“I am not a retard,” Leo cried hotly.
Sienna turned to summon him back just in time to see Mr. Cratchett checking his mailbox, kids racing past him down the sidewalk. And here came Leo after the biggest one, a scowl on his face and a tightly packed snowball in his hand. He hurled it with all his might.
And missed.
His target danced away, laughing, even as the icy weapon beaned Mr. Cratchett on the head. Sienna watched in horror as Cratchett blinked, staggered and lost his balance, stumbling backward onto his lawn.
Be sure to include that new family member in your holiday preparations.
—Muriel Sterling, A Guide to Happy Holidays
Laughing and whooping, the herd of boys moved on, taking their snowball fight to the other end of the street.
Leo’s friend Jimmy stood for a moment, wide-eyed, and then he bolted.
Leo simply froze in the street, staring in horror.
“Leo, get out of the street!” Sienna called as she rushed to help Mr. Cratchett.
An approaching car honked and Leo jumped and moved out of the way. He slowly approached Cratchett, who was struggling to his feet, and said in a small voice, “I’m sorry.”
“Are you okay, Mr. Cratchett?” Sienna asked as she bent to help him up.
He waved away her hand. “I’m fine, no thanks to your son. I could’ve broken my hip. As it is, I think I’ve sprained my wrist.”
Oh, no. What if he had? What if he expected her to pay the doctor bill?
Now he was upright again and brushing the snow off his backside. Leo tried to help him and was promptly told to keep his hands to himself. “You’ll get the doctor bill for this,” he informed Sienna. Of course she would.
Just what she wanted for Christmas. “Absolutely,” she said. “I’m really sorry.”
“You’re lucky I don’t sue you,” Cratchett added.
Oh, Lord. She wouldn’t put it past him.
“I didn’t mean to hit you,” Leo told him.
“Well, you did. Didn’t you?” Cratchett snapped.
“I didn’t mean to,” Leo repeated, tears beginning to make their appearance. “I was trying to hit Tommy Haskel.”
“It’s okay, sweetie,” Sienna said, patting her son’s arm.
Cratchett glared at her. “It is not! These kids run around throwing snowballs every which way, hitting innocent bystanders, and then you coddle them.”
“He said he was sorry,” Sienna snapped, her mama-bear side showing itself.
Now Leo began to cry in earnest and she hugged him.
“You should be ashamed of yourself,” Sienna scolded Cratchett.
“Me?” he protested. “Who’s the one who got hit?”
At that moment a red truck pulled up to the curb. A large man with a dark beard wearing jeans, boots and a black parka stepped out of it. “Hey there, uncle. Making friends with the neighbors?” he said with a smile.
Cratchett told him he was a smart-ass and stomped back up his front walk.
This man was related to Mr. Cratchett? Poor him.
“Don’t tell me, let me guess,” said the man. “You must be the killer of the juniper bush.” He had a deep voice and a nice smile.
But Sienna was in no mood to smile back. “Your uncle is...impossible.”
“Yes, he is,” the man agreed.
“He’s made my life miserable ever since we moved in.” Why was she complaining to this man? As if he had any control over his uncle’s behavior?
“It’s a gift.” The man held out a gloved hand. “I’m Tim Richmond.”
She took his hand and shook it. His big hand swallowed hers and she felt a little tingle in her chest. Tingle bells, tingle bells... It’s been way too long.
Oh, stop, she commanded herself. Anyone even remotely related to Cratchett wasn’t worth getting stirred up over. He was probably married, anyway. If he took off his glove, she was sure there’d be a sign of ownership there on his left hand.
“Sienna Moreno,” she said, all business so her hormones would get the message. “This is my son, Leo.”
“I saw him in action when I was coming up the street. That’s quite an arm you’ve got on you, son, if you can knock a grown man over,” Tim said with a wink.
Leo looked at the man suspiciously and wiped his runny nose with his coat sleeve. “I didn’t mean to hit him.”
“I know you didn’t. Don’t mind the old guy. He gets grumpy sometimes.”
Sienna cocked an eyebrow. “Sometimes?”
“Well, okay, a lot of times.”
Now Cratchett had his front door open. “Are you going to get in here and fix my sink or just stand out there jawing all day?” he hollered.
“I’m coming. Keep your shirt on,” Tim hollered back.
“His shirt is on,” Leo pointed out.
“So far,” the man said. He had a nice smile. He opened the passenger door of his truck, reached inside and pulled out a toolbox. “Don’t mind my uncle. He’s got issues.”
As if that excused his behavior? “Well, I’m going to have issues before he’s done with me. Anyway, that’s no excuse for being rude to a child.”
“He’s mean,” put in Leo.
“Yeah, sometimes he is.”
“Are you coming?” roared Cratchett.
Tim scowled in the direction of his uncle’s house. “Shut the door, unc’,” he yelled. “I’ll be with you in a minute.” Cratchett’s door slammed shut and Tim turned his attention back to Sienna. “Nice to meet you. Maybe next time it will be under better circumstances.”
“If your uncle’s around? I’m not holding my breath,” Sienna replied. “Maybe you can give him kindness lessons,” she said, adding a smile to show her grumpiness wasn’t directed at him.
“Trust me, I keep trying.” He gave a friendly nod and then made his way up Cratchett’s front walk.
Wouldn’t it be nice to get someone like him for Christmas?
Sienna pushed away the thought. Her life was full enough with Leo and her family and friends. Besides, Cupid hadn’t exactly come through for her lately. After her ex and the losers she’d dated since her divorce, she didn’t trust the little guy.
“Come on,” she said to her son. “Let’s finish stringing our lights.”
Putting up the Christmas lights was enough to make Leo forget his earlier misery. His sunny disposition quickly surfaced once the front porch and windows were glowing with multicolored bulbs.
Sienna, too, was pleased with how pretty their house looked. There were certainly benefits to living in a gorgeous small town like Icicle Falls, and the home she was able to provide for her son was one of them.
An older couple from the neighborhood strolled by and waved. “Your house looks lovely,” the woman called.
“Thanks,” Sienna called back.
At