“I thought the ‘defeat in battle’ clause only came into play in cases where one vampire kills another,” I said as I opened the envelope.
“They were that happy to have Bob in custody,” Jane said.
I damn near dropped the slim slip of paper when I saw all of the zeros. “This is the price on Bob’s head?”
“Plus tip,” Jane reminded me.
“That’s a heck of a tip,” I marveled. “This is . . . this is insane. I didn’t know you could fit that many digits in an amount box.”
“I had to have the accounting department process it twice,” Dick said with a hint of childlike glee.
I just stared at the check. I didn’t have to worry about Danny’s college tuition. I could buy us the biggest house in Half-Moon Hollow. I didn’t have to worry about depending on anyone. I was completely independent. I didn’t have to worry about money. And thanks to the delicate peace I’d started with Marge, the specter of my in-laws and their threat to custody of my son was gone. And I didn’t have to worry about my position in the community, because my community had changed.
It was going to be a merry freaking Christmas indeed.
Dick bussed my cheek. “Enjoy your spoils of war, sweetie.”
“See you at Christmas dinner at my house?” Jane asked.
“Danny can’t wait,” I said.
Grinning, I peeked around the backdrop, watching Danny take his big bow. I clapped loudly, whistling through my teeth. In the back of the auditorium, I saw Finn sitting in the last row. He saw me and grinned, pointing to Max’s camera. Got it, he mouthed.
I waved back and whispered, “Thanks.”
A good bullfighter didn’t back down from aggressive livestock or cheek kisses. Especially when those kisses came from his mamaw.
“You were such a good matador!” Marge cooed, smooching Danny’s cheeks. He was a man about it and accepted it without wiping them off.
“Thanks, Mamaw,” he said, holding up his accessories. “Did you see my cape?”
“I did,” Marge said, nodding. “Mom did a wonderful job sewing it for you.”
“Thanks.”
“My sister is having Christmas Eve dinner at her house, and she would love it if you would both be able to join us,” Marge said.
“Christmas isn’t at your house this year?”
“I’m not up for hosting this year. I’m actually looking forward to being a guest for once,” Marge said.
I smiled at her, a little sad. I’d put a lot of thought into our holiday schedule this year. I didn’t want Marge to be alone for her first Les-less Christmas season. But I wanted to try to make Danny’s holiday as normal as possible. He’d agreed readily to waking up in the wee hours so we could have Christmas morning early enough for me. (Honestly, it was only an adjustment of an hour or so from his normal Christmas-morning wake-up call.)
“Actually, while I’m sure Danny would enjoy it, I don’t think Christmas dinner would work for me, what with the smells of the food,” I said. The also, your relatives drive me insane was silent but implied. “But we’ve been thinking about Christmas, and we were wondering, what would you think of coming over first thing Christmas morning, after I go to sleep for the day, so you can have all day with him and his new toys?”
“Yes!” Danny crowed. “Santa’s going to bring me all kinds of toys, Mamaw. A castle with real shooting cannons and a remote-controlled fire truck with a real siren!”
“Sirens and cannons, hmm?” Marge asked.
I grinned and nodded. “Lots of battery-powered noise.”
“This is payback for that percussion set we got him when he was three, isn’t it?”
“A little bit,” I agreed.
“It’s going to be the best Christmas ever!” Danny cried, raising his hands and hopping up and down.
“You say that every year,” Marge reminded him.
“And I’m always right!”
“Hey, Danny!” Harley came barreling toward us, practically clotheslining my son.
Marge’s eyes went wide as the boys struggled to right themselves, hindered by their costumes. Wade and I had agreed to take the sumo and the matador out for cheeseburgers and milkshakes at the Coffee Spot. And we’d agreed to let them wear their costumes, because we didn’t get nearly enough stares when we went out together.
Wade was shrugging into his coat, watching the kids with amusement. “Hi, Mrs. Stratton.”
“Wade,” Marge said, clearing her throat. “Harley, you did a lovely job playing a sumo wrestler.”
“Thank you!” Harley exclaimed. “We’re gonna go get milkshakes. Except for Miss Libby, because eating people food makes her throw up. Like buckets and buckets of throw-up.”