hovered close, talking through her teeth like a ventriloquist. She gave Holly’s wrist a quick squeeze.
“No problem.” Holly patted Elda’s hand. “Like Danny said, we’re a team. You do what you can. I’ll work as fast as humanly possible.” Holly was going to have to decorate all twenty-four. There was no way around it.
She craned her neck to see Danny’s work. His piping was perfect, and he was already on cookie number two. This was the kid she remembered. This guy was precision personified. Despite the sinking feeling in her gut that she and Elda were going to completely bomb the first round, she couldn’t help smiling. Maybe he was a total fox now, but he was still a gingerbread dork at heart.
Holly and Elda tacitly worked out a system. Elda would slowly, methodically work on one cookie, doing her absolute best, and Holly’d rush through the rest of them. It was their only hope.
“Hey,” Danny whispered from the table next to them.
“We’re working,” Holly said. She clumsily shot a clump of frosting onto Elda’s sleeve for good measure while he was watching, then she grabbed a wet towel to wipe it off.
“I know. I wanted to say I watched that documentary you told me about last night.” Danny smiled at Elda.
Holly’s stomach dropped to her knees. Shoot. The documentary.
After Danny had left yesterday and Elda had returned to the garage, the girls talked about the whole Danny situation. He’d just sent Elda another message restating how much he loved the candy bars. “You need to keep helping me with him,” Elda had said. “If it hadn’t been for you, I never would’ve known about the Take 5 bars. Now he thinks I’m, like, this incredibly thoughtful girl.”
“Well, you are,” Holly said. “And you’d totally have bought him those candy bars on your own if you’d known they were his favorites.”
Elda narrowed her eyes. “Yeah, probably.”
“Definitely.”
“I think he actually likes me.” All the blood had drained from Elda’s face.
“Which is the point of all this.” Holly’d pulled out her sketch pad and started working. She had a showstopper to build.
“Right,” Elda had said. “But Danny likes me because of something you did. What if we go out and he’s totally bored with me?”
“You could never be boring,” Holly’d said. “Give yourself a little credit. But if you want me to keep chatting him up for you, I will.” Holly loved the rush of seeing how grateful Danny had been for the kindness. He deserved someone good and sweet and awesome, someone like Elda. Holly was more than happy to choke down her own feelings for that.
So she and Elda had hopped on the phone with Danny again last night. The girls had made an evening of it—eating popcorn on their pull out couch in the attic, while Holly’s thumbs did the talking and Elda brushed makeup all over Holly’s face. Danny and the girls texted back and forth about all kinds of things—from North Pole gossip to how they were never going to watch Game of Thrones because it was too popular.
Elda had screwed the cap back on her mascara and passed Holly a hand mirror. “But I like Game of Thrones!”
“No, you don’t.” Holly grimaced at her reflection. Elda hadn’t done beauty makeup, like Holly had assumed. Her face was covered in bruises and scars. “Not liking Game of Thrones is better, more interesting.”
Elda shrugged. “You know best.” That was when Elda had traipsed downstairs to play hide-and-seek with Aunt Vixi’s kids.
Danny filled Holly in on everything from who was hooking up with whom in town to the drama between her grandma and the town’s baker, Nancy—both of them liked Frank from the hardware store. Frank was a player! Holly had told Danny to check out a Netflix documentary about the Mitford sisters from the book she was reading.
And she’d forgotten to tell Elda to study up on the rest of their conversation.
“Totally fascinating.” Danny was on his sixth gingerbread person by now. “You were right. I did some digging on the Mitford sisters last night. Who do you think was the worst one?”
Elda would not have an answer for this question. She knew nothing about the Mitfords.
Holly broke off the head of her current gingerbread figure on purpose, to create a diversion. “Oh, no!” she cried.
“What happened?” Danny craned his neck to see their station.
“One of our cookies broke.” Elda held up the headless cookie to show Danny. She patted Holly on the shoulder. “It’s okay. We’ll get a new one.” She turned back to Danny. “And obviously Diana was the worst sister.”
