Page 2 of Deck the Palms (An Annabeth Albert Christmas)

Two

As a reminder, ohana, drinking fountains are not water cannons! Additionally, Mr. Can-Do kindly requests any puddles be promptly reported to the school office. Let’s keep Anuenue Middle School beautiful!

MERRY

Nolan Bell, Broadway star, was clearly way out of his usual Ivy League territory as a middle school substitute. I already didn’t like him. Or rather, I didn’t like his type. Nothing personal, but I’d pegged him as a rich city slicker at first glance. Thanks to my ex, I knew far too much about designer brands, and Nolan was decked out in a whole ensemble—leather man bag with a gaudy gold label, loafers way better suited to a boardroom than a beach, high thread count short-sleeve button-up and a suit vest. A vest! As if we might be conducting vital banking business or playing billiards here instead of teaching overcrowded tweens and teens.

“Let’s get one thing straight.” I waited until Principal Alana had left to glare at Nolan, who sat with perfect posture and a saintly smile.

“I’m not.” He laughed at his own joke. And he would be way easier to take if he weren’t so attractive under his designer wrapping. He had pale skin, stylishly tamed curly dark hair, brown eyes a more golden hue than my own, and a trim, muscular build that spoke to a fair bit of gym time.

“I picked up on that, thanks.” The guncle comment had been pretty damn obvious had my own highly honed gaydar failed me, which it hadn’t.

Nolan gave a regal sniff, his smile finally dipping to be replaced with steely determination. “If you have a problem with me being gay, you might as well get it out there now.”

“I’m pan. I couldn’t care less about who you date or whatever.” I waved a hand. Heck. I still had chalk and paint on my palm. Hazards of shop class. “I have a problem with you being a big-city substitute who doesn’t know the island. You’re going to get these kids’ hopes up for something we don’t have the time or budget for.”

“Wow.” Nolan pretended to recoil at my words. “Say what you really feel. Should we go ahead and schedule a repeat performance of Holly Holliday’s Holiday Surprise now?”

“I’m not saying that.” I’d worked as Dory’s assistant last year and would be happy to never hear another whistling holiday standard played on a recorder or sung off-key. “Dory Crenshaw is cranky and outdated, but she understands island culture. She was born on the island and is married to a Hawaiian. She knows it’s too hot for Santa suit costumes, that every kid needs a part, and how families with diverse cultural and spiritual backgrounds want to feel included.” I looked up from my rant to discover Nolan writing on a classy leather notepad. “Wait. What are you doing?”

I had an excellent working relationship with Principal Alana, but I didn’t need Nolan documenting my beef with him or some such in order to tattle.

“Taking notes.” Expression remaining serene, he held up the notepad which contained a sloppy numbered list complete with stars and relevant underlining. “No Santa suits. Every kid needs a role. Include all families. Ask around about family backgrounds and dynamics to better understand them. What else?”

“Oh.” I hadn’t expected him to be nearly so compliant or willing to hear me out. Alyssa had been gone from the island a good chunk of years, and here I was, still letting my ex drive my bias against rich outsiders. I took a breath and dropped a good chunk of my hostile tone. “The festival is largely outdoors even though this is the rainiest part of the year on Oahu. Prepare for inclement weather. Including winds. We can’t have a lot of lightweight paper items blowing around.”

“I can work with all of this.” Nolan radiated cheery confidence. “And work with you . I’m very familiar with low-budget productions.”

I bristled, unsure whether he was implying I was a low-budget production. My long familiarity with Alyssa’s idea of “bargain” made me wary.

“There’s a huge difference between low-budget Broadway and a public school with a nonexistent budget for extras.”

“We can send out a request to parents for donations?—”

“You could.” I held up a hand. Nolan might be a decent uncle, but he was clearly unfamiliar with the stacks of requests for fees and donations parents received daily. “However, most of these kids are from the base and have enlisted parents on tight budgets, or they’re locals being squeezed out by the base and tourists driving the cost of living up. We can’t pressure parents to give more than they have.”

“Point taken.” Nolan gave a sharp nod, and for the first time, I saw the resemblance to his army officer brother, whom I’d met at parent night last year. Like his brother, Nolan could have a formidable presence and decisive tone. “So we’ll make do.”

“Does nothing phase you?” I narrowed my eyes, impressed and irritated that he’d deftly handled all my complaints and warnings.

“I’m a New Yorker. We thrive on chaos.”

Naturally, at that moment, true chaos descended into the small conference room as Ryder and Legend burst in. My sons were sixth graders. I’d spent my first two years teaching at the school and counting down until the boys would be able to attend. But now that we were a few months into the year, the thrill had worn off, leaving behind a daily struggle to balance my role as a dad with my job as a teacher.

A job we very much needed me to keep. I’d left the boys in my classroom with strict instructions to wait for my meeting to wrap up, but clearly, my orders lacked some key element.

“Dad. Dad. Dad .” Ryder flopped into one of the empty chairs like he’d just run a mile. “The water fountain in the hall is leaking.”

“And Mr. Can-Do is gone for the day.” Legend followed his brother into the room. The janitor’s real last name was Ka?uhane, but generations of students had called him Mr. Can-Do because of his usual response to any request.

“And neither of you had anything to do with this leak?” I tilted my head, already bracing for the answer.

“It was an experiment.” Legend offered a toothy grin. The boys looked more like Alyssa—darker eyes than mine, dark-brown hair, less of my ruddy, tanned complexion and more of Alyssa’s warm-gold mixed Polynesian looks. Today’s outfit was a red T-shirt and black shorts. When they were babies, matching outfits had been an inevitable side effect of having identical twins, but these days, the matching had way more to do with mischief. “I might have pressed the button a little long?—”

“With your elbow,” Ryder helpfully added. Despite being identical, there were small tells as to which twin was which. Legend had more of an overbite awaiting braces, while Ryder had a slightly more singsong voice. And unlike his brother, Ryder had zero poker face. His eyes went wide and shifty as he noticed Nolan. “ Oh. Hi, Mr. Bell.”

