Approximately Yours (North Pole, Minnesota)

by Hammerle, Julie

  “Home.” Elda raised her eyebrows. “She felt so bad about hurting you that she’s forfeiting the gingerbread contest.”

  His heart sped up. “What? No. She worked so hard—for herself and your grandma. She can’t just give up.”

  “That’s what I told her, but she wouldn’t listen to me.”

  Danny glanced at the clock. It was three-thirty. The competition was due to start in a half hour. His mom should be here at any minute to take over his shift, but Danny had to do something. Now. He couldn’t just let Holly give up. “Okay. Anybody have a car? Dinesh?”

  He shook his head. “Sorry, man.”

  “Shit.” He scanned the people passing by on the street. Danny was looking for something, divine intervention. They didn’t have time to walk to her grandma’s house and get back to the town hall. “You can run, right?” he asked Elda.

  “Better than you right now, probably.”

  “Touché.” He reached for his jacket under the counter. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. You run to the town hall. Tell my brother Brian to take his car, pick up Holly’s showstopper from her garage, and bring it to the competition as fast as he can. Then you stick around and stall the mayor for as long as possible—make something up.”

  Elda clapped. “Now this is a plan I can get behind.”

  “Dinesh,” Danny said, “I need you to stay here and watch the shop until my mom gets here in a few minutes.” He zipped up his hoodie. His body wanted to bolt, to run as fast as humanly possible over to Holly’s grandma’s house. A clock ticked in his head. They’d already wasted too much time, and he had a set of crutches slowing him down.

  “What are you going to do?” Dinesh asked as Elda bolted for the door.

  Danny pulled the hood over his head. “I’m going to get Holly, obviously.” As soon as he said it, he felt his lips pull into a grin.

  Dinesh shot him a thumbs-up, and Danny scurried out the door. He was finally going to “meet” his dream girl.

  …

  Holly turned off the TV as soon as her family left the house. She couldn’t find the remote, and she was not going to sit here in solitude and listen to Fox News talk about the war on Christmas. She flicked one of the metallic red balls on the tiny Christmas tree the family had set up on the coffee table in the living room. Christmas seemed to be doing just fine.

  She grabbed Grandma’s day planner and hauled it into the den off the kitchen. She took Grandma’s spot at the desk and opened the cover. Holly hadn’t spent as much time looking at this as she’d planned. She and Elda had done most of the things Grandma had scheduled for December, but it had become less about honoring her memory and more about just having fun in North Pole with Danny.

  Holly glanced over at Danny’s house. It was dark. She checked the cuckoo clock on the wall. Three-fifty. The gingerbread contest would start in ten minutes.

  She couldn’t blame Danny for not texting her back last night. She was an utter failure when it came to romance. Maybe someday she’d find someone who’d be able to deal with it, but today was not that day.

  After flipping through the music on her phone, Holly slipped on her headphones and turned the volume all the way up, losing herself in Taylor Swift’s own personal melodramas. TS was Holly’s go-to broken heart playlist. She thumbed through the pages in Grandma’s calendar. It was a symbol of the impermanence of life. Holly was only eighteen years old, and already she was being forced to say good-bye to her grandmother, this house, this town, and a perfect dream life she’d created in her mind.

  She’d cried about her grandmother after she died, of course; but in public, she’d always tell the story with a smile and detached pride about how Grandma died. “She was lying by the pool in California with a Moscow Mule in her hand. So badass.”

  It was badass. And it was awesome that her grandma didn’t suffer, that she’d lived a long life, that she’d stayed healthy and was able to enjoy life until her last day. But it so, so fucking sucked that Holly didn’t get to say good-bye. And it so, so, so fucking sucked that Holly was such a failure as a granddaughter, especially now that she knew her grandmother had been bragging about her to her friends and trying to set her up with the incredibly cute boy next door. Holly could’ve made the time to visit North Pole. She could’ve asked her grandma more questions about her life and her past. But she hadn’t. Not because she didn’t care, but because she’d gotten so used to cutting herself off from people. It had become such a habit that she even managed to cut off her grandma, one of her favorite people on the planet.

