She watched the family as the kids packed the snowman with more and more snow, until eventually the lumpy head collapsed on one side and rolled off into the slush below. The younger kid’s face screwed up for a minute, like he might cry, but then the mom bounced him up to her hip and murmured something that made him laugh instead. They were still laughing as they left the Snow Globe, and Lauren stared at the doorway, lost in thought.
Next to her, Asa cleared his throat. “You can let four more people in,” he said. “Since they left.”
“Oh.” Lauren turned in the wrong direction before orienting herself to where a few people stood in line for entrance to the Snow Globe. She waved in a group of three but then after that was a couple, and Lauren glanced back at Asa. He waved his hand in a go ahead gesture, and she stepped back to allow the couple to enter, too.
“You’re the one who told me no more than twenty,” she said.
He shrugged. “One more won’t be the end of the world.”
“But then what’s the point of having a limit?”
The entire time they’d been in the Snow Globe, he’d been standing with his hands clasped behind his back, surveying the guests with a slightly bored expression. She knew it was probably part of the job, mastering that ignore me, I’m not even here type of demeanor, but it was driving her crazy.
“You’d be one of those people who bring eleven items to the ten items or fewer line at the grocery store, wouldn’t you?”
“No,” Asa said. “But I also wouldn’t be one of those people who count every single item of the person in front of them.”
Lauren started to protest, but she could already see the corner of his mouth quirk. She’d tried to get a rise out of him, and instead he’d gotten one out of her. Once again, he was winning.
She kicked at the snow with the toe of her ballet flat. She did like the sound of it, that cold crunch. But just from watching people interact with it, she could see that it was a sorry replica of the real thing. She bent down, scooping some into her hand.
“They should call this place the Snow Cone,” she said. “That’s what this stuff reminds me of.”
“There’s an idea,” Asa said. “Dribble a bunch of different-colored syrups all over the place, let in all the kids at once, lock the doors. Their parents can go shopping and pick them up half an hour later coming down from their sugar high. We could charge a fortune.”
“Such a relief that you’re already thinking of your presentation,” Lauren said. “I was worried you were going to come sniffing around the night before, wanting one of my cast-offs.”
The snow was making her hand numb, but she had to admit that there was something about holding it, about experiencing such a completely different texture and temperature from what she was used to. She closed her fingers around it, letting it squish between her fingers.
“So I take it you have an idea for yours.”
As if she’d share it with him. And she definitely wasn’t about to share that she’d spent hours brainstorming on her commute to work, in the shower, at her desk, with so far . . . nothing to show for it.
The hem of her cardigan sleeve was now cold and clammy from the melting snow, but still she scooped up another handful. She molded it into a round ball, suddenly understanding why people might be tempted to start snowball fights in here. She wished she could chuck this one right at Asa’s face, just to see how he’d react.
His eyes were hooded as he watched her. It was almost as if he knew what she was thinking, was daring her to throw it.
“It must be good,” he continued. “Was that what your phone call was about?”
She had to think for a minute before she made the connection—when he’d come into her office earlier and she’d been pumping her fist. At least this suggested he hadn’t actually heard the content of her call, or figured out that it was technically not work-related.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she said. Great. What a classic comeback. What was next, I’m rubber, you’re glue?
Asa broke off momentarily to gesture toward a young couple who’d started to make out in one corner. “Aren’t you going to break that up?”
“Why—because I’m such a wet blanket?”
His brows drew together. “No . . .” he said, drawing the word out. “Because it’s part of the job? We try to keep things PG here in the Snow Globe.”
Right. Lauren glanced over at the couple. They were really going at it by now. The guy’s hands were wandering dangerously close to a place that would definitely bump the rating to PG-13 at least.