At least, from the incredulousness in his tone, that’s what Franklin believed.
Explained why their two cabins were the only ones in the whole town that weren’t decked out to the nines with Christmas decorations.
She shrugged. “I guess it’s gonna be a mountainside thing, too, this year. It’s a little earlier than I usually start, but I would’ve decorated anyway.”
“I prefer you didn’t.”
“What? Why not?”
“Because I’m not going to.”
“What’s the matter?” she pushed, a teasing note in her voice. “Don’t like Christmas?”
“No.”
Gloria blinked in surprise. Okay. That wasn’t what she had been expecting him to say. “Do you like ice cream?” she demanded.
“What? Yes. I took your bowl, didn’t I?”
“Just checking. I’ve never heard of anyone not liking Christmas before. Might as well blow my mind and tell me that you hate ice cream, too. Is it a religion thing?” she asked. “Addy said it’s just about the community being festive. Everyone does it. The decorating, I mean.”
“Not everyone,” he said again. “Thanks for the ice cream, Ms. Watson—”
“Gloria.”
“—I’m going to put it in my freezer for later. I’ll see you around.”
She knew a dismissal when she heard one. “Enjoy the ice cream, Franklin.”
“I will. Stay warm out there.”
Gloria thought of the roaring fire in his front room, and the heat in her cabin that seemed weak in comparison. She thought of the snow piling up outside and the mounds of afghans she’d be needing that night to do just that.
“Yeah. You, too.”
It snowed a lot on the mountain.
Like, a lot.
Like, Gloria stepped outside one morning, sank all the way up to her knees, then turned around and went back inside a lot.
She was used to the white stuff. During the winter months, it often snowed in the city, but this was ridiculous. It all started that late November night that she went and brought Franklin his creation. It was clear for a few days after that, the bright sun melting some of the mess while the chill high up in the mountain made it a dangerously icy disaster, only for it to snow again.
Gloria was hesitant to test her car in the nasty weather. Except for when he knocked on her door two days later to return her g
lass container, Franklin kept himself scarce. He was obviously avoiding her for some reason, the scowling, anti-Christmas hermit.
She was afraid to break her car again because then she’d have no choice but to face him. And, sure, he admitted that her ice cream was the best he ever had—and she’d scored a direct hit since he told her that cinnamon was his favorite—but he left immediately after that and, over the next few days, she barely even saw him in passing.
Of course, that was probably because she was holed up in her own cabin, slowly going stir crazy.
It was going to be a long winter.
Franklin’s truck was a beast. Unlike Gloria, he knew exactly what to expect out of a Hamlet winter. His truck had massive snow tires on it that let him gobble up the snow and the ice without worrying about skidding off the mountain. Because of that, he left for work every morning like usual, only returning if another one of the snowstorms took a nasty turn.
Which was precisely why, when Franklin arrived home earlier than normal that afternoon, she was surprised to see him. Even though it was December now and it got darker earlier, she didn’t expect him home for a couple of hours at least.
Franklin drove carefully past her, parking his truck in his drive. Once he climbed out of it, he moved around the back, heading straight for Gloria instead of going inside without saying a word.