  Grandma should’ve died knowing for sure how much Holly cared about her. Holly should’ve told her. Now it was too late.

  And here she was, repeating the same mistakes, just on a smaller scale.

  She wasn’t silly enough to think that she and Danny Garland were meant-to-be or some nonsense, but, still, his existence had profoundly affected her life. He was the one, indirectly, who got her thinking about studying architecture as a career. Now that they were older, he was one of the few people on the planet who understood her, and who wanted to understand her. She’d screwed that up, as well.

  And now she was sitting here alone, blowing out her eardrums, avoiding Danny again. The final round of the competition was starting. A tear rolled down her cheek. He deserved to win again, and he deserved happiness. It was what she’d been trying to bring him all along.

  Resolved, she stood and pushed her grandma’s chair back in. She turned up the volume on one of Taylor Swift’s more powerful anthems, letting the music fill her. She’d go watch Danny win. She’d cheer him on and expect nothing in return, but she’d show him definitively how much he meant to her, how much she truly hoped he was happy. She couldn’t leave North Pole without him knowing.

  With the music still pumping, Holly pulled on a pair of shoes and a jacket and opened the front door. Danny Garland, mid-knock, nearly fell right into her arms.

  And Holly nearly fell into his. Her knees faltered, but she managed to step backward. She ripped off her headphones, and a ringing filled her ears. She could hear the blood pulsing through her body.

  “I’ve been knocking forever,” he said.

  Oh my God, was he cute. The two of them might never be this close again. He was leaning forward, his hands gripping the handles of his crutches, and he had a slightly crooked smile on his lips. His sky-blue eyes, however, betrayed his nervousness. Holly was pretty sure hers did, too.

  “I was listening to music.” She said that too loudly. Her ears were still recovering from Taylor Swift’s voice blasting against her brain.

  Danny was still smiling at her. He shouldn’t be smiling at her.

  She dragged her eyes away from his lips and focused on her grandma’s old mailbox off in the distance. “Danny, I’m sorry.”

  “I know.”

  “But I want to say it.” She still couldn’t look at him. This was uncharted territory for Holly Page.

  She took a deep breath. That was the old Holly. The new Holly told people how she felt no matter how scary it was. “You mean a lot to me, Danny. I know that’s weird, but I got into architecture because of you, because you made me up my game in the gingerbread contests. I studied math and angles and structure. I read books about architects and architecture. As a kid, I’d always loved drawing and sculpting and stuff, but it was because of you that I found the art in buildings.” Now she looked at him. Some unrecognizable emotion settled in his eyes. Old Holly would’ve written it off as confusion or revulsion, but new Holly saw it as something different—he was concentrating, listening. To her. “I just wanted to thank you for that.”

  He let that hang there for an agonizing beat, then he said, “I used to sit by my front window during Christmas break waiting for you to show up. I’d tell people I quit doing the gingerbread contest because I was too busy.” He rolled his eyes. “But it was really because you weren’t there. Why bother competing if my biggest rival wasn’t going to show up?”

  “I used to drea
m about coming back here. I had, like, intense daydreams that I’d show up in North Pole and you’d remember me and, well…happily ever after.” Holly sighed. “The first day Elda and I ran into you at Santabucks, it crushed me. We had this bizarre encounter; you had a girlfriend. But the worst part was, you didn’t even remember me.”

  Danny grinned. “I didn’t recognize you. But I did notice you.”

  “You did?” Holly’s heart sped up.

  “Oh my God, yeah.” His broad shoulders shook as he laughed. “Don’t you remember how awkward I was?”

  “But you kept looking at Elda.”

  “She had chocolate on her face. And she was talking about roadkill.”

  Holly laughed. Elda would be mortified.

  “And I kept looking at her, Holly, because I was trying not to look at you. I had a girlfriend at the time.”

  “Right.”

