Chapter 9 Tara

Chapter 9

Tara

T ara needed to drive off the rage, but she had to wait until she could see through the haze in front of her eyes, so she let Holly start the next leg while she put her forehead on the dashboard and breathed deeply.

When would the point come when she'd stand up to her mother and say she wasn't going to enter a classist, homophobic old snake's house, no matter who she was? When would she admit that the ends didn't always justify the means, if they made her a hypocrite?

She looked up to find Holly chugging Red Bull, driving like a bat out of hell, to the degree that was possible on the snow-covered roads. As pissed as Tara was, at herself and at Cricket, she couldn't deal with Holly's sizzling anger.

She had to somehow explain.

"There's a piece to this puzzle you don't have," Tara said, wringing her hands. "I don't think it will change your mind about the choices I've made but… it might help you understand why."

"Let's hear it," Holly said. "I would love any context for why the fuck you put up with that. Because nothing you've said so far makes that bitch worth talking to."

She didn't know where to start this story, because she'd never told it before, but she gave it a shot.

"I always hated my family, but when I was a teenager, I didn't know how to deal with that, so I ran wild and called it rebellion. Stealing cars and boats, running amok. And, in the end, arson."

Holly spit diet Red Bull out of her nose. "ARSON?"

"There are napkins inside the center console if you need one," Tara said primly. "We didn't intend to commit arson. Well. We did, but slightly less impactful arson."

"I'm going to need some more details."

"When we were seventeen, Cole and I decided it would be a great idea to write ‘Eat the Rich,' in fire, in the grass on the front lawn of our parents' country club."

"Oh no ." Holly let out a horrified little giggle. "I'm guessing it didn't go as planned?"

Tara shook her head. "The whole place burned to the ground. Thank God it was two a.m. and there was no one inside. The flames were… a nightmare. It was so fucking irresponsible and childish. It's a miracle we didn't hurt anyone. It haunts me every day. How close we came to killing people."

"Holy shit, Tara," Holly breathed. "But you didn't go to prison. Did you not get caught?"

Tara shifted in her seat, keeping her face tight and eyes glued on the road ahead of her. "Oh, we did. But my daddy is very good friends with the circuit solicitor and Cole's daddy is Nicholas Jedediah Fraser II. It didn't matter if we were caught, we were never going to do a lick of time. Cole had access to his trust fund blocked; I was sent to boarding school for my senior year. Cole reacted by becoming a criminal and I…"

"Started following every rule there is?" Holly guessed.

Tara shook her head. "No. Well, a little. Mostly I got mad. I saw that if we had been anyone else, our lives would have been over, and maybe rightly so. Not that I believe we should have gone to prison. I don't believe anyone should go to prison—prisons should be abolished—but we should have faced the same consequences as any other South Carolinian. Hell, any consequence."

Holly went silent, either digesting the fact that Tara Sloane Chadwick believed in prison abolition or had once committed arson. "How does what you do now help even the scales?" she asked finally. "Aren't you just part of the system now?"

Tara nodded. "The system needs to be dismantled, and I support the national network of activists working on that any way I can, but mostly I'm just making sure that a few people who get caught in the system get the kind of defense I would have gotten if we'd gone to trial. And, a little bit undoing the work my father's done as a prosecutor for so many years."

"That's admirable," Holly said slowly, obviously carefully choosing her words, "and doable in many ways. Why do you need to stay connected to your family to do it?"

"It would be irresponsible of me to give up my access when it can help people," Tara tried to explain. "I was handed this privilege, and it's the only way I have to use it that might do any good. Honestly, my career is the best thing I've ever done. The most joyful thing I've ever done."

Holly made a grumbling noise Tara couldn't interpret. "Are you sure you're not using them to punish yourself for the fire or something? Seeking absolution through misery?"

Tara snapped. "I don't require absolution from those people." She felt like her skin was on fire.

"Does your family hold it over your head? Have they convinced you that you don't deserve to be happ—"

Tara cut her off. "Holly, with all due respect, this is the life I've chosen. I hear that you don't agree with it. You don't need to."

Just a few minutes ago, Tara had been questioning if she, herself, agreed, but Holly's interrogation made her slam up all her defenses.

