Free Tidings of Great Boys by Shelley Adina Page B

way into the sitting room, where my parents served drinks when company came.
    “I think I’m broken,” Shani groaned, heaving the last box of lights in through the door. “I thought you were supposed to have
     manservants around here for this stuff.”
    “Not anymore. Mr. Gillie is in his sixties, so he’s not going to do much more than the heavy housework and a bit of groundskeeping.
     Cheer up. By New Year’s you’ll be in fabulous shape.”
    “Or I’ll be sleeping in the kitchen and not moving from the ground floor.”
    “It would have gone faster with Gillian and Carly,” Lissa said. “If we do setup, guess who gets to do teardown. Heh.”
    “Let them have their fun,” I said. “That way I get kudos for being a brilliant hostess. Lissa, come with me, all right? We’ll
     grab some clippers from the mudroom and get the cedar branches. Shani, you untangle the twinkle lights and round up all the
     candles you can find. I think there are boxes of them in a closet somewhere.”
    At the back door, I handed Lissa a pair of Wellingtons and a coat, put on my own, and stepped outside. She lifted her head
     as we crunched across the lawn in the direction of the lake. “It feels like snow.”
    “How would you know? Don’t tell me it snows at the beach.”
    “I have been in more places than just the beach, you know. Like here, for instance, last year. And I’m pretty good at eyeballing
     weather. When you surf, you have to be.”
    “I’ll give you that, then.” I looked up at the gray, lowering clouds, fat and ragged at the bottom. “I think you’re right.
     I’d much rather have a white Christmas than a horrid muddy brown one.”
    From somewhere deep in Lissa’s clothes, I heard the familiar line from
Firefly
. She pulled her cell phone out.
    “Mom! Where are you? How come you didn’t fly? No kidding. I suppose this is a crazy week at the airports. I’m glad you got
     a rental car, anyway. Be careful when you get to Edinburgh—it looks like it’s going to snow here. Oh, it does? Trust Dad to
     get one of those. He’s been on enough shoots in impossible places to know. And you’ll get a chance to talk on the drive up
     here.”
    Long pause.
    “Oh. He is? You did? Well, uh, that was nice of you. Sure, I’ll ask.” She pressed the phone against her chest and looked at
     me. “Is it okay if they bring one more? One of the production assistants from
The Middle Window
shoot is hitching a ride with them.”
    “That’s a fair hitch. It’s a ten-hour drive.”
    “No one could get flights up here on such short notice. He lives in Edinburgh but he’ll be all alone for Christmas and they
     just wondered…”
    “Of course he can come.” I pictured some bespectacled geek with a transmitter in his ear and a clipboard and bad skin. Poor
     chap.
    Lissa nodded and lifted the phone. “Sure, that’s fine. There’s plenty of room here, so no worries about that. Tell Alasdair
     hi for me.” Another long pause. “That’s okay, Mom. She knows you tried. And Mac has an alternate plan to get her up here,
     anyway. I don’t know—but you can be sure it’s mapped out with military efficiency.” She smiled at me. “Safe driving, okay?
     Okay, love you three times. ’Bye.”
    Lissa snapped the phone shut as we took a fork in the path and ducked under the trees, heading toward the lake. “She says
     she’s sorry she couldn’t convince your mom.”
    “She shouldn’t be. It was kind of her to try. So what’s this about the production assistant person? Do your parents collect
     the lost and lonely at holidays the way my dad does?” She hesitated just long enough to make me ask, “What’s the matter? Do
     you know the guy?”
    She nodded.
    “Is he horrible? Is he going to spoil our fun? If so, you can call her back and ask them to push him into the firth. This
     Christmas is going to be perfect and I won’t have—”
    “No, no. He’s fine.” She took the pair of clippers I handed her and began