The streets of downtown Hillside were a sea of red and white as Santas from all walks of life paraded past happy families who cheered them on from the sidewalks. Christmas music blared over loudspeakers. I cracked up when “Grandma Got Ran Over By A Reindeer” started, and a group of six people, one Santa, four reindeer, and one person in a frumpy house gown and gray wig, reenacted the song for the crowd.
Ezra’s smile was as big as mine.
A couple strolling past us were eating candied pecans from a paper cone.
I tugged on Ezra’s arm. “Ooo! Let’s go get some nuts.”
The cinnamon-roasted candied pecans reminded me of my childhood. My father would buy them for me at the fair every year. He liked the pecans best because he said, “they don’t break my teeth like the almonds.”
I used to think it was a cautionary tale because he had a partial denture for his two front teeth. It was only after I got older that I found out that he’d been assaulted while on duty, and his teeth had been broken during the struggle. He’d spun the tale to make his tooth loss less scary for me. Joke was on him. I had a fear of eating almonds for years.
Lynn had called us before we’d left Thorny Creek Inn and told us she and Hal would meet us at the parade. We hadn’t been able to find them, but honestly, Ezra wasn’t looking that hard.
I underestimated the extent of the variety of food involved in this event. There were food trucks with hot fried apple pies served with vanilla ice cream and warm caramel sauce, loaded baked potatoes, giant cinnamon rolls, and Bavarian pretzels.
“I was thinking way too small with the nuts,” I told Ezra.
He chuckled. “We’ll get anything you want.”
“I knew there was a reason I keep you around.”
He hooted a laugh. “I thought it was for my butt.”
I looked around, only a little embarrassed that someone might’ve overheard him, but everyone was too busy watching the spectacle of Santas. I leaned in close to Ezra and smirked, “The butt definitely makes the top five.”
He looped his arm across my shoulders. “Top two, at the very least. So, what’s it going to be? Fried pies or giant cinnamon rolls?”
“You know me too well.” I studied the lines in front of both trucks and decided on the warm dessert with the least amount of people. “Fried apple pie and a hot spiced cider.”
His eyes twinkled with mirth. “Good choice.”
While we were waiting in line, an air horn blared, and over the loudspeakers, someone said, “Are you all ready for this?” Then a marching band of Santas came around a corner, playing an instrumental of “Let’s Get Ready to Rumble” from the movie Space Jam. People all around us started dancing and yelling out loud, “Yeah!” when appropriate, as the brass section really took it home.
Ezra grinned. “That’s new.” He laughed. “Not the song, but the fact that the high school marching band has gotten involved.”
I moved my hips back and forth to the beat. “They’re great.”
A woman dancing in line in front of us said, “They’ve done it the past couple of years. It’s a real hit.” She fist-pumped the sky and shouted, “yeah!” with the song.
“This is awesome,” I told Ezra. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Suddenly distracted, he muttered his acknowledgment. He was staring down the sidewalk, and I picked up on what had drawn his attention. His cousin Penny, dressed in full elf regalia—red tights, green pointed shoes, a long-sleeved green tunic, and a green and red striped hat with a white ball on the end. She seemed to be in a passionate argument with someone dressed in a Santa suit a block down from us. Her hands were expressively telling the not-so-jolly man in a red suit where he could go. Hint: It wasn’t the North Pole.
“Maybe I should go check on her,” Ezra said.
“You mean snoop?” I asked.
He arched a brow at me. “Exactly.”
The pies and cider could wait. “I’m in.”
We gave up our places in line and stayed close to the buildings as we made our way toward Penny. Another Santa, who’d had a little too much to drink if I had to guess, staggered up the sidewalk toward us. He bumped into me as he passed by.
“Pardon,” he mumbled.
He smelled of peppermint, buttered popcorn, and bourbon. It was a strangely appealing combination, and the aroma triggered my smell-o-vision. We were moving at a quick pace, so I reached out for Ezra to keep from falling as the memory took over.
“Don’t be such a wuss, man. This is the easiest job we’ll ever take on,” a man says loud enough to be heard at the table over the loud music. He sits in a dark bar in a corner booth with another man. “And the best part,” he spreads his hands wide, “there’s zero downside.”
“I don’t know,” the other man says. He has a John Deere ball cap on. “If we get caught—”
“We won’t,” the lead man reiterates. “Besides, we have someone on the inside.” He lifts his drink to the table. “What say you?”
“I say, I hope my wife never finds out,” the guy in the cap replied.
“Whipped!” the first guy whooped.
“Damn right.” He slugged back the drink. “Let’s do it.”
When the vision of partying men faded, I found I wasn’t holding onto Ezra. Instead, I had grabbed a uniformed officer, who looked completely nonplussed.
My eyes widened. “I’m so sorry.”
The cop was a young man, mid-twenties at the most. He had dark hair and brown eyes, and he looked like he was annoyed that he was spending the day babysitting the Santa Walk crowd. “Are you all right, miss?” he asked. “Maybe you should sit down.”
“I’m okay,” I told him, scanning ahead for Ezra. I saw him closing in on Penny and the disgruntled Claus.
Santa grabbed Penny by the arm, and she jerked away. Ezra was on the bearded jerk, shoving him up against a brick building.
“No, stop!” Penny yelled loud enough I could hear her over the marching band. “Let him go.”
