How the Hitman Stole Christmas

Autumn comes back to the counter, drying her hands on a hand towel. “That sounds nice, Uncle Arlo.”

“Oh, yes. Lorna’s balish cookies… The cherry ones were always my favorite. It doesn’t feel quite like Christmas without them.”

Autumn’s smile fades, a flash of melancholy crossing her features.

The last thing I want is her to be sad, so I tell her we need to go before the shop closes.

“What shop?” she asks.

“You wanted to explore downtown, didn’t you? No time like the present. There’s a clothing store Nora told me about on Main Street, we can stop there and you can pick up an extra outfit if you want to. Then we’ll go to that malt shop you wanted to check out for dinner.”

“But we’re still making cookies,” she says, gesturing to the counter.

Nora waves her off. “Oh, we’re practically finished. You go on ahead, we’ll just finish up these last few and then we’re cleaning up for the night, anyway.”

“There aren’t any more cookies to make?”

Nora shakes her head.

Autumn glances back at Arlo. “What about… do we make balish cookies, whatever those are?”

“Oh, no,” Mom says, shaking her head. “Arlo likes those, but nobody else does. We have plenty of cookies, dear. Go out and have fun with Jasper.”

I can tell Autumn is reluctant to leave, but I grab her hand and drag her out of there, anyway.Main Street is all aglow with the sights and sounds of Christmas.

Just about every shop window is decorated. Garland is hung around the storefronts, lit with strings of lights and dripping with berries and pinecones. Big red bows are hung at the corners. Some shops have strings of ornaments hanging up too, or snowy scenes painted on the windows themselves.

And then there are the carolers.

Yes, the carolers.

Victorian carolers stroll through town, belting out Christmas songs like we’ve stepped between the pages of a Dickens novel.

It’s clear the people in this town really like Christmas.

Me, I’ve never liked Christmas, but even I acknowledge this place really sets the mood.

Autumn walks next to me, completely taken with the romance of this small town holiday paradise. Her fingers are intertwined with mine, our hands swinging a bit as she peers into yet another shop window.

“We should stop here, too. It looks like they have a lot of stuff that would make good Christmas gifts.”

“You came with Christmas gifts,” I remind her.

She side-eyes me at the way I worded that. “Like a Barbie doll that just so happens to come with cool accessories?”

A faint smile tugs at my lips. Her disgruntlement is cute. “Hey, I needed those accessories, and you were on sale—I couldn’t resist.”

“Hey!” Autumn wrinkles up her nose and tries elbowing me in the side.

I easily dodge it and grab her, pulling her into my side and draping my arm across her shoulders. “You know I’m only teasing you.”

“I’m not so sure,” she tosses back, but without genuine annoyance. “Maybe you do think I’m a doll. The first thing you did was buy me new clothes. Well, underwear, but… still.”

Glancing down at the shopping bag dangling from my other hand, I remark, “And I just bought you more. Man, I sure do buy you a lot of clothes for someone who much prefers you naked.”

Autumn smiles and snuggles into me appreciatively as we walk. “That was very nice of you. Thank you.”

I place an absent kiss on the crown of her head. “You’re welcome.”

“Next year I’d like a dream house and a pool,” she jokes.

“With your fifty careers, you should be able to buy one.”

Pulling back, she cocks a skeptical eyebrow at me. “You know about Barbie’s many careers?”

“I have little sisters, and I was Santa Claus when they were kids. Of course I do.”

Autumn grins, leaning into me again. “That’s adorable. I love that.” She misses a beat, then sighs the way she does when something bums her out. “Well, some of it. I wish someone would’ve been your Santa Claus, but I find it pretty knee-weakening that even as a kid yourself, you made sure your sisters didn’t have the same experience.”

I appreciate the sentiment, but I’m not of the opinion I deserve any accolades for taking care of my own family—someone had to do it.

In an attempt to change the subject and get her away from anything that makes her even remotely sad, I point across the street at a warmly lit storefront with a big, white wedding dress on display. “Looks like that might be a bridal shop. We’ll have to come back here when it’s warmer, to plan the wedding.”

Falling into sync and smiling, she lobs back, “Well, obviously. I won’t marry you at all if the wedding isn’t in Stillwater.”

I nod my understanding. “A woman’s gotta have her standards.”

She lets the joke go, sighing blissfully as she looks around. “I really do love this town. I didn’t even pick Syracuse for myself, I just followed some guy there. How crazy would it be if I actually looked into moving here?”