His father smiled knowingly back at him. “Yes, Sam? What are my strengths?”
Sam winced. “Dad doesn’t have any.”
Mr. Anderson tossed a piece of green pie at his son.
Sam ducked and whispered to Tinka. “It’s true, though.”
“I think I’m with you, Mr. Anderson.” Tinka had folded her hands in her lap. “Assuming there’s no food-specific category, I’m probably a jack of all trades, master of none.”
“I’m in good company, then.” Sam’s dad rolled the die, a six. Maddie moved their pink game piece to a blue space. “I’m not sure Sam told you, but my good friend, Marge, owns a very successful bakery near where you go to school.”
“I didn’t know that.” Tinka eyed Sam accusingly.
His insides flipped like they did whenever he knew her eyes were on him. “Sorry. I forgot.”
Hakeem read the first question. “The largest fresh water lake in the world, Lake Baikal, is located in which country?”
“Marge is coming to the wedding on Saturday. I can introduce you.”
“You’re avoiding the question, Dad,” said Matthew.
“I am not. I’m having a conversation. Maddie can answer it. Would you like that, Tinka?” Sam’s dad asked.
“Maddie,” Harper said, “name a country. Any country.”
Maddie tapped her lips, thinking.
“She doesn’t know any countries,” Sam said. This was always his dad’s M.O. When he didn’t know the answer to something, he’d punt to Maddie, under the guise of getting her involved in the game.
“Yes, I do.” Maddie pouted. “I’m going into third grade. I’m not a baby.”
“Then name one,” Harper said.
“That would be great. Thank you, Mr. Anderson,” Tinka said. “I’d love to talk to your friend.”
“Egypt?” Maddie scrunched up her nose.
“Ennnnhhh!” Matthew, Hakeem, Harper, and Elena made a buzzing sound.
Tinka startled next to Sam.
“Wrong!” Matthew said.
“It was Russia.” Hakeem stuffed the card into the back of the box and handed the die to Sam, who shook it.
Sam’s dad was still talking to Tinka. “Maybe she can set you up with an internship or something, or whatever it is you bakers call it—apprenticeship?”
Sam’s arm stopped mid-roll.
“Oh.” Tinka ran her finger along the edges of a piece of orange pie. “Maybe. I don’t know how much time I’ll have for that sort of thing. There’s school. And the golf team.”
“She has a lot going on, Dad,” Sam said.
“Just roll, Sammy,” Harper whined. Then she whispered to Elena, “This game is going to take forever.”
“Your dad mentioned you’re quite a golfer,” Sam’s dad said. “We’ll have to hit the links sometime, you and your dad with Sam and me.”
“Yeah,” Tinka said. “I’d like that.”
Sensing that this conversation was not helping her forget the scene at her house, Sam rolled the die and moved to grab Tinka’s hand, but he stopped himself. It would’ve been too real, too much of a boyfriend move. They’d stopped casually touching each other since the other night at Maurice’s. Sam had been avoiding contact because he was scared flagrant touching would push Tinka to end their fauxmance and, thus, their friendship. He couldn’t have that.
He shifted his chair away from her a few inches, just to be safe.
After the game ended, Sam walked Tinka back to her house to the soundtrack of Matthew and Hakeem belting out the song “We Are the Champions” from the deck.
In the distance, Harper squealed, “Shut up, you losers!”
“We’re not losers,” Matthew said. “We’re winners.” Then he and Hakeem started another chorus of their victory song.
On her doorstep, Tinka said, “Your dad was so nice to mention his friend and her bakery. Working there would be amazing.”
“It would be great for you.”
“In another life.” She stared at the sky. “It’s too complicated. You heard my dad.”
“You could do both.” Sam was heading off to L.A. in the fall to study film. There had never been any doubt about that. But Tinka, who wanted something so simple and so tangible, couldn’t face her parents with the truth.
“Not in the fall. No time,” she said. “There are practices or matches every single day.”
“In the spring, then.” Sam was determined to make this happen for her.
She shook her head, staring him right in the eye. “You heard my dad. My golfing keeps Jake alive for him. What I want doesn’t matter. Not right now.” She drew in a long breath, held it for a moment, then exhaled. “Why do I feel like I’m constantly waiting for my turn? It’s like I’ve put everything on hold. Unless I come clean with him, what? Am I going to keep pursuing this golf thing forever?”