Good save, Elda. Though she should’ve spoken up before Holly went and destroyed one of their cookies.
Elda, still taking charge, raised her hand and caught the attention of the mayor. “One of our cookies broke.” She put on a pouty face that had probably gotten her out of many a traffic ticket.
The mayor shook his head. “Sorry, ladies. Twelve cookies each. That’s all you get. Make sure the ones you have left are perfect.”
“Shit,” Holly said. She never would’ve sabotaged a cookie if she had known.
“I’ll give you one of mine.”
Both girls’ heads swiveled over to the table on their other side, the not-Danny side. Dinesh was there, still in his arcade uniform. He brushed an errant black curl off his forehead and handed Elda a clean cookie. “I’m going to lose anyway,” he said with a wink.
“You’re our hero, Dinesh,” Elda said, and he waved her off, turning his attention back to his remaining eleven cookies. “That was super nice,” Elda whispered to Holly. “Maybe you should go out with him. He could be the fourth in our double date.”
Shrugging, Holly focused on her current cookie. Dinesh was cool. He’d come to her rescue twice in the past two days. But he’d given up one of his gingerbread figures to help his rival. He didn’t care about the competition. Danny hadn’t offered the girls one of his cookies—he’d probably never even considered giving them one of his cookies—because he knew what it took to win, and he understood that all was fair in love and gingerbread. Holly respected his competitive spirit. Still, “Dinesh is better than that Brian guy for sure. Set it up.”
Elda squeezed Holly’s wrist. “I’m on it.”
Holly peeked over at Danny, who was piping a delicate pattern on one cookie’s tummy. “Tell him you like his filigree technique.”
“What?” Elda whispered.
“Just do it. He’ll eat it up.”
Elda skirted around Holly so she was on Danny’s side again. “Your filigree technique is really something.”
Grinning, Danny held up the cookie he was currently working on. “You think?”
Elda nodded. “Super good. Very nice.” Holly was fairly certain Elda had no idea what she was talking about. Actually, “fairly certain” was an understatement.
“Thanks.” Danny’s whole face lit up as his eyes met Elda’s. Holly had to look away as the two of them exchanged goo-goo eyes. She turned toward Dinesh instead, whom she caught also staring at Elda, because of course he was. Groaning, Holly pulled yet another gingerbread figure toward her and started piping.
This was what she’d signed up for. She repeated it in her head like a mantra.
Chapter Seven
DANNY: OMG Craig’s cookies.
ELDA: I didn’t see. What? Were they good?
DANNY: They were the Starks.
ELDA: (gif of Jon Snow frowning amidst a bli
zzard)
ELDA: Of course he’d do Game of Thrones cookies.
DANNY: (gif of priestess ringing the “Shame” bell)
ELDA: For two people who hate Game of Thrones, we sure have a lot of gifs at the ready.
DANNY: Something to think about. Ask not for whom the SHAME bell tolls, it tolls for we!
ELDA: (crying laughing emoji X 10)
Chapter Eight
At the end of the first round, the mayor and two other judges took their time surveying each team’s gingerbread cookie entries. Danny’s heart was in his throat as the three jury members swanned around the Joyeaux Noel dining room. He’d done well; he was positive of that. Danny had been worried about his rusty piping skills, but today’s competition was like riding a bike. His filigree technique was on point, and Elda had noticed.
The room was full of talented decorators, like Tinka Foster. She was Nancy Gold’s assistant at the bakery, and sweet stuff was her whole life. Her piping was perfectly straight and uniform, as if every decorative line had been produced by a machine. Craig wasn’t the most talented piper, necessarily; but what he lacked in raw skill, he made up for in creativity.
And then there were the Page girls. Elda possessed the perfect mix of talent and artistry. Each cookie she decorated had a unique little flourish, like different hairstyles or argyle sweaters. Not only that, she had to decorate all twenty-four cookies herself, because Holly was not up to the task, what with breaking the head off of one cookie and glopping on her frosting with the finesse of an elephant on roller skates.
