The Holiday Switch(24)

“Sure? I can’t finish all of this, and consider it a thanks for bringing my phone to me this morning. And for putting up with my sparkler attitude at work.”

My tummy growls again, overshadowing my embarrassment. Reluctantly, I take a piece of bacon and place it onto my plate.

“Look. My feelings aren’t hurt, Lila. I know I haven’t been, I dunno, excited about working shifts with you. There’s just a lot going on right now.”

I nod, taking a bite. His honesty endears me to him a smidge, enough that I relax into my seat.

“Wanna try a marshmallow?” he says after he takes a bite of a sausage link. He pushes the plate toward me, and then he grabs a marshmallow, skewered by a short stick, examines it, and slides it off the stick with his teeth.

I do the same. It is an interesting combination of sweet and savory and a crunchy outer shell with gooey insides.

    “The verdict? Recommend?”

“Actually, it’s not so bad,” I say, licking my bottom lip.

“It might be a little too greasy for me.” He sips his drink.

In my periphery, the servers gather in a group and stand shoulder to shoulder. When the jukebox track changes to Wham’s “Last Christmas,” they sing along and do a coordinated dance.

Teddy shakes his head. “Holly is…”

“Don’t say weird,” I warn, my hackles rising.

“You don’t think it’s odd that this entire city is holidayed out because of one movie?”

“No. Doesn’t every place have its quirks? Besides, I live and work here, and so do you, at least for now. It’s not such a bad thing, to be around people who lean into the holiday cheer.”

He makes a noise.

“Was that…was that a grumble? Are you a Scrooge? Is this your shack?” I tease.

“Har-har.”

I can’t help but smile into my pancakes.



* * *





We eat in surprisingly companionable silence sprinkled with small talk. I am famished; perhaps my defensiveness walking into Scrooge’s was due to basic morning grumpiness. It was thoughtful of Teddy to order enough food for two, and with no other side comments about my phone, I decide that Teddy doesn’t know much more than he’s revealed.

Once I’ve taken the edge off my hunger, his words about my missed texts catch up belatedly.

    “So…do you have any ideas on what my dad should get for my mom for Christmas?”

He takes another sip of his drink. “Last year my dad gave my mom a mother’s necklace. It had a charm of my birthstone. She loved it.”

The idea’s a good one—Jubilee’s Jewels down the street displayed a similar necklace. “I like that, but my parents make it a thing where they set a low budget for their gifts. It’s supposed to, quote, ‘spark their gifting creativity.’ Those are my mom’s words. Last year, they capped it at five dollars, and she got him stationery so he could write letters to her. My mom loves getting handwritten notes, and I guess she missed it.” The memory makes me smile. Their gift challenge began the year Dad’s business closed. It was an especially lean year, and somehow they didn’t make a big deal of it.

It might have been one of our best Christmases ever.

“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” he says.

“What do you mean?”

“Just that you don’t miss an opportunity to make a point.” His lips curl into an honest-to-goodness grin.

It’s a dare, so I challenge him. “Do you mean when I’m right?”

“Exactly.” Teddy pauses, like he’s come to an idea. “So how would you rate Scrooge’s Shack? Five stars or four?” He forks a piece of pancake and examines it.

It’s a strange question, but his tone is sincere. “A five. I’ve eaten here since they opened, at least five years ago. I’ve never had bad food, not once.”

“How about the customer service?”

    “Definitely a five. Did you see how fast my powdered sugar showed up?” I peer at him. “Why, are you putting up a review somewhere?”

“Nope. Just wondering.”

“Okay?” I scoop another helping onto my plate. With the jukebox in a lull, the brief dead air is deafening. “Next subject. What’s your major at Syracuse?” When he shoots me a questioning look, I add, “Ms. Velasco told me.”

“Ah.” He nods. “Business.”

“Do you like the school?”

He shrugs. “It’s all core classes right now, so I’m coasting.”

“Mmm.”

“What’s mmm for?”

“Nothing, just that you’re so…” I wave my fork around and try to work out the description in my head. What’s a good description for Teddy that won’t insult him? “…whatever.”

“And you are perhaps…”

“Not that.”

“Ah.” He forks another pancake from the platter and drops it onto his plate. “You’re a not that who takes powdered sugar on her pancakes instead of syrup.”

“Which indicates?”

“That there’s more to your not that.”