“Why do you sound so guilty?” I groaned.

“It was just a joke.” Legend sounded confidently dismissive, but I was not so sure.

“What was?”

“Getting Mr. Bell to step into the hall so we could shut the door on him.”

“And lock it.” Nolan had a sharp look for the boys and me.

“Boys. Seriously. No more pranks.” I closed my eyes. I’d counted to ten so many times in the last eleven years, but never more than over the last few months. And year twelve looked to be even more challenging. “I worked so hard to get us into this school. Please. Don’t land me on Principal Alana’s naughty list.”

“We’ll be good.” Ryder’s smile was almost enough to make me a believer. He turned in his chair, peering down at Nolan’s feet. “Are those Armani shoes?”

“Close.” Nolan grinned widely. “I love shoes. A bit too much. Luckily, I’m great at bargain hunting.”

“So is our mom. I’ve got a Gucci shirt.” Ryder had zero filter, as usual. And I hated that Alyssa’s limited influence on the boys was to give Ryder a taste for luxury apparel. “And I like shoes too.”

He kicked a foot up to reveal his canvas sneakers with a sparkly print. Legend, who deferred to Ryder in all matters of fashion, had a similar pair, but Ryder’s love of glitter was another way to tell the twins apart.

“I like them. They give me merfolk vibes.” Nolan’s sunny approval apparently gave Ryder a case of regret because he squirmed in his seat.

“Thanks. I’m sorry we tried to lock you out.”

“It’s okay. Tomorrow is a new day.” Between his seeming inability to get irritated and his penchant for optimistic sayings, Nolan was practically a walking motivational poster.

“If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I’ll go check the leak.” And as for me, I was never this grumpy, but something about Nolan set me off big time. Luckily, the leak ended up being nothing more than a stuck button, and I returned to the conference room a few minutes later to find Nolan and Ryder deep in conversation about music while Legend played on his tablet, taking advantage of the school Wi-Fi. All I needed was Ryder getting too attached to the new teacher, but there was a limit to how rude I was willing to be, especially in front of the twins.

“How’s it going?” I asked, struggling for a friendly tone.

“Mr. Bell will be here through winter break,” Ryder reported.

“Yep,” I said tightly. Seeing the boys getting along so well with Nolan made me even crankier for reasons I wasn’t about to unpack right then. Instead, I turned toward Nolan. “Listen, I have to get these two home and fed before outdoor club tonight. You work up a reasonable plan, and we can discuss it further. You can text me.”

“Excellent.” Nolan handed me his notepad to scribble my number. Something told me Nolan and I would have vastly different definitions of reasonable . “Outdoor club sounds fun.”

Nolan’s pale complexion and soft hands said he didn’t see much outside other than catching a taxi to his next performance, but I couldn’t exactly call him on his undoubtedly fake interest with the boys right there.

“It’s a non-affiliated scouting alternative. Keeps them busy.”

“You wouldn’t like us bored.” Legend’s ominous tone made us all laugh.

With that, I hurried the boys to my older hatchback and then to our apartment, where we let Barney out onto our small patio. Our scruffy dog, who stumped even experienced vets about his breed, had been waiting patiently since our neighbor let him out around lunchtime. I rotated his water while Legend filled Barney’s bowl with chow.

“I like Mr. Bell. Think he’s gay?” Ryder, who was supposed to be pulling things for dinner out of the freezer, nearly made me drop the water dish.

“None of your business.” Just because Nolan had come out to me easily didn’t mean he’d want to be out to the students, and Ryder was something of a gossip at the best of times. Not to mention, he’d spent the last year or so trying to hone his own gaydar, often with disastrous results. Luckily, I was hard to embarrass, but the phase where Ryder had loudly asked whether any two dudes dining together were a couple had been a little uncomfortable.

“He doesn’t wear a ring.” Ryder beamed as he arranged frozen tacos, potato wedges, and chicken tenders on a baking sheet. All the major food groups. “And I suppose he could be bi or pan like you.”

“Ryder…” I groaned. I loved that my kid told me every last thing on his mind, even when it was a bit of a curse.

“Are you trying to matchmake Dad with Mr. Bell? That’s creepy.” Legend glared at his brother. Creepy was his current word for everything he didn’t like. “And why do we even need a holiday festival?”

“Because a lot of people find it fun. And it raises money.” I took the tray from Ryder and slid it into the waiting oven.

“How much money?” Legend narrowed his eyes. The way Ryder felt about music and sparkly things was how Legend felt about making and saving money.

“Enough to cover the field trips in the spring.”

“Mr. Kekoa said two years ago they got to go watch canoes being built and help build them.” Legend had my love of building things coupled with a deep appreciation for Hawaiian traditions and culture. “That would be cool.”

“It would. So we need the festival to be a success.” I forced a positive tone. I hated that ensuring enough money for our cash-strapped school meant working closely, too closely, with Nolan.

“Mr. Bell will make sure it’s fabulous .” Ryder used another of his favorite words. “I can’t wait to see what he comes up with.”

“Me too,” I lied. If Ryder’s hero worship continued, it would be a long, long two months. And whatever Nolan came up with was likely to be expensive and complicated, but I had little choice but to hope Ryder was right. We needed a fabulously profitable festival, and I needed to stop seeing Nolan’s movie-star-worthy looks in my brain every time I heard his name. We were both here to do one job.