No, she didn't think she deserved better. Not because her family had told her so. Actually, once they'd paid to make all the legal trouble go away, they'd only cared that she'd been messy and gauche in her troublemaking. She wasn't using them for absolution, because she didn't think she could be absolved of the kind of reckless endangerment she'd taken part in. Punishment, though—maybe she was staying miserable as punishment. Because misery was what she deserved.

Holly cleared her throat. "This was all the big stuff, right? There's not, like, even bigger stuff you have to tell me about yourself?"

Her tone was lighter, and Tara could tell that an olive branch was being offered. She decided to take it.

"Well," Tara sighed, "I'm also a lesbian."

"What a wild coincidence! I, too, am a lesbian!" Holly joked.

After a long moment, Holly said more seriously, "Okay, you told me your big secret. It only seems fair to tell you mine. You asked me if I had any best friends or ex-girlfriends. I do have both, the same person. My ex-wife. I mean, we're not best friends anymore. We were best friends, we got married, we split up, and now we're friendly strangers."

"I didn't realize you're divorced," Tara said evenly. It was another reminder that she and Holly were, truly, mere acquaintances. It might be safer if they stayed that way, but Tara couldn't help being wildly curious about this woman and her past. She didn't ask a question, though, because she'd found that people who wanted to avoid talking about things often balked at questions but spilled all sorts of info when left with an opening.

"We met in middle school, in the comments of a Paramore LiveJournal account. We were best friends in high school, then fell in love. We got ‘married' as soon as we graduated, although not legally, obviously. When Obergefell came down, we talked about getting legally married and realized that we should probably break up instead. Divorced by twenty-two!" She made a self-deprecating face and a peace sign.

"You seem stunned," Holly said. "Is it the divorced thing, or the Paramore LiveJournal thing? Because if you speak ill of Hayley, I will end this charade right now."

Tara shook her head. "I was trying to do the math. You're a little over thirty now, right? So you've been divorced for almost ten years? Have you…" She wasn't sure how to end that sentence in a way that didn't sound judgmental, which wasn't her intention.

"Been single that whole time? I definitely wasn't celibate, but I didn't get into any relationships. Not because I wasn't over Ivy, but… we broke up mostly because she wanted to play house and I had grown up poor and didn't want to ever feel stuck, in the same way I had as a kid, in the same little Midwestern town I'd always lived in. So, I didn't want to get involved with yet another girl I would let down in the same way. I still don't want to settle down, have a white picket fence and a dog."

There was something in Holly's voice, and Tara wondered if she was still hung up on her ex. "I was actually going to ask if you've been without a best friend this whole time. Single, I can understand, but I've never been able to live without a best friend."

"Trust me, it's better this way," Holly told her. That wasn't the first time she'd referenced being a bad friend, and Tara was itching to dig deeper. What had convinced Holly that she needed to be a lone wolf?

She was going to figure it out, but she had to be subtle or Holly's walls would go up.

So instead, Tara asked, "I need to know about the fact that your name is Holly and you married a girl named Ivy. Holly and Ivy?!"

Holly laughed. "Well, Ivy never called me Holly, she called me my middle name, Siobhan, which I always wanted to go by but no one could ever pronounce."

"See?" Tara said. "You wanted to go by your middle name, too! It's not weird."

"It's not." Holly shook her head. "Although in the end, I kind of liked that only Ivy called me that. There's something about having someone call you by a name no one else in the world does that feels precious. But yeah, we did think our names were fate when we were kids. Like it was a sign that we were destined to be together. Our little dollar-store wedding with our Goodwill dresses and fake ivy leaves and my grandma's old Christmas lights. We thought it looked so sophisticated. Silly babies."

Smiling, Tara said genuinely, "It sounds beautiful."

All Tara had gotten for her high school graduation was Cole dragging her back from boarding school, since no one from her family had bothered to show up to take her home. A dollar-store wedding lit by little twinkling lights sounded, honestly, really lovely, even if they had been silly babies.

"So, there you go. I didn't go to college because I'd just gotten married and we couldn't afford it, and by the time we split up, I didn't want to. I wanted to live, as much as I could, as free as I could, for as long as I could."

"It sounds like you're living the dream," Tara said, although she couldn't imagine much of a dream life without a community, without friendships. Tara's real friends might all live in the Arctic tundra, but she needed them.

"Yes and no. I mean, it came with some sacrifices, but doesn't every life?"