Sam’s hand flinched. He was about to reach out to her, to hug her, and he stopped himself. They weren’t doing that anymore. But this was different. This wouldn’t be a romantic embrace. Tinka needed a friend, and Sam was her friend. He would’ve hugged Harper in this moment. Or Jane even. It would almost be worse not to hug her. He’d just made up his mind to offer Tinka his arm, when her phone buzzed.
Groaning, she checked it. “Shit.” Her shoulders dropped as she glanced up at Sam. “Thank you. Really. I had so much fun tonight.”
“You’re welcome.” His arms were back down at his sides. The moment for a friendly hug had passed. Probably. Maybe.
Tinka hesitated a second, then stepped toward Sam. He braced himself. He’d give her the friendly double pat on the back and send her on her way. He leaned in, but Tinka cut him off, using her phone as a barrier between them. “I have to deal with this.” She waved the phone and ducked inside, leaving Sam to follow the sounds of Matthew and Hakeem butchering Queen back to his house.
Chapter Twelve
The next morning, while Tinka was eating a sad breakfast of instant coffee and stale doughnuts on the living room floor, using old newspapers as a makeshift picnic blanket, someone banged hard on the front door. Groaning, she hoisted herself up and pulled open the door. There was Sam in red basketball shorts and a T-shirt designed to resemble an ugly Christmas sweater. His sister, brother, and Hakeem stood behind him, all dressed in red and green.
“Merry Christmas.” Sam’s eyes stayed on Tinka’s feet as he handed her a candy cane. Then he stepped back, pushing Harper to the front.
“Uh…” Tinka said.
“I’m as confused as you are,” Hakeem said.
“It’s July First,” Harper explained. “Today is the Christmas in July festival.” She had a mistletoe barrette in her hair.
Sam kept playing with the drawstring on his shorts, looking anywhere but at Tinka. He’d gone in for a hug last night, and she’d cut him off. He was obviously upset about it.
Harper handed Tinka a green T-shirt, which said “On the Naughty List.” “After six months of slightly subdued Christmas cheer, North Pole goes whole hog on the first of July with a town-wide re-Christmas-ing party. There’s eggnog and sleigh rides.”
“And Santa comes. You can sit on his lap,” Matthew explained.
“You can,” Hakeem muttered.
“Maurice marathons Christmas movies all day.” Matthew checked his watch. “He’s showing Scrooged right now.”
“But you’re under no pressure to come,” Sam said.
He did not want to be here. The way he kept fidgeting with his clothes and glancing back at the driveway, he was about to take off running. That was fine. Tinka’d let him off the hook. “I don’t know. The other girls—”
Harper grabbed a shopping bag from Hakeem and handed it to Tinka. “We have shirts for Jane and Karen, too.”
Now Sam was looking at her, a blank expression on his face. Tinka couldn’t tell if he wanted her to say yes or no. So, she went with what she wanted, instead, which was any excuse to get out of the house for the day. “Okay. I’ll rally the troop
s.” She and Sam had had a nice time together the day before; and they’d survive today, too, as long as the two of them kept their distance.
Their group took two cars into town, and Harper assigned the vehicles. Tinka rode with Jane and Sam in his truck, while everyone else took Harper’s car.
So the whole “keep their distance” thing was already an abject failure.
“Everything okay?” It was the first thing Sam had said to Tinka since she’d agreed to go into town. Right now he appeared to be making an effort to stay as close to the driver’s side door as possible.
Tinka was making a similar effort to keep her own body near Jane’s on the passenger’s side. “Yeah. Why?”
“Last night you got a text and seemed kind of upset about it.” Sam shrugged, eyes straight ahead.
“Oh.” Tinka snuck a peek at Jane, who was gazing out the window at Main Street. Stores had set up sale racks crammed with Christmas paraphernalia along the sidewalks. There were deals on skis and jewelry and shotguns. An actual sleigh pulled by two shiny black horses adorned with jingling bells clomped down the road. Tinka felt like she’d been transported to another world. “Yeah. Everything’s fine. Golf stuff.”
