Holly and the Humbug by Maggie Shayne

Author:Maggie Shayne [Shayne, Maggie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Thunderfoot

HOLLY CARRIED HER EMPTY PLATE INTO THE KITCHEN, and her reluctant houseguest did the same. When she put a kettle of water on to heat, he crooked an eyebrow at her. “No hot water?” he asked.

“It’s gas, and it’s not lit. I didn’t bother. Probably just as well we don’t–I mean, we’ve got a limited supply of gas. It’s a new tank, but it’s not a big one.”

“You’re using as much gas heating it on the stove as you would in the hot water heater.”

“I am not. Why heat fifty gallons and keep them hot for the duration, when we can heat just what we need, when we need it?”

“Because I’m going to want a shower in the morning. How much propane is out there?”

“I don’t know. A tankful.”

“Yeah, but how big a tank?”

She shrugged.

“All right. I’ll check while I’m out. If it’s enough to last three days, we light the hot water heater. Deal?”

“What do you mean, while you’re out? Why are you going out?”

"To see if it looks like I could make it back to the hotel.”

“In that Matchbox Car you drove?”

“It’s a Porsche.”

“In this weather, you’d be lucky to make it in a Bronco.”

“I’m just going to take a look.”

She shook her head at that. “Fine, you win. If the notion of spending any more time in my presence is that intimidating to you, then–”

“Intimidating?”

She shrugged.

“Why would you think you intimidated me?”

“I haven’t figured that out yet. I think you might be afraid of me. Or maybe of yourself. If you hang around me, you might just enjoy the holiday, and for some reason, you can’t let yourself do that.”

“Holly, there’s absolutely no chance I’m ever going to manage to enjoy Christmas. But uh, just so you know, I was thinking if I could get back to the hotel, I’d try to talk you into going, too. If the power goes out, and three feet of snow piles up out there, I just think it might be safer.”

“Oh.”

She watched through the doorway as he bent to pull on his boots, then his coat. Then he went to the door, and headed outside. She ducked aside to avoid the rush of wind and cold that came in when he left. Then she sighed and shook her head and tried not to wonder if he had been thinking one room, or two, at the hotel.

She took her teapot off the burner, and poured the steaming water into a waiting dishpan. Then she cooled it with some from the tap, and washed the handful of dishes from their shared dinner.

As she washed the dishes, she recalled standing here at the sink at the age of twelve, washing them after dinner and complaining loudly the entire time. “I don’t know why I have to do them. I’m not the mom.”

To which her mother had replied, “And just where did you get the idea that dishes were always the mom’s job?” Holly had frowned. Her father had just smiled to himself and averted his eyes.

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