But Holly had impressed Danny, too, in a way. He couldn’t see her work from where he was sitting during the competition, but he could tell she’d been pushing hard, trying her best not to let Elda down. That took guts to stand next to her more talented cousin and try her best, even though her best was, honestly, pretty terrible.
He glanced over at Elda, who was still standing behind their table, talking to Dinesh, while Holly had flitted off somewhere.
Elda was definitely gorgeous. She was, as Brian was quick to point out, one of the most beautiful girls who’d ever stepped foot in North Pole. And she liked him. She was smart and well-read. She liked history and architecture.
Elda was obviously the perfect girl for him. If someone were to ask Danny to make a list of the most important traits he’d want in a girlfriend, they’d all add up to Elda. The two of them just needed the chance to spend some time alone, without the distraction of Holly.
The room buzzed with life as the other contestants, their friends and families, and the gaggle of tourists who lined the walls chatted and laughed while the judges made their way around the room. When the trio of judges stopped at Danny’s table to evaluate his work, he held his breath, scared to look at them. Giving nothing away, the mayor and his judge buddies whispered “Mmm-hmms” and “Uh-huhs” as they lifted up each cookie and examined Danny’s piping. A few moments later, they’d moved on to Elda’s table, and Danny finally exhaled.
Elda, totally poised and cheerful, smiled at the judges as they came over. She shook their hands and greeted them with a warm hello. From his spot against the wall, Elda’s brother Sal clapped like a trained seal. “Team Page!” he shouted. Elda chuckled.
Danny had to do something nice for her, to thank her for the Take 5 bars.
The perfect idea came to him like a million little Christmas lights blinking on; even though the judging for this round wasn’t over yet, Danny considered bolting straight out of the restaurant and running home as fast as his crutches could carry him.
About a year ago, Elda’s grandmother had given Danny an old, tattered book on architecture, specifically famous Midwestern buildings, since she knew Danny had an interest in the subject. She’d told him then that one of her granddaughters was also well-versed in the subject, which was probably why she’d been so good at the gingerbread contest.
Danny still had the book, along with some other magazines she’d given him over the years. He’d return them to Elda today, accompanied by a romantic invite—he’d buy tickets for the North Pole architecture tour. It’d be the perfect first date.
He glanced over at Elda again. The judges had left her table by now, and she was back to chatting with Dinesh. The two of them were laughing about something. A sour feeling settled in Danny’s stomach. Anxiety, that’s all this was. Giddy nerves and excitement manifesting themselves as sickness. He was about to ask out his dream girl. It was a very good thing, no matter what his gut was trying to tell him.
The mayor and the other judges went to the middle of the floor, and everyone around the room stood up straighter as the mayor started speaking. “We saw so many delicious looking gingerbread people on these tables today. The spirit of Christmas, as always, is alive and well in North Pole.” The mayor’s eyes twinkled as he surveyed the room. “But enough sappiness. Let’s get to the scores.” He glanced down at the paper in his hands. “In third place so far, Ms. Tinka Foster.”
Tinka jumped up and down, squealing, as Sam tried to wrap her in a hug. Tinka was off to a good start. Their scores in this round carried over into the second and third.
Danny’s palms were sweating. He’d never lost this round before. Never ever. Ever.
“In second place,” the mayor said, “Elda and Holly Page. Your grandma would be proud.”
Elda high-fived Dinesh at the table next to her, and Danny’s eyes swooped around the room, instinctively hunting for Holly. She was standing over by the punch bowl, ladling herself a cup of eggnog. She glanced up as if she felt Danny’s eyes on her. She didn’t smile. In fact, she scowled and looked away.
The sickening dread in his stomach was gone, replaced by tingly excitement and disappointment. He hated that she looked at him with such distaste, like she didn’t think he was good enough for Elda or something, like she saw right through him and was completely disenchanted. He desperately wanted to change her mind.
