Blair was just a little miffed that her parents were not waiting at the arrival gate. Sure it was short notice, and the airport was crowded, and they were undoubtedly busy with the party, but she was, after all, bringing home her one and only. She said nothing though, as she and Enrique walked quickly down the concourse, arm in arm, stride for stride, somehow weaving gracefully through the mob while remaining attached at the hip and staring only at each other.
There was no one to greet them at the baggage claim either. But as they were hauling their luggage toward the exit, Blair saw two policemen holding a hand-scrawled sign that read "Blair and Enriqe."
They had misspelled Enrique, but at the moment who cared? She called to them, and they snapped into action, scooping up the luggage and leading them through the mass of people. Officer Salino explained as they walked outside that the Chief had dispatched a police escort for Blair and Enrique. Welcome home!
"The party is waiting," he said as they stuffed their things into the trunk of a police car, which was parked illegally at the curb in front of the taxis. A second police car was parked in front of the first.
As a South American, Enrique was more than a little hesitant to voluntarily get into the back of a police car. He looked around nervously, at the crush of foot traffic, taxis, and buses bumper to bumper, people yelling, guards whistling. The idea of bolting crossed his mind, then his eyes returned to the beautiful face of the girl he loved.
"Let's go," she said, and they jumped in. He would've followed her anywhere. With lights flashing, the two cars flew away, darting through traffic, forcing others onto the edges of the streets.
"This happens all the time?" Enrique whispered.
"Never," Blair answered. What a nice touch, she thought.
Officer Treen was driving furiously. Officer Salino was smiling at the thought of Luther Krank hanging by his feet while the entire neighborhood looked on. But he wouldn't say a word. Blair would never know the truth, according to orders from Vic Frohmeyer, who'd finally gotten through to the Mayor and also had the Chief's ear.
As they worked their way into the suburbs, the traffic thinned and a light snow began. "Calling for four inches," Salino said over his shoulder. "Does it snow down in Peru?"
"In the mountains," Enrique said. "But I live in Lima, the capital."
"Had a cousin went to Mexico one time," Salino said, but let it go because there was nothing else to add. The cousin had almost died, etc., but Salino wisely decided not to venture into third-world horror stories.
Blair was determined to be hyperprotective of her fiancé and his homeland, so she quickly rushed in with a "Has it snowed since Thanksgiving?"
The subject of weather was the most common ground of all. "Had two inches a week ago, wasn't it?" Salino said, glancing at Treen, who was driving with white knuckles in a successful attempt to keep his car no more than five feet behind the police car in front of them.
"Four inches," Treen said with authority.
"No, it was two, wasn't it?" Salino argued.
"Four," Treen said, shaking his head, and this irritated Salino.
They finally settled on three inches of snow as Blair and Enrique huddled in the back and looked at the rows of neatly decorated houses.
"Almost there," she said softly. "That's Stanton, Hemlock is next."
Spike was the lookout. He flashed green twice on his Boy Scout signal lantern, and the stage was set.

Luther limped pitifully into their bathroom, where Nora was putting the finishing touches on her face. For twenty minutes she'd been desperately experimenting with everything she could find-foundations, powders, highlights. Her wonderfully tanned skin was hidden from the neck down, and she was determined to lighten her face.
It wasn't working, though.
"You look emaciated," Luther said, truthfully. Powder was flying around her head.
Luther was in too much pain to worry about his tan. At Nora's suggestion, he was wearing black-black cardigan over a black turtleneck with dark gray slacks. The darker his attire the paler his skin, in her opinion. The cardigan he'd worn only once, and luckily it was one Blair had given him for a birthday. The turtleneck had never been worn, and neither he nor Nora could remember where it came from.
He felt like a Mafia lieutenant.
"Just give it up," he said as she flung bottles and seemed ready to throw one at him.
"I will not," she snapped. "Blair will not know about the cruise, do you understand, Luther?"
"Then don't tell her about the cruise. Tell her your doctor recommended tanning for, uh, which vitamin is it?"
"D, from the sunshine, not a tanning bed. Another stupid idea, Luther."
"Tell her we've had some unseasonably warm weather, been outside a lot, working in the flower beds."
"That's your lie, and it's not going to work. She's not blind. She'll look at your flower beds and see that they haven't been touched in months."
"Ouch."
"Any more bright ideas?"
"We're getting a head start on spring break? Bought a tanning package."
"Very funny."
She brushed by him in a huff, powder trailing behind her Luther was limping down the hall, with his new plastic cane, toward the crowd in his living room, when he heard someone yell, "Here they come."
Due to a malfunctioning canvas strap, Ralph Brixley was actually holding his own Frosty in place, in front of Luther Krank's chimney, on Luther's roof, in the snow and the cold, when he saw the green flashing light from the end of the street. "Here they come," he yelled down to Krank's patio, where his assistant, Judd Bellington, was waiting by the ladder and trying to repair the strap.
From Ralph's point of view, he watched with some measure of pride (and some measure of frustration because it was cold up there and getting colder) as his neighborhood circled the wagons to help one of its own, even if it was Luther Krank.
A large choir, under the shaky direction of Mrs. Ellen Mulholland, was assembled next t............