by Dani Collins
“Oh, that’s nice. Who is Nicki?” The woman looked to Quincy.
Other kids had mentioned grandparents, aunts, and teachers. Atlas said, “My fwen’.”
“A family friend,” Quincy confirmed, feeling odd calling her that. A man didn’t come as close as he had to making a pass at a friend.
And now he was back to second-guessing what he’d done this morning. What he’d done yesterday morning, when he had run out to see if he could start her car. He’d taken a hard look at what a rat trap it was, then had thought about her reluctance to accept help, yet she’d been ready to buy milk and walk it to his house…
On impulse, he’d detoured back to the grocery store and asked where he could pick up tickets to the ball, the one that was raising money to repair the courthouse. The one the prince was supposed to attend.
He wanted to do something nice. It was a good cause. Maybe he’d been possessed with the spirit of Christmas for five seconds. Whatever had made him do it, he’d walked into his kitchen feeling like he’d found the perfect gift for someone. He’d been smug and amused as he exchanged banter with Nicki.
Then he had almost kissed her.
The tickets had stayed in his wallet the rest of the day, practically burning a hole in the leather. Bad idea, he kept thinking.
Even so, he found himself following her with his gaze every time she came anywhere near him, feeling guilty, yet hungry in the way a man’s libido made him.
He was her boss.
Then he had driven her home and she’d been so hard on herself. How could she not see how bright and kind she was? How successful at simply being a good person?
When he rose this morning, he had spent a good ten minutes staring at that cardboard tree of hers. She and Atlas were going to make homemade wrapping paper tomorrow. On Thursday, they were going ice skating. The rest of the days until Christmas were empty.
Saturday was empty.
Some things in life were a hit between the eyes, completely unexpected. Things like, You have a son. Other times, an action was taken that couldn’t be untaken.
He had opened his wallet and stuck the tickets under the paperclip for Saturday.
Maybe she would say, No thanks. Maybe she would go with someone else. Take Pops, he thought with an ironic smile.
He walked away feeling as though he had flicked the switch that could turn on a string of lights or explode all the bulbs.
Atlas was done with positioning his polar bear and ready for the next step.
“Looks good, son,” Quincy said, just the way his own father had said to him a million times. “Now we’re going to put the water and the glitter in the jar.”
He reached to the demo that was on the table and gave it a little shake as he tipped it over to show Atlas—
“Oh, that one isn’t—”
Water and glitter sluiced down his shirt and spattered across his lap and upper thighs.
“—sealed.” The workshop leader winced.
The room went silent. All heads turned to look at him.
He looked like he’d wet himself. Like he peed glitter.
Laughter exploded in a chorus around him.
Atlas blinked owl eyes at him, as astonished as Quincy. They broke up at the same time, laughing wholeheartedly.
His son looked so happy in that moment. Quincy’s heart clenched. He wanted to hug the little guy until he squirmed to get away. Until he had coated the kid in all the glitter he was wearing.
The mishap was worth it. The one with the glitter, and the one with Karen. Maybe he would never know exactly how Atlas had come to exist, but Quincy didn’t care about that so much anymore. He was simply happy Atlas did exist, and was here with him today.
*
Nicki picked up the Copper Mountain Courier from the coffee table. “Maury, are you done with this one? It’s last week’s.”
Maury muted the news and glanced at it. “Have I finished the crossword?”
She found it and showed him it was completed. “I want to let Atlas paint it, so we have wrapping paper. Have you thought of something he could get Quincy for Christmas? If you leave it to me, I’m going to let him buy the most outrageous tie, just because I think it would be hilariously cliché. But it would probably be better if you and I took Atlas together. Could we go into town tomorrow and see what we find?”
“Tomorrow…” Maury lifted his chin in preparation for making a great announcement. “I have a date.”
Nicki gasped with deliberate drama and bracketed her face with splayed hands, quickly lowering herself to sit across from him. “Do you. With whom, may I ask? Where are you going? Will you be out past curfew?” She tucked her hands between her knees and leaned forward. “Does Quincy know?”