The young officer’s attention diverted from me to the scene. “Excuse me.” He side-stepped me and headed toward the action. I didn’t wait for an invitation, and I followed closely after.
The officer, with his taser drawn, ordered Ezra and Santa to put their hands against the wall. Yikes. This was escalating fast.
“This is a misunderstanding,” Penny said. “Ezra’s my cousin. He thought he was helping.”
“This guy was assaulting her,” Ezra added, even as he complied with the officer’s request to put his hands against the wall.
“He wasn’t,” Penny disagreed. “I work for him.” She threw her hands up in the air. “It wasn’t that big of a deal.”
“I want to press charges,” Boss-man Santa demanded. “He threw me against the wall.”
“You grabbed my cousin first,” Ezra countered.
“Both of you shut up,” the cop ordered.
Oh boy. I held my hands out in a “calm down” manner and said, “I think we all need to take a breath.”
The police officer stared at me. “What do you have to do with this?”
I raised my hands defensively. “I’m with the non-Santa.” And since Ezra hadn’t said it, I added, “He’s a police detective.”
The officer looked befuddled. “For Hillside?”
“No,” Ezra admitted. “I’m just visiting family.”
“Let them go, Rogers,” a male voice enjoined from behind me. I whipped around. Rob Phillips, the soon-to-be ex-brother-in-law, stood behind me. He waved his hand at the rookie cop. “In the spirit of the holiday.”
Officer Rogers’ lips thinned with irritation, but then he nodded. “Fine. Stay out of trouble,” he told Ezra and the Santa before he rolled his eyes and walked off.
Soon as the policeman was gone, Santa pushed himself away from the wall and stormed off.
“Wait!” Penny hollered after him. Before Ezra could stop her, she took off down the street in Boss Santa’s direction.
“Well, that was a waste of time,” Ezra uttered as he watched her go.
Some people don’t want saving, I thought. And Penny seemed like one of them.
Ezra glared at Rob. “What do you want?”
I understood his anger. I felt much the same way when Gilly’s ex-Gio was caught cheating, and she kicked him out. Frankly, I thought Ezra was being fairly polite.
“Come on, Easy. We used to be friends,” Rob cajoled. “Can’t we have a civil conversation?”
“You know you hurt my sister,” Ezra told him.
Rob spread his hands. “Then you only know half the story.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Ezra touched my elbow. “Come on. Let’s get that apple pie.”
“Ez,” Rob said. “Can we talk about it?”
Four guys in full Santa suits, including beards and mustaches, joined us. “Easy, you need some help kicking this guy’s ass?” the shortest of the four said. He pulled down his fake white beard and took off his hat. He had reddish-blond hair and deep dimples.
Ezra’s expression darkened, then his eyes widened, and he smiled. “Rollo.” He shook the man’s hand. “It’s been a while, bud. How the heck are you doing?”
“Fantastic,” Rollo said. “Living the dream.”
Rob shook his head and walked off.
Ezra gave a small victory smile and then introduced me to the newcomers. “Nora, this is my cousin Rollo.”
“Belonging to your Aunt Lettie and Uncle Orsen,” I said.
“Yeah,” Rollo chortled. “You’re good.”
I gave him a quick wink. “That’s the word on the streets.”
From what Ezra had told me, Rollo was Penny’s younger brother. There was another one, even younger, named Baxter.
“These are my buddies Blake, Tom-Tom, and Howdy.” He pointed to a tall, lanky fellow, a guy with dark brown hair, an upturned nose that made him look a little piggish, and a waist tire, and finally, a guy with dark hair and eyes, a narrow face and an aquiline nose, the combo making him look Mediterranean.
“Howdy,” I greeted, unable to help myself. I grimaced. “Sorry. It’s been a weird day, and I’m feeling a little punchy.”
“I get it all the time.” Howdy smiled and inclined his head to me. “I don’t mind.”
I could smell the bourbon mint combo again. “What is that scent?” I asked. “It smells like someone got popcorn and a candy cane drunk.”
Tom-Tom pointed at a stand not too far from us. “That’s crazy accurate,” he said. “Candy cane popcorn balls with a bourbon butter glaze. It tastes as good as it smells.”
“Thanks, Tom-Tom.” The man gave me a smile and a thumbs-up. In my head, I was figuring out how to turn the aroma combo into a soap for my shop.
“Hoo boy,” Rollo groaned. “There’s our dads.” He pointed in the direction of the street and laughed. “You have to admire their willingness to make fools of themselves every year.”
We’d seen a hundred-plus Santas of every variation. I wasn’t sure what the dads could do that was so embarrassing.
Ezra’s chin tucked, and he choked on a laugh. “Why is my dad green and Uncle Orsen yellow?”
I could answer the green one. “Your dad is the Grinch that stole Christmas,” I said. “See, he has hair coming off his green gloves. Hilarious.”
Ezra looked unconvinced. “And Uncle Orsen?”
Rollo supplied the answer. “Homer Simpson. The episode where Homer takes a job as a mall Santa.”
I’d never watched the Simpsons, but I would’ve had to have been born under a rock not to know about the cartoon. The green and yellow Santas waved when they passed by us. We all waved back.
“We better go,” Rollo said. “We’re part of the Grand Marshall escort.”
“See you at dinner tonight,” Ezra told him. After the four men left, Ezra nudged me. “Pie?” he asked.
“Definitely.”