Holly stopped, like she was trying to figure out how to explain. "I always said, once I was an adult, I would go by Siobhan and I wouldn't care if people didn't know how to spell it, but then…"

"You did care?" Tara guessed. "Or it was too tied up in your ex-wife?"

"Both? It was easier to have a common name waitressing, because anything that invites people to stare intently at the name tag over your boobs and comment on some personal part of you is not ideal."

"Although they do that anyway, I'm guessing," Tara said.

Holly nodded. "Oh, of course. No force in the galaxy could stop cis straight men from deciding that waitresses exist for their personal entertainment. But Siobhan? Somehow I was too tired for the fight."

Tara didn't mean to snort in disbelief, but she did.

"Yes, okay, yes, I've always been the sort of person who leads with my chin and spoils for a fight," Holly rushed on. "I rush in and ask questions later, I do things because so what and fuck people who don't like it. I had blue hair and self-done tattoos and snakebite piercings in Davenport, Iowa. But I… I don't know, I put myself out there all the way in my marriage, and when we broke up, I kind of created another version of myself so no one could see the real me. I hid Siobhan away to keep her safe."

"I wasn't going to judge you," Tara said. "Not for spoiling for a fight, or for leading with your chin. I haven't rushed in or asked questions later or done a single damn thing because so what, for a couple of decades."

It intrigued Tara, Holly's ability to, well, to do anything. To not be constantly frozen in fear and indecision. It made Tara want to know her so much more.

"So, this whole sunshine rockabilly girl thing is just a character?" Tara guessed. "You didn't learn how to do a victory roll and suddenly stop listening to My Chemical Romance or become an optimist?"

Holly's laugh ricocheted through the car.

"I did not. But now, that's who Holly is, and I don't even know who Siobhan is anymore. She used to be an angry wild child ready to take on capitalism so no one would ever be trapped in poverty, unable to make their own choices about the life they wanted to lead. But then I guess I got disillusioned by constantly fighting what felt like an unbeatable force? Selfishly decided to opt out of the hustle myself and stopped trying to make big structural changes, instead focusing on local actions like community fridges and volunteering as a clinic escort?"

Tara shook her head. "There's nothing wrong with micro, intra-community action. Honestly, it might be the best possible choice right now. And the clinics that are left always need escorts."

"That's a very generous read on my life choices," Holly observed. "Anyway, now I'm kind of stuck being this version of me. Which is fine. It's a pretty good life."

"I'll start calling you Siobhan, if you start calling me Sloane," Tara told her. As soon as she said it, it felt way too cheesy, but Holly flashed her a huge grin.

Maybe it had been just the right amount of cheesy.

"Siobhan and Sloane sounds like a seventies detective show," Holly joked. "If we get lost in this storm, we can start a new life for ourselves somewhere in Delaware, solving crimes and baking cinnamon rolls. But okay, let's make a deal. On this trip, no matter who we have to pretend to be for anyone else, we'll only be our real selves with each other."

She took one hand off the wheel, which made Tara's heart stop for an instant, only to hold it out for a fist bump, which Tara returned.

"We might have both chosen lives where we wear masks all the time," Tara agreed, "but we can have a little bit of our real selves when we're together."

They fell into a quiet that was less comfortable than the silences they'd shared earlier. Tara never talked about the arson, ever, even with Cole. It felt too vulnerable. She started to retreat back into herself.

Holly must have noticed, because she started to sing.

Actually, she said, "Are you ready? Are you ready?" Which is what Melissa Etheridge said to k.d. lang when they dueted live on Melissa's "You Can Sleep While I Drive." Tara knew those words very well. How many times had she watched that video, wanting a girl to ask her to drive away into the night?

Holly motioned impatiently for Tara to join. Tara laughed and picked up the harmony. They sang at the top of their lungs, steaming up the windows of the Mercedes with their breath as the scenery flew past. Tara's heart felt like it would float out of the car and be carried into the snowy sky by the swirling winds.

She felt like she could fly.

"Thank you. I needed that. Is there a reason we're heading out of Pennsylvania like we're being pursued?" she asked after she caught her breath.

Holly shrugged. "It seemed like I shouldn't waste any time getting you to Cole. I know you're not a big fan of Carrigan's, but it is rumored to have magical healing powers."

Not that she would ever admit it, but now that the molding wallpaper had been replaced, she was looking forward to being with her friends, even if it was in the unsettling chaos of Carrigan's.