Maury smirked, coloring a little as he shook his head, amused. “I only set it up this morning. That was Joan on the phone a little while ago, returning my call. Joan Entwhistle, Bill’s sister. We’re having pie and coffee at the Mainstreet Diner, after we watch It’s A Wonderful Life on matinee at the cinema.”
“Well! That does sound fun. I’m tickled for you.” She was envious. But very happy to see him glow with such embarrassed pleasure. “We’ll shop later in the week, then. Maybe Saturday? Gosh, time is flying. Christmas will be here before we know it.”
“You have a date on Saturday,” Maury said, nodding toward the Advent calendar.
“What?” She snapped her head around to see something poking from the paperclip under the number seventeen. She hadn’t even looked at the calendar today.
“Atlas asked me this morning what that said. He’s quite taken with that thing, you know. He’s been waiting for snow-globe day. Didn’t know what a snow globe was, only that Quincy was going to take him to make something again. I can’t thank you enough for all that you’re doing for him.”
Atlas or Quincy?
Her stomach contracted with sharp nostalgia as she moved toward the cardboard tree. It was the childhood excitement of a surprise and the painfully real self-consciousness of receiving a gift from an unexpected source. That old calendar of her mother’s had been days and days of thoughtful nurturing and gentle spoiling, reinforcing that she was loved.
Suddenly, she was suffused in that sense of being cared for again. Valued. Her whole body flooded with warmth.
She took up the tickets and fanned them. The Christmas ball?
Her squiggling stomach dropped anchor in her toes.
“This is a really nice gesture, Maury.” Was she shaking? How embarrassing. She cleared her throat, trying to steady her voice. “But I can’t ask Quincy to take me to this. Does he know you bought these? Or were you planning to take me?” she added in a thin attempt at humor. “Atlas, perhaps?”
“Exactly what sort of playboy do you think I am, making a date with Joan and you? No, I didn’t buy those. Quincy did. I suggested it.” Maury tilted a sly brow. “Because I happen to know how to arrange the kind of date that impresses a woman. But I didn’t know he bought them until I saw them this morning.”
“But he doesn’t… Why—?” What was she going to do?
*
He knew as soon as he walked into the kitchen that she’d seen the tickets. She was making lunch and avoided looking at him in favor of showering attention on Atlas. Did he have fun, was he hungry? Could she see the globe he made?
“It’s a suh-pwize.”
“For who? Me? Really? Oh, sweetie, I can’t wait!” She hugged him as she got his jacket off and swished past Quincy to hang it on the lower coat hook by the door.
“Vegetable soup and tuna melts,” she told Quincy as she passed him. “Will you dish up for Atlas? I’ll run and tell your dad it’s ready.”
“I have to change. Down here, by the washer.”
That made her finally look directly at him.
Her eyes widened as she went from the glitter clinging to his shirt collar down to the streaks near his knees. Most of it banded his waist like a belt worn by disco-dancers. The biggest lump sat lik
e a rodeo prize belt buckle right over his fly.
“What on earth?”
“I was mugged by Christmas.”
“You certainly were! You have Christmas all over you. It might never come off.”
“Tell me about it.” He hung his hands off his hips as though disgusted. He was ridiculously pleased when she laughed. Why? He hated being laughed at, but Atlas was still grinning. Quincy couldn’t get enough of that.
“I think that’s your laundry I took out of the dryer this morning. The basket is still in there. Hand me those as you take them off. I’ll shake them outside. Atlas, will you go find Pops? Tell him lunch is ready.”
Quincy went into the laundry room and left the door cracked as he pulled clean sweats and a T-shirt from the basket. Then he took the coward’s way out and spoke from behind the door as he shed his clothes.
“If you don’t want to go…” Was he starting to blush? How old was he? “I just wanted to thank you for your help with Atlas.”
It was true, but her silence was deafening. Was she even there?
“And I figured, when are we likely to rub elbows with royalty again?” He stepped into his track pants and tied them off. “But if you think it’s crossing a line because I’m your boss—?”
