Clomping through the calf-deep snow, Kyle stopped right in front of the snowman. Was that red licorice? He loved red licorice. He popped it off and into his mouth.
Now, for the flashlight. He dug out a hole in the front of the protruding belly. He could stick the flashlight in, but it was obvious that the snow had been disturbed.
Okay, that wouldn’t work. What next?
He pulled off one of the twig arms and tried to cram the flashlight in the hole, but he soon saw that wouldn’t work, either. Even if he could push the flashlight into the tiny hole, he’d never be able to push the twig back in to hide it.
The head. He lifted it off and sat it next to the body. Digging busily, he scooped out a hole in the top of the body and laid the flashlight in.
Perfect. Now he’d just put the head back on. Reaching down, he was startled by a woman’s angry yell.
“Hey. What in the heck are you doing to my snowman?”
Looking up, he watched a woman fly up the sidewalk toward him.
Guilt grabbed him. He hadn’t really done anything wrong. After all, the snowman was on his property. Still, she seemed very upset. “Is this your snowman? Why did you build it here?”
She dashed up to the snowman and stared at it, disbelief and horror apparent on her face. She pointed to the empty house beside his. Too late, he noticed the unlit Christmas icicle lights dangling across the front.
“I just bought this property.” She turned on him with fury in her eyes. “What kind of a person tears apart snowmen?”
She reached for the head.
Feeling really stupid, Kyle said, “Here, let me--“
Leaving the head where it lay, she snapped her hands onto her hips. “You have done quite enough already. Please leave. And please do not tell me you live anywhere around here.”
He supposed she meant to look intimidating, but he was struck by her appearance. Why did she look so familiar? He’d swear he’d seen her before, somewhere. Her long red hair flared out from under a purple snow cap. He wondered if her incredibly dark green eyes would lighten when she wasn’t so angry.
And because she was so enraged, he certainly wasn’t about to admit he lived next door. Instead, he said, “I’d like to help you fix the snowman.”
She crossed her arms and drew herself up to her full height, which must have been five foot five, tops. “No. Please go ruin someone else’s decorations. And take your flashlight with you.”
He stepped back and caught the tossed flashlight. Fine. He’d offered to help and he’d tried to apologize. If she didn’t want to accept either, there wasn’t much he could do about it.
He stepped onto the sidewalk. He wasn’t about to go home now. He’d continue on his walk, and hope she was inside when he came back around the block. Three houses farther down, he looked back to see the woman lift the snowman’s head and drop it into place. She looked up and caught him watching her.
She turned her back on him.
He turned and continued his walk. If she was still outside when he came back around, he’d have to sneak in the back door.
It was unfortunate he’d gotten off to such a poor start with his new neighbor. Especially one as attractive as this one could be--at least he assumed she could be, when she wasn’t angry and scowling.
* * *
She could still feel that man’s gaze on her back. Darn him anyway. Who did he think he was, destroying other people’s snowmen? She hadn’t seen him when she knocked on neighbors’ doors, and hoped he didn’t live nearby. It would be a shame to ruin a nice street like this with an attitude like his. That guy had better beware if she caught him on her property again.
She set the snowman’s head on top and moved it around until it settled into place.
She tipped her head in disgust. It would take forever to fix this. She lifted the twig and stuck it back in place.
With a huge sigh, she began packing snow onto the hole in the belly. Her anger kept her going. Even an hour later, when she’d repaired the snowman to her satisfaction and trudged up to her house to find a FedEx package waiting for her, leaning against the brick on her porch.
Wondering who’d already sent her a gift in her new house, she lifted the package. But it wasn’t addressed to her. It was addressed to Kyle Miller.
Kyle Miller. As in the author?
She checked the address. 501 Sycamore. Her house was 503. They lived right next door to the Kyle Miller? To the Jared Strong guy? Wait until she told the kids.
But maybe she’d better wait until she made sure this Kyle Miller was actually the author. The name could be a coincidence. Miller was a common enough name. So was Kyle.
She knew the author lived somewhere in the general area. But she’d better not jump to conclusions.