Hell, maybe she'd misjudged it. The last time she'd been there, she and Miriam had been in the middle of a breakup, and her heart and ego had been too bruised for her to appreciate its particular brand of kitschy charm. Now that she was close with Hannah and she and Miriam had mended their friendship, she thought she might be able to let herself have fun there. Mrs. Matthews, the cook at the inn and Hannah's mother-in-law, gave hugs like a weighted blanket, to begin with, and Tara could use one. She could also probably use some fun.

"I'm sorry I took you into that," she said, because it needed to be said.

"I agreed to go," Holly pointed out. "Let's not give Cricket Bailey any more of our day than we already have. We still don't know enough about each other to convince anyone we're dating. Let's do a rapid-fire question round. You start."

Tara tried to think of a good question, and then she remembered the game the Carrigan's crew had played at Thanksgiving last year, learning each other's personalities by their pop culture preferences.

"Favorite guilty pleasure TV show?" she asked.

"I'm never guilty about my pleasure," Holly said immediately. "Except for how much Bravo I consume. I feel a little guilty about that. You?"

"Oh, uh…" Tara had been distracted by Holly's mention of pleasure and hadn't thought of her own answer. "I watch a lot of teen dramas in the background while I'm working. I have more feelings about Outer Banks than is probably healthy for me, an adult. Your turn."

Holly was shaking her head over Tara's answer, which was fair.

"Desert island Disney movie. Be honest. Don't try to be cool and say Atlantis or Treasure Planet ."

Now it was Tara's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Do I look like I've ever done anything to seem cool in my life? I'm wearing vintage linen on a road trip, in the snow. Although those are both brilliant, underrated masterpieces, the answer is Frozen II ."

"Interesting. Even though they didn't let Elsa be a lesbian?"

Tara scoffed. "Please. It's not up to Disney to let Elsa be a lesbian or not. She is a lesbian. She's ours."

"Mine is Hercules ."

"Oh, now who's trying to look cool by naming an underrated masterpiece?" She rolled her eyes.

"I really love Meg!" Holly protested.

"Do people call you Merida?" Tara asked. "And, follow-up, how do you feel about Brave as a film separate from that?"

They bounced questions back and forth all the way into New York, trading jokes and sour gummy worms and sideways smiles. Tara's rage at Aunt Cricket and disappointment in herself slowly gave way to her anxiety about being back at Carrigan's Christmasland.

It was going to be great. She and Holly would have fun, and everyone would see her head over heels for a beautiful redhead, totally chill about the whole situation.

Well, no one would ever describe Tara as "totally chill," but maybe she could manage icily cool. It should be easy, because the more uncomfortable Tara got, the further she tended to disappear behind her armor of cold Southern politeness.

When they finally pulled through the wrought-iron filigree gates at the front of the Carrigan's property, Tara did her best to take it in with an unbiased eye. The interlocking C s were a pretty design, and the gate itself had obviously been recently cared for. She remembered it as rusted, hanging from its hinges, but it wasn't at all run-down. Now that she knew more about Mr. Matthews, Levi's dad, she knew he would never let the first glimpse of Carrigan's be shoddy for guests.

Because it was the middle of the Christmas season, the front lawn was covered in decorated cut trees, while the acreage that stretched out behind the old Victorian inn was a sea of snow-covered growing evergreens. Carrigan's hosted a Christmas festival starting the first of November that included, according to Cole, reindeer races, gingerbread house and snowman-building contests, a very intense cookie swap, and, somehow, military battles among nutcrackers named Steve.

Tara hadn't known Carrigan's existed while she and Miriam were together. In fact, until its previous owner, Cass Carrigan, had died and unexpectedly left part of the business to her nieces Hannah and Miriam, Tara's ex hadn't set foot there for a decade.

The day Cass died, Miriam had told Tara that she needed to go to the Adirondacks to sit shiva, and she'd never returned to Charleston. Instead, she'd fallen in love, saved the business, and found a big, wonderful family. Tara had always empathized with the uptight blond fiancée at the beginning of every Hallmark movie who was so obviously wrong for the main character, but she'd never thought she would become one.

The sound of the car pulling up to the front door of the inn brought Noelle out to investigate, and Tara saw her start a bit as she realized who they were.

Climbing out from the driver's side, Tara brushed herself off and extended a hand. "Noelle, thank you so much for inviting me. I appreciate that I might not be the top of your list for people you want at your wedding."