“No!” Her voice sounded kind of high.
He stood there, shirtless, holding the clean one, straining to hear her.
“I mean, it’s really thoughtful. I just… Like, do you want to see this prince then? Is that why?”
He couldn’t care less about meeting a prince, but he said, “Sure. Why not?” He pulled his T-shirt over his head.
“So it’s not a date date. It’s just a night out.”
Did she sound relieved?
“Sure. Call it a staff party.” He frowned. He barely endured those things. Deep in his gut, he wished this could be a date date.
He opened the door, glitter-covered clothes balled in his arm.
She widened her eyes, obviously not expecting him to barge out like this. Her gaze hung up at his forehead. “It really isn’t going to come off. It’s in your hair and beard now.”
He gave his hair and chin a ruffle, but accepted he would sparkle like a unicorn for days. “ ’Tis the season of magic.”
Her smile faded into something shy. She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Well, if it’s a job perk, then sure. Okay. Thanks. It sounds like fun. The ball, I mean. Not, um, the magic.”
Her cheeks went from pink to red, but his father and Atlas came in. The worst of the awkwardness passed.
December 15th
“Do you have something to wear?” Quincy asked.
Nicki looked up from tying Atlas’s skate, confused.
“I’ll warm up once we’re moving.” There was a slight breeze. The sun wasn’t throwing any heat through a film of thin clouds, but she already wore gloves and a hat as well as her trusty jacket. She wasn’t too cold.
“No, I mean for Saturday. Pops thought you might need something formal.”
“Oh! Um, yes, I do have something. Kind of.” She blushed, having tried all week to put their coming date out of her mind. “I have a long skirt that goes with anything.”
She’d found it in a consignment store a few years ago. It was a mainstay in her winter wardrobe because it dressed up and down so well. She had a handful of tops to go with it and had decided on the demure white one, even though it might make her look like she was there to wait tables.
“Okay. Good.” Did he sound nervous?
She was afraid to look and smiled at Atlas instead. “They’re supposed to feel tight, but not too tight. Are they okay?”
He nodded, gaze fixed beyond her on the people circling the ice. A handful of kids were shooting at a goal at the far end. Parents held their children’s hands, teenagers held each other’s hands, and a dog scampered between it all. Some people held cocoa and travel mugs as they skated, but she and Quincy had agreed to wait on buying any treats until Atlas needed a break.
“Ready?” She got up from balancing on her toe picks and knees, carefully standing in her skates, thinking it had been way too long since she’d done this. She was liable to be nursing a few bruises tomorrow. She helped Atlas off the bench and held onto him, making sure he had his balance.
Quincy was right there, already reaching to take the boy’s other hand.
Before they realized what was happening, Atlas released his grip on Nicki, avoided Quincy’s hand, and shot from between them toward the center of the ice. He cut his skates in a slippery run, his technique jerky and his gait wide, his little arms flailing in a clumsy rhythm, but his confidence was one hundred percent. He stayed upright, and his speed was heart stopping.
Nicki blinked at the equally stunned Quincy. “Your kid can skate.”
“I asked him if he wanted to try skating. It didn’t occur to me to ask if he already knew how.”
“Well, I hope you can skate, because I’m rusty.”
“I’m Quincy.” He winked and pushed off to chase down his son, moving with ease as he zigzagged between skaters to catch up to Atlas.
Really? Another terrible pun when she was trying so hard to keep from seeing him as attractive and datable? And did he realize that making dumb jokes was solid-gold proof he was becoming a dad?
She did her best imitation of Bambi, wobbling herself from the bench area onto the surface of the lake. Miracle Lake, it was called, but she wasn’t sure why. Were people supposed to wish for miracles while they were here?
With a self-conscious glance at the skaters laughing and swooshing around her, she surreptitiously clenched her hands beneath her chin and dipped her head. Skate blades had cut patterns into the dusting of snow, leaving scratches and scuffs and swirls. She knew the ice had to be around a foot thick or they wouldn’t let people on it, but it seemed really thin and clear for a moment. As if she could see to the dark bottom, yet the lake seemed bottomless. The possibilities endless.