That was a lie. The text had been from Colin, again, wanting her to get Jane off his back. She’d nearly marched down to the basement to tell Jane to cool it, but she didn’t. She’d texted Colin back instead, telling him he was being a jerk and if it meant so much to him, he should block Jane’s number. Tinka hadn’t heard back from him. Maybe he’d finally gotten the hint that she wasn’t going to be bullied by him.
As Sam hunted for a parking spot, they drove past the town square, where restaurants had set up booths for the Taste of North Pole. A very authentic-looking Santa and his elves—all of them wearing shorts, tank tops, and sunglasses—held court in the middle of the commotion. In the park, a band played old-timey Christmas songs from the gazebo.
“The bands get better as the day goes on,” Sam said as he parked his truck on a side street near the playground. “Eight Maids A-Milking closes out the night.”
“Eight Maids A-Milking?” Jane adjusted her silver skirt that looked like tinsel, which she’d borrowed from Harper.
“The best rock band in North Pole. All girls, but there are only six of them. I guess the name’s supposed to be ironic.” Sam flashed his dimple at Jane, and jealousy coursed through Tinka’s veins, even though Jane hadn’t done anything wrong. That dimple belonged to Tinka, and Sam had been hiding it from her all morning.
The Andersons, Hakeem, Tinka, Jane, and Karen stayed together while perusing the food offerings in the town square. Sam kept a casual, but not unfriendly distance. He interacted with Tinka the same way he interacted with Harper. That put things in context. They were doing the brother/sister thing. Even though she didn’t have much experience in that realm, Tinka knew she could roll with it, especially because they had so many people around them as a buffer.
But after everyone had had their fill of figgy pudding, savory gingerbread crackers with goat cheese and cranberry chutney, and iced peppermint lattes, the group splintered. Matthew and Hakeem met up with some of Matthew’s old high school friends. Harper and Jane ran off with Harper’s buddies. Karen wandered off with Eric Joyce, who was wearing a plain white T-shirt under a moth-ridden homemade Christmas vest. Soon Sam and Tinka were alone.
“And then there were two,” Sam said.
Tinka scanned the crowd. They’d lost their safeguard.
Sam appeared to be searching for a chaperone as well. “We can meet up with some of my friends. I’m sure Brian is around, or we can hunt for Harper and Jane, see what they’re up to.”
None of that sounded good to Tinka. She didn’t want other people. She wanted Sam, her good friend Sam. Emphasis on the “friend.” There was no reason the two of them shouldn’t be able to spend the day alone together. They’d done it before. Besides, who better to show her around town today than him? He was basically the mayor of North Pole. “Maybe we can hook up with them later.”
“Really?” Sam’s eyes darkened. “You sure?”
“I’m sure.” Tinka straightened her posture. They were doing this. Brother and sister all day long. “I’m a shapeless mound for you to mold into a Christmas in July expert. Where do we start?”
“You’re putting me in charge of your Christmas festival destiny.” Now Sam flashed his elusive dimple at her. The day, her life, the world could’ve ended right at that moment and it would’ve been fine with Tinka.
“Do your worst,” she said.
“Such awesome responsibility.” He put his hand to his mouth and surveyed the scene. Townsfolk in red and green frolicked along Main Street and through the square. Tinka was actually starting to recognize people. She saw Maurice from the video store, and Craig the guy who complained a lot, and the other Garland boy from the coffee shop. “We have to see Santa,” Sam said finally.
“Lead the way.” Beaming, she followed him to the square.
The two of them got in line behind a bunch of young kids and their parents, and Sam immediately stepped out of the queue. “I’ll be right back.”
“You’re abandoning me?” Tinka playfully wagged a fist at Sam.
Walking backward away from her, he said, “It’s for a good cause.”
As Sam spun around and traipsed away, Tinka realized she was grinning like a lovesick fool. She bit her lip to put an end to that, as he stopped to chat, hug, or shake hands with almost everyone he ran into. Her heart warmed involuntarily. He was so the mayor.
When Sam returned, he handed her a bag of warm pecans covered in cinnamon sugar. Tinka popped a few into her mouth and let the spicy-sweet coating dissolve on her tongue. “Yum.”
