IT WASN'T Jack's fault. The boy had always had horrible timing.
But it was still disappointing. The conversation with Nat had seemed to be heading somewhere interesting.
"I just said," Cyrus said as he stopped Jack from stealing an egg roll, "that we should thank Nat for the wonderful Christmas."
A holiday that would have been even better if the budding moment between him and their decorator hadn't been interrupted, of course.
"It's awesome," Jack agreed. "But it would be awesome-er if I wasn't starving."
Ah, the honesty of children.
"You just ate your own body weight in candy," Cyrus noted.
"Actually, sugar metabolizes very quickly, especially in children," Gigi replied, clearly not intimidated by her father. "We learned that in health class."
"How about the not-eating-candy part?" Cyrus asked. "Did they forget to teach you that?"
"I must have been distracted," Gigi replied with a laugh. "Sugar can do that to you."
"Sounds like it's time for some real food," Nat said while she softly clapped her hands to get their attention. "Let's take everything to the dining room and dig in."
Cyrus followed her lead and took a deep breath.
"Are you going to eat with us?" Jack asked her as he grabbed the egg roll plate.
"Yes, she is," Cyrus said, grateful that Nat was with them. His kids would behave as long as there was another adult in the room.
At least, he hoped they would. Jack had already skillfully commandeered the egg rolls.
"Why does everyone here eat Chinese on Christmas Eve?" Gigi asked. "It's a weird tradition for Christmas town."
Cyrus sighed. Maybe "behave" was too strong a term.
"People do it in Manhattan—" he started.
But Nat's laugh interrupted him. "Yes, it is a bit strange."
"My friend Moshe does it," Jack said. "It's not weird."
"We're trying to mix it up a little. We have turkey and stuffing every other day of the year." Nat explained as she carried the orange beef and kung pao chicken to the dining room. "And people like a change. It started when Joel and Noah moved into town. They started the tradition and everyone else enthusiastically followed. There's only so much turkey a body can eat, after all."
Cyrus followed her with the bowls of rice and lo mein. The dining room was a grand space with Stickley chairs circling a round oak table under an artsy antler chandelier. Like the rest of the house, it was a bit too traditional for his taste, but he liked that someone had taken great care outfitting the place. The green and red upholstery was very nice. He looked down at his plate. Yes, the china matched the chairs.
Someone with a great eye for detail had decorated this house.
And he had the feeling that someone was Natividad Quinn.
He put down the bowls on the table. "Do you have the dishes, Gigi?"
"Yes," she answered from the kitchen. "And the cutlery. Don't let Jack finish the egg rolls."
"Don't worry," Cyrus said, glancing at the plate. "He hasn't—"
But he had. The plate was almost empty, and Jack had a guilty look on his face.
"We still have dumplings," Cyrus shouted to Gigi.
"Jaaaaack," Gigi whined. "Whyyyyyyy?"
"They are really good," Jack said. "There's two left. I'll take them if you don't want them."
"Don't move a muscle, Jack," Gigi ordered. "Daddy, protect my egg rolls."
Cyrus sighed. Somehow, mealtimes were a lot more organized when Leah was around. The kids ate quietly and they discussed schoolwork and whatever new spy technology Gigi had found on YouTube that day.
It wasn't always exciting, but at least there were no egg-roll cataclysms.
He probably should exert some control here, but he was unsure about how to do it. He also had no clue how Nat was taking the dinnertime chaos. He sneaked a peek to get his answer.
His decorator was laughing. Then Gigi walked in with the plates and Nat covered her mouth to hide her merriment.
"It's not funny. Wars have begun this way," Cyrus said, smiling and moving the egg rolls plate away from Jack.
"I just hadn't visualized you as the protector of the Christmas egg rolls," Nat said.
He chuckled. He didn't have faith on his parenting skills, but "egg roll protector" didn't sound half-bad.
"It's my superhero alter ego," Cyrus said, serving food for Jack—lo mein with no vegetables and some orange chicken sauce on the side.
Jack's eyes narrowed. "Does that make me a supervillain?"
"Obviously," Gigi said with a sulk, putting the last couple of egg rolls on her plate. "You're the Egg Roll Bandido."
"No," Jack said. "I want to be Doctor Egg Roll Doom."
"You certainly live up to the name, and the crime," Gigi commented.
Cyrus wondered how to defuse the situation. It wasn't too bad yet, but he knew from experience that his kids' teasing could escalate quickly.
"So what were you guys watching?" Nat asked.
"It's a really cute Christmas movie," Gigi said, shoving an egg roll into her mouth. "I think it was filmed here. It's about this man who retires to a little Christmas town to run a tree farm."
"A tree farm?" Cyrus muttered to Nat. "Am I correct in assuming I know who made this movie?"
"Not necessarily," Nat said. "A lot of movies filmed here have tree farms. It's a popular theme."
"Anyway," Gigi continued. "He's really happy in his farm with his German Shepherd and his prized Balsam Fir hybrids. I think that's what they're called."
"Okay, that one might be Noah's," Nat whispered. "He has a thing for Balsams Firs."
