Calculated Risk by Zoe M. McCarthy Page B

that they handed off to Tony and Nick, who packed them in the back of the van. Fannie and Fran piled in and sat next to Cisney while Nancy scooted into the middle seat.
    Cisney set her handbag on the floor to give the twins more room. “What’s going on?”
    Fran held a box the size of a medium-sized sheet cake on her lap. “It’s our turn to do the Holiday Blast.”
    Would wonders never cease? The silent twin had uttered words. And her information was about as useful as Nick’s normal fare. “What’s the Holiday Blast?”
    Fannie jumped in. “Many of the elderly in Aunt Ellie, Uncle Roger, and Nancy’s church would like to decorate for the holidays, but find it’s too hard or exhausting or dangerous. A lot of them have cherished ornaments and other decorations that sit in boxes in attics or basements. So different teams from the church go out and decorate their houses or apartments with their ornaments.” She pointed to the box on Fran’s lap. “Every year, we add a new ornament to each household.”
    “That’s awesome.” Cisney risked Fran slapping her hand and lifted the lid. Colorful Christmas tree ornaments covered the bottom of the box. “I’m glad to see you’re decorating for Christmas and not Thanksgiving.”
    Nancy leaned against the window. “Although, Easter and other holidays are available, our family always does Christmas while we’re all here to participate. We go out late like this on Thanksgiving Day so we can take fresh turkey sandwiches, tossed salads, and pie slices to each household. You may not have noticed that Mom had two turkeys cooking this morning. And right before we sit down to eat, Grandma Thelma slides more pies into the oven.“
    “I wondered why there were so many pies and vegetables.” What a good use of the LeCrone’s two ovens. “This whole idea is amazing.”
    “Yeah,” Fannie said. “At the homes, we take down and pack away Thanksgiving decorations that another team put up, and then decorate for Christmas. It’s been part of our Thanksgiving Day tradition for five years.”
    “Six,” Fran said.
    Nick climbed into the driver’s seat and power closed the lift-gate. Tony rode shotgun in the front passenger seat.
    A few blocks away, if the winding road could be said to have blocks, Nick stopped at a large Tudor-like house and picked up waiting Allison. She offered greetings around and sat next to Nancy.
    As Nick drove on, Tony consulted a sheet of paper. “We’ll need to split up into three teams. Fan and Fran, do you guys want to take the apartments like always?”
    “Yes.” Fran spoke over his last words.
    Tony turned in his seat. “Who do you want to go with, Cisney?”
    She startled. “Whomever. It doesn’t matter.” But it did. She’d assumed she’d be sticking with Nick. And wanted to. But Nick failed to jump in and claim her. He remained silent. She felt like the last person standing by herself when team captains took turns calling players from the group to join their teams. She’d never had that experience, but now she could identify.
    Nancy snatched the paper from Tony’s hand and studied it. “Three of us have to go to the neighborhood near the church, because we have three houses there and need the manpower to get them all done in time.”
    Tony seized the paper back. “OK. So, Cisney, why don’t you come with Allison and me there.”
    Cisney forced out a cheerful, “Sure.”
    Was Nick jumping joyously inwardly?
    Nancy held up her hand. “Stop. Wait a minute. As much as I love my brother, I think Cisney should go with Nick.”
    Tony stared at her. “Why?”
    “Let’s take a vote,” Allison said, laughing.
    All, except Nick, agreed.
    Were they joking? Obviously, yes, but who was the joke on. Nick, or her, or both? Was this payback for leading the family astray with the engagement false alarm?
    Head-in-the-sand Nick kept driving as if he were merely a chauffeur surrounded by soundproof glass.
    “All in favor of Cisney going with