“See, I told you I was abandoning you for a good reason.”
“The best reason.” She grabbed another handful of nuts. “You can abandon me anytime if this is what you return with.”
When it was their turn to see Santa, Tinka sat on his lap, and Sam snapped her picture. They got a few happy ones and one of her pretending to bawl like a two-year-old. Then they had a third grader in line snap a few pics of her and Sam together with Santa—Tinka on Santa’s knee, Sam all the way on the other side of Santa’s chair.
Outside Mrs. Claus’s Closet, Tinka shivered as she assessed the sky, which was bright blue and cloudless. “Does it feel colder? The sun is shining, and it’s, like, eighty-five degrees, but I feel like I should be wearing a scarf.”
“They have those.” Sam pointed to an entire rack of wool scarves on display.
“Of course they do.” Tinka bent over the accessories table and held up a pair of earrings. They were dangly irregular quadrangles with a pearly rainbow design. “These are cool,” she said. “They’d go with my dress for your brother’s wedding, actually.” She flushed at the mention of the wedding. There’d be dancing there, and moonlight, and everyone would automatically be in a romantic mood…
“So get them.”
“Maybe later.” Tinka patted her shorts. “I didn’t bring any money with me.”
“And those nuts cleaned me out.” He pulled out the pockets of his gym shorts to show her that he was all out of cash.
Tinka frowned. “Well, now how are you going to take me on a carriage ride? Isn’t that one of the main events of North Pole’s Christmas in July?” She’d always thought romantic carriage rides were cheesy, but she would make an exception for Sam. There were a lot of things she could imagine doing with Sam that she’d never do with anyone else.
Sam grinned mischievously. “It is. But we don’t pay for carriage rides.”
“We don’t?”
He shook his head. “Trust me.”
Her heart pounded in her ears. She wasn’t sure of those words: trust me. Nothing easy and safe came after “trust me.”
They dashed down Main Street, dodging a group of carolers in Christmas-themed swim attire—bikinis and swim trunks with masks and snorkels.
The carriage was up
ahead, starting to pull away from the curb. “Do what I do,” Sam said.
Checking for cars, Sam led Tinka into the street until they were right behind the carriage, which hadn’t yet reached full speed. He jumped onto one of the rails and held on tight to the wrought iron curl that snaked up from the bottom. He looked like he was wind-surfing through Main Street on the back of a horse-drawn sleigh. Shutting out the part of her brain that was screaming, “No! Danger! This is how you die!” Tinka followed his lead and jumped onto the other rail.
“Holy shit.” Her hands clutched the rail in front of her. “That had to be more dangerous than the Jingle Falls slide.”
“Oh, it totally was,” Sam said. “You did great.”
She was street surfing on the back of a sled, yet she was still alive and unharmed. Amazing.
The people who’d actually paid for their sleigh ride turned around to see who’d jumped aboard.
“Tinka, you’ve met Craig before,” Sam said. “And Dinesh.”
“From the arcade.” If Tinka hadn’t been gripping the carriage for her very survival, she would’ve touched the ring around her neck right now.
“Where are you guys off to?” Sam asked.
“You’re stealing our ride.” Craig narrowed his eyes.
“We are,” Sam agreed.
“We’re going to the park.” Dinesh elbowed Craig in the side. “Hang on tight.”
Sam saluted him. “Thanks.”
The sleigh took them all the way down Main Street, past the elementary school, and toward the park. Tinka closed her eyes as the wind whipped at her face. She was hanging on to a sleigh for dear life, but somehow she’d never felt calmer. When she opened her eyes, she was looking right at Sam. He was flashing that dimple again, making her melt—he, her good friend, Sam, whom she thought of as a brother, and absolutely nothing more.
Sam and Tinka hopped off near the playground and ran toward the gazebo, where six girls were setting up to play.
“That’s Marley, right?” Tinka recognized the girl who’d kissed Sam at the dark party. She was tuning her guitar.
“That’s her.” Sam waved to Marley. “The other girls go to North Pole High as well. Allison, the drummer, was my prom date.”
Artificial Sweethearts (North Pole, Minnesota) Page 15