  He leaned closer on his crutches, and Holly shuffled forward slightly, closing the gap between them. “When I saw you at the dance the next night, I couldn’t stop thinking about how hot you were with your tattoo and your cute little scar. I wanted you, Holly, but you wanted nothing to do with me. I just got out of a relationship with another girl who didn’t like me. I didn’t want to make the same mistake again.”

  “It was self-preservation,” Holly said. “I was scared you’d reject me.”

  “I wouldn’t have rejected you.”

  He was so close now, leaning toward her, studying her face. She hadn’t been this close to a guy in, well, ever. She could physically feel that he wanted to kiss her. The tension in the air pulled the two of them together. Holly’s first instinct was to laugh and run. She didn’t know how to do this. How did kissing happen?

  “I’m under the mistletoe.” His eyes went to the ceiling above him.

  Holly looked up, too, and she laughed. It was this old sphere of wax mistletoe that her grandmother had always kept strung up on the porch “just to make things interesting.” Grandma had been gone a month, and she was still pushing Holly and Danny together.

  He smiled at her again, and Holly wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do. Her normal response would be to laugh it off, like “ha-ha, mistletoe is a joke,” a defensive reaction to avoid the embarrassment of the guy not wanting to kiss her. But Danny Garland had brought it up. He was standing under the mistletoe looking at her like she was Elda or somebody. Or, no. She had to stop thinking like that. Danny had never looked at Elda like this. He liked Holly. He wanted Holly.

  She could get defensive, run and hide, or do something about it.

  She stepped closer to him. “Is there any safe space in this town?” She tried not to think about her lips, or licking them, but they were absolutely the only thing on her mind.

  “Perils of living in a Christmas village. Mistletoe grows wild here,” he said.

  “How unfortunate.” They were so close now that Holly’s chest was about a millimeter from his. Holly’s blood pumped hard through her body, sending terror and excitement to every one of her fingers and toes. She was about to kiss Danny Garland. She willed her brain to stop thinking for just the tiniest moment. She leaned in and pressed her mouth against his.

  His lips turned her insides to liquid. She relaxed, trying to simultaneously turn off her brain and capture every single moment for posterity. Whatever happened next, she’d go home to Chicago and make many, many collages, sketches, and sculptures about this moment. Danny Garland kissing her.

  Danny whispered in her ear, the tip of his perfect nose tickling her skin. “Even better than I imagined.”

  “Same,” Holly whispered. She hugged him close, resting her head on the outside of his arm, gazing out at the view from her grandma’s porch, the mailbox, the familiar cars lining the street. The neighbors across the road had put out a gigantic Wonder Woman blow-up lawn ornament. She blinked a few times to make sure she was actually seeing what she thought she saw. Yes. Little white flakes danced in the light of the street lamps, which had just clicked on.

  She lifted her head from Danny’s shoulder. “Wow, Danny. We made it snow.”

  Chapter Twenty

  It was snowing, and Danny was kissing Holly.

  He didn’t believe in Christmas miracles, but kissing this girl under the mistletoe on Christmas Eve during the first snowfall of the year felt pretty close to one.

  Kissing Holly was a whole new thing. Danny had only ever kissed Star, and that had become routine. They knew each other’s moves, every step in the repertoire. When he and Star got together it was like a choreographed dance. They were a Vegas act that had been performing together so long, they could do the show practically half-asleep.

  He had to stay alert with Holly. She felt different in his arms. She was softer and shorter than Star. He felt powerful holding her and leaning down to touch her lips. His skin kept lighting up in different spots—this was new, this was exciting. This was euphoric.

  He leaned back and held Holly at arm’s length. “We have to get to the town hall.”

  “Right.” She grinned. “You’re about to be champion again.”

  “I don’t know. Craig’s gigantic Game of Thrones wall is pretty impressive.”

  Since it was snowing and they were already very, very late, Holly helped Danny load his crutches into the back of her family’s minivan. After she stuck the key in the ignition, she turned to him. “We kissed.” A smile was glued to her face. She tried to do that thing where her tongue played with her top lip, but her perma-grin prevented it.

