Graham stared out at the lake and squinted. He’d thought there was something out there, but it was hard to see.

Then he saw it again; it looked like a dog swimming in the water. Graham stumbled into the freezing water to help it-

“What are you doing?!”

Richard pulled Graham back to shore harshly.

He looked out across the water, but there was nothing there. Whatever he’d seen was gone now. “Nothing,” Graham muttered.

“Nothing? Geez, look at you. Your feet are soaked.”

Graham was wet from the knees down from tripping into the water.

“Come on, let’s get you in the car and warmed up,” Richard ordered, pushing Graham back towards where his jeep was still running. “What were you even doing here?”

“None of your business,” Graham grumbled, borrowing a line from Rex.

“Fine,” Richard sighed. “Just, fine. Get in and take off those wet shoes and socks, would you? I’ll drive you back to your house.”

Graham wanted to protest, but walking back up to the house with wet clothes was sure to make him sick. The better choice was to accept Richard’s generosity.

“So what was that?” Richard asked again once they were driving.

“The Grinch,” Graham grumpily answered as he stared out the window.

One incredulous eyebrow raised. “Really? The Grinch? You’re going to blame whatever that was on a storybook character?”

“It’s close enough.”

Richard’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “I would’ve thought the Grinch and Scrooge would get along, seeing as they’re both grumpy butts.”

“Who are you calling a grumpy butt? And who even says that?”

“You. You just did.”

“Haha, very funny.”

“Don’t you mean ‘bah humbug!’?”

“I’d hit you but you’re driving.”

“Suddenly you’re very safety-conscious. Glad to see you’re not following the Grinch onto thin ice anymore.”

Graham turned away again with a scowl. “Shut up.”

“Oh come on. Even you have to admit that was stupid.”

It was stupid. That was what had Graham so annoyed. It was a stupid move and Richard had seen it. Stupid Richard who normally wouldn’t put out any effort to help anyone. There was some ulterior motive in pulling Graham from the water and tucking him into the warm car, and Graham was going to find it. “It’s Christmas,” he grumbled. “Doesn’t that make everyone stupid?”

“Wow. That was brutal.”

“You said it: I’m Scrooge. I hate Christmas.”

“Scrooge didn’t hate Christmas, and neither do you.”

“Of course I do.”

“Then why decorate the senior center every year?”

“It’s good PR.”

“And the Reindeer Fundraiser for the hospital?”

“Tax write-off.”

“That’s not why you do it.”

“How would you know?”

“Because if it was just that your underlings would arrange it. Instead you handle it all.”

Graham glared. “I don’t have underlings.”

“Minions,” Richard shrugged. “Same thing.”

“I really ought to hit you.”

“There’s that Christmas spirit.”