Please let me have my heart’s desire.
She knew she ought to be more specific, but she was too scared to voice what she really wanted, even in her head. It would be too devastating if it didn’t work out.
“Nicki!” Atlas had made his way around and came at her like Edward Scissorhands, blades flashing all around him. Quincy kept pace with a relaxed look on his face. Enjoying himself? That was a miracle.
As they came alongside her, she said, “You skate really well, Atlas.”
“Yep. I yike it.” He didn’t let her slow him down, just kept up that shaky speed skate of his, steering himself around all the legs and people pausing to twirl. He even avoided a collision with an older boy chasing a puck.
Nicki found it terrifying to watch, but Quincy stuck within arm’s reach of the boy, his athleticism worth watching as Atlas took an unexpected path, forcing Quincy to make a quick stop that sprayed a fan of snow so he could change directions and stay close.
She stuck to the outside of the gyration, pushing herself in a slow glide on one foot, more like riding a scooter than skating.
“Do you want us to hold your hands?” Quincy teased as they came up behind her again.
Yes.
“I don’t want to hold you back. You obviously possess a family gift for this.”
Quincy slowed to her pace, eyes on Atlas as the boy plowed headlong forward. “I ski more than I skate, but it came right back to me. Hey, that’s something we should try with him. Skiing. I bet he’d love it.”
We.
A funny unfurling sensation went through her middle, but before she could examine it too closely, he nodded and skated after Atlas while a girl called out behind her. “Nicki!”
It was Petra, coming up behind her, holding hands with a good-looking, well-muscled young man in his early twenties. They were a fetching young couple with their trendy hats, coats, and skinny jeans. Right out of an ad for wherever young folk shopped these days.
It struck Nicki that she was probably only a few years older than Petra, but the girl
seemed young, and Nicki felt old. She had never been able to afford whatever her age group was supposed to be wearing. Not unless it turned up in the secondhand shops.
“Where’s Atlas?” Petra asked.
Nicki pointed to where he was already on the other side of the ice, destined to win a medal before he was their age if he kept up that enthusiasm.
“Oh, look at him! He knows what he’s doing, doesn’t he? That’s the little boy I was telling you about,” she said to her boyfriend. “The one who’s in love with Lucy. This is Flynn,” she told Nicki. “Goodwin. Sorry, I should have done that first. And I’ve just realized I don’t know your last name.”
“Darren. Nice to meet you.” They exchanged a brief, gloved shake. “Quincy is Atlas’s dad.” She pointed to his navy-blue fisherman’s cap and dun-colored jacket. “I’m a nursing aide, but I’m helping out with childcare, keeping Atlas busy so Quincy can work.”
“Oh, I thought you were his stepmom,” Petra said with an embarrassed chuckle.
Nicki almost said that was her worst nightmare, becoming someone’s evil stepmother, but that wasn’t as true as it used to be. In fact…
“Does it sound awful I didn’t think you were his mom?” Petra asked, setting a hand on her forehead. “I didn’t hear you pull out the mom voice, so I… I’m making this worse.”
They all laughed. Flynn shook his head at her. “What are you even talking about?”
“Oh, you know. Like my mom is super nice, but if she figures it’s time to settle down or go to bed or whatever, she uses the mom voice. Yours uses it. I’ve heard her. Flynn Goodwin, what are these shoes doing in the hall again?”
“Yeah, she hates that,” he agreed with a smirk.
“Anyway, I didn’t hear you use that voice, so…” Petra shrugged, laughing at herself.
“I’m just here for December,” Nicki said, smiling through the sting. “Heading back to Glacier Creek for Christmas. That’s where I grew up.” Had Gloria used the mom voice on her? Would she have listened?
She really hadn’t given that woman enough credit.
“I’ve been to Glacier Creek,” Flynn said. “One of our coaches arranged a clinic to run us through the firefighter stamina training at their smokejumper base. I thought I was gonna die. And they went easy on us, ’cause we were kids and they didn’t want any injuries.”