Noelle quirked a lip up, and Tara had to hand it to Miriam—the woman was smoking hot. With a high pompadour with shaved sides, suspenders over a flannel shirt, beat-up work boots, she was a fat dapper butch dreamboat, and Tara could give credit where credit was due.

"I'm grateful you were willing to come. It means a lot to Miri, and let's face it, you didn't do anything wrong at any point in the proceedings."

Tara made a so-so gesture with the hand she still had extended. "I was kind of a bitch."

"Hell, I was kind of a bitch. That's Miri's type!" Noelle pointed out, and wrapped Tara up in a bear hug.

Oh God. She had not expected this. She didn't have a script ready. What she ended up saying was "You smell good."

Noelle laughed down to her gut. "You too. Magnolias?"

"You can take a girl out of Charleston…" Tara said. She heard a throat clear behind her. "Oh, gosh! Let me introduce you to my girlfriend, Holly."

The word girlfriend rolled around in her mouth, unfamiliar but delicious, like the first time you tried something that you didn't expect to love. This was it. It was time for them to put on their act.

Holly was coming forward to shake hands with Noelle when a giant flash hurtled toward them, blond hair reflecting the lights of the Christmas trees like a halo. Tara didn't even try to brace herself, because she knew what was coming, and she'd learned long ago that there was no stopping him. She was hoisted into the air, the summer they'd spent practicing ice-skating jumps and the lift from Dirty Dancing rushing back, her muscle memory taking over. She extended her arms as she was spun in dizzy circles, Cole whooping the whole time.

"You're heeeeeeeere!!!!!" he shouted, finally letting her down into his arms, but not far enough down that her feet touched the ground. He carried her back over to Noelle and Holly like a kid with their favorite stuffy.

"Tara's here," he said to Noelle, and she could hear the smile in his voice.

"I noticed," Noelle deadpanned. "Holly's here, too."

"Don't pick me up," Holly warned him. "I will puke hot Cheetos and Diet Mountain Dew all over you."

"Might be worth it," Cole ventured.

Tara coughed. "Nicholas. Jedediah. Fraser. The third. I require oxygen."

Cole made a pfft sound like he didn't believe this, but he released her from his bear hug, spinning her around so she could rest her back against his chest, wrapping his arms around her neck and resting his head on hers.

"Can I take your luggage?" Noelle asked. "Since Fraser here seems unlikely to let go of you long enough to do it?"

"I'll help!" Holly offered. To Tara, she said, "Obviously doesn't like you. Hi, Cole!" She waved, as she followed Noelle inside.

"Hi, Holly! Great to see you! Did you bring coconut cake? Who doesn't like you?!" Cole demanded of Tara. "I'll beat them up!" He paused. "Well, I won't beat them up, but I'll empty their bank account!"

She sighed in pretend frustration at his general too-muchness, but she breathed more deeply when he was around. Resting her head back against his chest, she told him, "You know the rules, no hacking for personal gain or petty vengeance."

"Bo-ring," Cole singsonged. He spun her around, his hands on her shoulders. "Okay, now that they're gone, how's it going? With the fake dating scheme? Tell me everything. Are you using it as a ruse to get into her pants? I feel like you could just ask. Have you kissed? I know these kinds of hijinks are not usually your scene, so if you need anything at all, I'm here to help."

She put her hands on his face. "I'm not telling you anything until you tell me what's going on with you and the hot bartender mayor," she said seriously.

A blush rose up Cole's neck, all the way up his face and down his bare chest.

Wait.

"Cole, why aren't you wearing a shirt? Or socks? Boat shoes are not appropriate for this weather!"

He shrugged happily, smiling his lopsided smile that was meant to make people forget whatever trouble he was up to. "You cannot deflect from this conversation about your fake dating ."

This last part was nearly yelled.

"Fraser, I can deflect from any conversation. Don't underestimate me. And keep your voice down! This won't work if you announce it to the whole Adirondacks!"

Cole looked at her skeptically. "Do you not trust me, a professional secret keeper for, like, world governments, with whom you once committed felony arson that I told no one about for decades, to keep this secret for you? Because I'm going to be very offended."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Who did you already tell?"