"Of course he does," Cyrus replied, picking peppers out of Jack's lo mein.
Gigi cleared her throat.
"Sorry," Nat apologized. "Keep going."
Gigi nodded. "And it turns out—"
"He's a spy," Jack shouted.
Gigi glared at him. "Spoiler much?"
Jack paid no attention. "And there's a girl spy chasing him."
"In Christmas Town?" Cyrus asked Nat as he put the now de-peppered plate in front of his son.
Nat nodded. "I'm starting to remember this one. Noah wanted to bomb the town hall but they wouldn't give him a permit."
"And she's trying to get him to spy again," Gigi continued. "But they fall in love during Christmas."
"Not surprisingly," Cyrus muttered, grabbing the last plate and serving himself a generous serving of lo mein.
Gigi made a face. "It's cute, but not realistic. A real CIA agent wouldn't be caught that easily. Their training at the Farm is better than that."
"Oh, don't start," Jack muttered.
Gigi glared at him. "That's just not how the assets are handled, Jack."
"Anyway, eventually the bad guys show up," Jack said.
Nat nodded. "They were the ones bombing the town hall. I think Noah ended up using a smoke effect."
Gigi threw up her hands. "Can you stop it with the spoilers?"
"Nat asked." Jack said as he looked down at Gigi's plate. "Are you sure you want that last egg roll?"
"Yes, Mr. Bandido, I'm very sure," Gigi said, putting a protective arm around her food.
"Behave," Cyrus said, cutting into his chicken.
Notwithstanding their animated conversation, Jack and Gigi were steadily wolfing down their food. True Manhattanites, his kids knew about Chinese food. If they were gobbling down Madame Joy's, it had to be good.
He took a bite and the spicy citrus taste hit his tastebuds. The kids were correct. Madame Joy's was amazing.
"Are there more noodles?" Jack asked, proffering his now-empty plate.
"Yes," Nat said, reaching for the lo mein plate.
That plate was not as full as Cyrus would have liked. Next time, he'd order more Chinese food.
The next time? Suddenly that prospect seemed very important to him.
"Looks like we won't have leftovers," Gigi said. "Hand me a dumpling before Jack makes a move."
Cyrus spooned out a dumpling and placed it on her plate. Then he served himself one, just in case.
"You won't need leftovers," Nat said. "You have turkey and stuffing and mashed potatoes in the fridge. All you have to do is heat it up."
That sounded deceptively simple. But he'd have to spend an hour or two going through the list of instructions the Holiday Lake Inn had left in the kitchen. It was several pages long and involved different temperatures, plus the addition of milk. It probably wasn't beyond his capabilities—
Gigi snorted. "Leah better come back tonight, or we will starve."
"Oh, ye of little faith," Cyrus muttered.
"We were there when you burnt Jell-O, Dad," Jack noted.
"How do you still remember that?" Cyrus asked. "You were practically a newborn."
"He was five years old," Gigi replied. "And childhood scars are slow to heal."
"It could happen to anyone," Nat said, bending over her plate, again trying to hide her laughter.
"I don't suppose I could call you up for help," Cyrus asked.
Nat shook her head. "I don't think you want to do that. My track record with stoves is far from good."
"Go on," he prompted. "I dare you to beat my Jell-O misadventure."
Nat sighed. "I once tried to hard-boil eggs and they exploded. Fifteen eggs. I was cleaning egg whites all over the kitchen for two days."
"Cool," Jack said. "How did you do that?"
A frisson of alarm ran down Cyrus' spine. Did he really want Jack to learn how make eggs explode? It seemed like dangerous knowledge for a ten-year-old to possess.
Nat shrugged. "I wanted to decorate them for Easter, and didn't know you weren't supposed to microwa—"
"That's classified information," Cyrus interrupted.
But his son was not so easily deterred. "Maybe we can come back for Easter and you can teach me how to do it."
"Why wait? Don't we have Christmas cookies to bake?" Gigi asked. "Can those be turned into weapons?"
"No," Cyrus said. "They absolutely cannot."
But Nat tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Actually, now that you mention it..."
"Don't give her any more ideas," Cyrus warned. "The Free World is at stake."
"At high enough temperatures," Gigi said with relish. "Sugar is flammable."
Nat's eyes widened in alarm. Cyrus didn't blame her. Gigi's interests could be intimidating.
The Christmas Queen opened her mouth to say something, but then her phone buzzed. She fished it out of her pocket, looked at the screen, and frowned.
Cyrus sighed. Was that a rescue call? He wouldn't blame her if it was. After all, it was Christmas Eve, even if it was one of the nicest he'd ever had. She had family and friends in town and probably had better things to do than watch Christmas movies with a client and his kids.
It was inevitable. Nat would leave soon and the prospect was displeasing in the extreme. He couldn't, however, think of a way to keep her here. Nat would leave, Leah would still be out romancing her Christmas tree farmer, and he would be left with a super-smart wannabe spy who was trying to weaponize Christmas cookies and her egg-roll-consuming sidekick.
Hopefully he'd be able to handle it.