Approximately Yours (North Pole, Minnesota #3)(32)

Her eyes met Danny’s for a second. He was looking at her, which was something he’d been doing a lot tonight. He had to stop that. It was like he was trying so hard to be her friend, like he needed her approval or something. Well, why? Who cared what Holly thought?

She folded her arms and stared off in the distance. She’d rather people assume she didn’t care than think she cared too much. Vulnerability was not in her comfort zone.

“Why aren’t you up there, Craig?” Danny nodded toward the stage at the far end of the room. A DJ had started setting up his equipment, and Dinesh had gone up to speak to the guy.

Craig folded his arms. “I’m not a karaoke DJ, Daniel.”

“There’s a difference?” Danny was toying with Craig, Holly could tell. This was probably their usual rapport.

“Of course there’s a difference.”

Dinesh dropped a few binders on the table. “You’re up, Craig.”

Craig saluted the table before sauntering to the stage and grabbing the mic. “Let’s karaoke.” His voice had dropped two octaves. Craig, in his mom jeans and Dr. Who shirt, started rapping to “Lose Yourself.”

Holly’s eyes grew as big as dinner plates, and she turned to Danny, whose chin was practically on the table. “Craig is Eminem,” she said.

“We all have our niches,” Dinesh explained. “Mine’s Elvis.”

Sam, his arm around his girlfriend, said, “Tinka and I do movie songs.”

“Your grandma used to go old school—Rat Pack stuff.” Dinesh was flipping through one of the binders.

“No, she didn’t.” Holly’s grandma did not do karaoke. She and Holly were way too similar, and Holly would never, ever get up there on her own.

“She sure did,” Sam said.

“I remember.” Danny’s brow was furrowed. He was looking right at Holly, his eyes soft. “She sang ‘New York, New York.’”

“What do you know about it?” Sam said. “I seem to remember you sitting in the corner with Star last year, making fun of us.”

Danny looked down, hiding his expression, but a blush crept up his neck. “Well, Star’s out of the picture now, isn’t she?” He pulled one of the binders closer to him. “Maybe I’ll sing tonight, too.”

“Christmas miracle,” Sam said.

The members of Holly’s little group sang in turn—Dinesh performed a perfect rendition of “Suspicious Minds,” and Tinka and Sam did an enthusiastic, if off-key, version of “Elephant Love Medley” from the movie Moulin Rouge!

Sam pushed a binder toward Holly. “You’re up.”

She shook her head “no,” but couldn’t deny that electricity had filled the room. The crowd at Santa’s Playhouse buzzed with friendly, joyful support. If she was ever going to do it, this was the perfect place to lose one’s karaoke virginity. Holly thumbed through the binder, just in case inspiration struck.

The words on the page blurred when she reached the Frank Sinatra section. Holly remembered something she’d read earlier that day. “Strangers in the Night,” she said out loud.

“Good choice,” Craig said.

“No, ‘Strangers in the Night’ was written in my grandma’s day planner under the entry for round two of the gingerbread contest. I bet that’s what she was going to sing.” Holly forced a smile as tears burned her eyes. Her grandma really had planned on singing tonight. She’d also had no clue she wouldn’t be around to do it.

She felt Danny’s eyes on her, but she couldn’t look at him. It’d be too much in the moment. She was mourning her grandma. That pain was enough right now. She couldn’t bear the sting of unrequited love on top of it.

Dinesh picked up the book and nodded toward the DJ. “Come on.”

“Where?”

“We’re going to sing ‘Strangers in the Night.’ For your grandma.”

Holly shook her head. She barely knew that song. He couldn’t expect her to get up and sing it in front of all these people.

Sam jumped up. “Yeah. Let’s do it. All of us. For Mrs. Page.” Sam turned to Danny. “You in?”

“You go ahead.” His leg was up on a chair. “I’ll be your audience. I need to save my voice for my solo.”

“Fair enough.” Dinesh, who had some pull at Santa’s Playhouse, persuaded the DJ to let them jump the line. Holly fought against every nerve in her body telling her to run home and hide. This was for Grandma, to honor her. This was what the day planner had been instructing her to do. The five of them huddled around two microphones—Holly, Sam, Tinka, Dinesh, and Craig.

Laughing through the tears flooding her eyes, Holly let the others take the lead, keeping her distance from the mic. Arms linked, they all swayed in time to the music, belting out a slightly off-key version of the Sinatra song. She glanced over at Craig and Dinesh, who were basically treating this like an audition for America’s Got Talent. The crowd cheered them on as they added melismatic runs to the melody.

Holly straightened her shoulders, mimicking the guys. She was always so guarded, so practiced, so calculated. She never let go like this. Even when sculpting, she kept her subject matters benign, unemotional. When dealing with matters of the heart, like with Danny, she always took the practical route. But tonight, she leaned in closer to the microphone, nudging Craig and Dinesh out of the way, and sang the final chorus as a solo.