Mayor Sandoval continued, “In first place is…ho, ho, ho! Danny Garland, the comeback kid!”
The crowd cheered loudly for him as Danny accepted a certificate of achievement from the mayor. This gingerbread contest was supposed to be the thing that fixed all his problems, but all he felt was numb.
…
Holly rubbed her temples. “Okay. Maybe we should put this on hold and practice the gingerbread houses instead.” She plucked her pencil and sketch pad out of Elda’s hands and tossed them aside. Elda really, really, really wanted to help Holly with their sketches for the showstopper, but—and it pained Holly to even think this—Elda sucked at gingerbread. Not only had she been awful while piping the frosting earlier today during round one, but she didn’t appear to have an artistic bone in her body. She kept trying to add different ornaments to the sketches that’d completely throw off the balance of the entire showstopper.
Elda popped yet another gumdrop into her mouth, even though Holly had asked her repeatedly to stop eating all their candy. They’d already lost three bags of Skittles to Aunt Vixi’s kids, who had not been deterred by Holly’s threatening note. “This gingerbread thing is hard work, huh?”
Yes, yes, it was, but that was news to Elda. Holly’d started building gingerbread houses when she was in preschool, and she kept making them even after her family stopped coming to North Pole for Christmas. Getting a bunch of cookies to stand upright while loaded down with candy and frosting took skill and practice.
But Holly had to stop holding the fact that Elda was a novice against her. Elda had always been the one to keep the team fed and hydrated. She may not have helped on the actual showstopper, but she provided a valuable service. She was and always had been, as far as Holly was concerned, an integral part of the team. Holly had to keep reminding herself of that.
“We’ll worry about the showstopper later. For now we need to concentrate on round two.” Holly opened up one of the gingerbread house kits Elda had found at a grocery store, complete with some bastardization of royal icing. Holly grabbed scissors and opened it
anyway. “If you can learn to make a gingerbread house stand using this garbage, you’ll have no trouble making one stand tomorrow during the competition using the real stuff.”
The girls stood at their worktable, trying to erect a house on a tiny bit of cardboard using store-bought gingerbread and icing. Holly showed Elda how to make a base of royal icing to help the walls hold, and how to line them up at perfect angles. “Basically, our goal is twofold,” Holly said, her sticky frosting-covered hands holding two walls upright as the icing dried. “Make sure the thing stays standing, and make it look pretty. Both elements count for a lot. As long as it stays up, we won’t get docked too badly for, like, frosting seeping out the cracks or whatever. And if we can decorate it nicely, that goes a long way, too.”
Elda spread more frosting along the crack between the two walls. “Thank you for helping me.”
“Of course,” Holly said.
“I mean, with this, but also with Danny. I think it’s working.” Elda furrowed her brow as she held the walls together in some approximation of a right angle. “Danny said he’s going to stop by soon.”
“Ooh.” Holly tried hard to feign excitement. She’d known the score going in—Holly would do the work, but Elda would reap the benefits. And the benefits were considerable. Danny Garland was a beautiful, sweet, smart boy, and Holly’s crush on him had only gotten bigger.
“I talked you up to Dinesh today,” Elda said.
“Mmm-hmm.” Holly never should’ve given Elda the okay on that. She didn’t want Dinesh. She didn’t want anyone here in North Pole except Danny. It wouldn’t be fair to Dinesh for her to agree to go out with him when she definitely wasn’t interested.
“He seemed kind of into it,” Elda said.
Sure, kind of. And that was the other thing. Dinesh didn’t like Holly; that much was obvious. He, like Danny and most other people who were attracted to girls, liked Elda. If Dinesh had in any way indicated that he’d be interested in dating Holly, it was probably only as a way to spend time with Elda. “You know what? I’m good,” Holly said. “Maybe we should nix the whole double date idea. I don’t need you to set me up.”
Approximately Yours (North Pole, Minnesota) Page 8