"Sawyer, but he's not going to tell anyone! He was there when I talked to you." Cole shrank, his shoulders rolling in and his smile turning into a grimace. "I'm sorry! But I swear, it's actual state secret time from here on out. Forgive me? Because I'm keeping it a secret from Mimi and you know I would never do that for anyone else."

He glanced over her head and said dramatically, "Mimi! Look who's here!"

Tara turned to see her ex-fiancée.

Miriam Blum was a tiny, elven force of nature. Standing five foot on a tall day, her wild mass of dark brown curls gave her another couple of inches in every direction. She was wearing a pair of paint-spattered skinny jeans, a hoodie so big she must have stolen it from Cole with the cuffs rolled up to fit her arms, and ancient Doc Martens Tara had never seen before. She supposed you rarely needed to wear Docs in the heat of South Carolina.

They'd seen each other since their breakup, although sparingly. Miriam had come to Charleston earlier in the year to pack up her warehouse of art and the rest of her stuff, and make her apologies for the way things had ended. Tara had gotten over the situation easily enough, since mostly her pride had been wounded. She and Miriam had entered into an engagement of convenience, with the clear purpose of never falling in love, and the engagement had ceased to be convenient for Miriam.

She'd been hurt, as a friend, that Miriam hadn't been more honest with her, but with some distance she acknowledged that most people wouldn't have known how to handle the situation Miriam had found herself in, especially in the middle of grieving.

How do you call your partner and say, "Hey, good news/bad news, I met my soulmate"?

Still, Miriam hung back, looking nervous. A small part of Tara wanted to be a little mean and let her squirm, but her training was too ingrained. "Miriam!" she said, putting on her brightest smile (not even a fake one!) and offering a hug that Miriam accepted. "It's so wonderful to be here. You look incredible."

This, too, was genuine. Miriam's skin was brighter, her eyes less sad. Tara would not have described her as haunted before, or even dulled—she was one of the most vibrant people Tara had ever met—but the difference, between then and now, was striking. Carrigan's, and love, suited her.

"You look…" Miriam paused. "Cold. Beautiful, but cold! Let's get you inside."

She wanted to say the cold didn't bother her, but she was a Southern girl through and through. Give her 90 degrees and 100 percent humidity over a white Christmas any day. Following Miriam into the warm foyer was a relief.

Until she was hit by the wall of noise, color, and light that was Carrigan's at Christmas.

Why were there real trees inside the inn?! Were there not enough on the front lawn? Why was every single tree decorated in a different theme, none of them coordinating with the one next to it? Every tree was lit up like a lighthouse, and not a single white bulb anywhere to be found. As Tara tried to process this onslaught of visual information, the Chipmunks started playing overhead, imploring Christmas to not be late (How could Christmas be late? It was always on the same day), and the trees began blinking in unison.

Cole's familiar weight at her back might have been the only reason she didn't faint.

"Oh God," she said, and found she had actually clutched her actual pearls, "this is… really something."

Miriam snorted. "It's not exactly your aesthetic, I know. But look! We completed the installation of the wallpaper!"

"I don't know how I would be expected to see the wallpaper behind all the trees, garland, tinsel, and other varied holiday ephemera," Tara said flatly, "but I can certainly no longer smell it, which is a wonderful sign."

"You know," Miriam observed, "for a woman who has spent all her life in a place that mildews like it was the city's vocation, you're very picky about this issue."

There was simply nothing to do but ignore that remark. Miriam, who knew her well, would expect that of her, so she wasn't even being rude.

"Noelle took Holly upstairs to your room if you'd like to get settled. Hannah is in the kitchen with Mrs. Matthews." Miriam gestured to the left, where a swinging door opened to the dining room and kitchen. "Levi is helping his dad fix something in the reindeer enclosure."

She'd only met Levi in person for a few minutes, when he had, at her request, come to kidnap Cole off her couch this past summer, but she was looking forward to seeing him again. And eating his food. Why be friends with a famous chef if they don't feed you, after all?

A cat of enormous size, with ear tufts as wide as a normal cat was long, sauntered through Cole's legs to wind himself around Tara's.

"Oh, and Kringle is, apparently, here, although he's supposed to stay in the Carriage House."

Kringle chirped at them. Cole gathered him up and flipped him upside down, carrying him like a baby, if babies weighed thirty pounds and had tails the length of an adult human arm.

"Come on," he said, though Tara wasn't sure if he was talking to her or the cat, "I'll show you to your room."