  How could he have ever believed this girl didn’t like him, that she’d treat him like garbage? And why had he let himself believe that? She was only here for another week. He could’ve let her go forever without telling her how he felt. He could’ve gone his entire life without knowing what it was like to hold Holly Page in his arms. That was a terrifying thought. “Want to do it again?”

  She leaned closer to him, and their lips touched. They only gave in for a second, breathing each other’s air. “We really need to go.” Her mouth was still touching his when she said it. “I don’t want you to miss the blue-ribbon ceremony.”

  “Right.” Now he was wearing a perma-grin. She had no idea he’d had Brian pick up her showstopper. Holly could really win this thing. As much as Danny loved trophies, he wanted that for her. And for her grandmother.

  “So,” she said as she pulled away from the curb, “is it too soon to ask what now? I mean, we kissed. I’m leaving. What the hell are we doing?”

  He held out his hand, and she laced her fingers in his. Their hands belonged like this. They fit together perfectly. “Let’s take it slow, all right? Let’s not talk about what we are or aren’t. I’m holding Holly Page’s hand, and that’s enough right now.”

  Holly grabbed one of the employee parking spots right behind Santabucks, and they dashed down the street—as fast as Danny’s crutches could carry him. Holly threw open the door of the town hall, and the two of them hurried inside, where they were greeted by applause and cheering. Danny startled, glancing around, trying to figure out what was going on. Had he won the contest? Had Holly?

  But no. The crowd wasn’t cheering for them. Everyone was looking at a big screen in the back of the room, upon which was playing a slideshow of Holly’s grandmother. Elda motioned for the two of them to sit next to her, and they did.

  As the slides flew by behind him, the mayor stood up on the dais and said, “We lost one of our own this year, one of our most enthusiastic gingerbread competitors, Mrs. Dolores Page.”

  Everyone clapped.

  “Dolores embodied the spirit of North Pole. She was a great neighbor and a great citizen. She participated in every event—even the Stash Grab contest last year, where she won third place. Dolores loved her friends and her family. We’re so glad to have some of them here tonight.”

  Danny checked on Holly and Elda sitting next to him. The girls were holding hands, and a tear ran down Holly’s cheek. Danny, feeling inadequate for not having a tissue
or a handkerchief, handed Holly the scarf from around his neck. She smiled and dabbed at her face.

  “People come and go from this town all the time, and there are only a few constants, the real townies. This year we lost one of those pillars of our community, and she will be missed.”

  The mayor turned around and watched as the slideshow continued to play.

  “This is the memorial Grandma would’ve wanted,” Holly whispered.

  “She totally would’ve dug it,” Elda said. “She loved this place more than anything.”

  Danny turned to them. “Your grandma.” He shook his head. “I can’t even imagine someone else living in that house.”

  “Us either.” Holly’s other hand grabbed Danny’s.

  He’d experienced so many recent life changes that losing his elderly next-door neighbor had seemed like one of the smaller ones. But Dolores had always been there for him, Brian, and their mom. She had their spare key. She invited them for dinner once a month, at least. He mowed her lawn and weeded her garden in the summertime, and she made him cookies and lemonade as a thank you. And now someone else would’ve been living in her house. Dolores was gone. Her family was leaving and never coming back.

  But he couldn’t get all sad about it now. Holly was here for another week. They still had a bunch of holiday festivities to get through. Now was not the time to be sad. Now was the time to be grateful for all the things he did have, the things he could’ve very easily missed out on if he hadn’t allowed himself to open up. He squeezed Holly’s hand, and she squeezed back.

  The mayor stepped up to the microphone again. “It is time now to announce the winner of this year’s gingerbread contest.”

  “Wait. Is that my showstopper?” Holly pointed to the table at the front of the room, where all the competitors’ entries had been displayed.

  “I may have had my brother sneak it out of your garage,” Danny said.

  Holly squeezed his hand and didn’t let go.

  “In third place.” The mayor squinted at the card in front of him, then looked up, grinning. “Tinka Foster!”