She rolled her eyes, suddenly annoyed with herself. She wasn’t some easily distracted woman who fell in love with the first man that made love to her in a forest.
No, she had a competition to focus on.
Cassidy looked down at her cocoa tags and Advent reveal boxes. They just weren’t going to be enough.
She racked her brain, trying to come up with something else, something that screamed Christmas but was still unique.
Outside, she heard the whistle of the holiday train, and an idea struck her. What if she had a hot cocoa train? Not a full-size one like the train outside, but a model train. She could picture it now: little cars carrying hot cocoa toppings like chocolate chips, crushed peppermint, cinnamon sticks, flavored marshmallows, and meringues. She’d pour the cocoa, and customers could top it with whatever their hearts desired. She could build an elevated village out of marshmallows and gumdrops, a pine forest, too.
She felt herself blush. She would never look at white pines the same way again.
“No more fantasizing,” she told herself. She didn’t want to end up on Santa’s naughty list. Liam’s, maybe…
Cassidy was just about to grab her phone to see how quickly she could get a model train delivered when the shop door chimed.
Mrs. Bishop and Mrs. C. stepped inside, and Cassidy did a double-take when she saw what they were wearing—bright red sweaters embroidered with the words “Team Cassidy” across the front.
“What is this?” she asked, motioning to their sweaters.
“This?” Mrs. C. did a proud spin in the middle of the shop. “Just a little something us crafting club ladies cooked up. Competition sweaters! What do you think?”
Cassidy came around the counter. “You made these for all the businesses?”
Mrs. Bishop hesitated. “Not exactly all the businesses…”
“Just you and Liam,” Mrs. C. chimed in matter-of-factly. “Because let’s be honest, the competition’s really between the two of you. Everybody loves a romance story.”
“What?” Cassidy’s eyes went wide.
“Come now, we all know you two have a thing for each other,” Mrs. C. added breezily.
“We saw you skating on the lake this morning,” Mrs. Bishop said with a knowing smile.
Cassidy cleared her throat and silently prayed that was all they had seen.
“Oh, don’t be too flustered, dear,” Mrs. Bishop said, patting her arm with a wink. “It’s all in good fun. We haven’t seen this town so excited about the competition in years.”
“Honestly, people are placing bets on who’s going to win,” Mrs. C. said, chuckling. “Gary over at the hardware store’s running a bracket, and Kit tells me the Maple Leaf Café has aTeam LiamandTeam Cassidytip jar situation going on.”
Cassidy covered her face with her hands. “Oh my gosh.”
Mrs. Bishop laughed. “It’s all in the spirit of Christmas. And all the proceeds from the sweater sales will go to the winning charity,” she added more gently. “Just a nice way to add a little more excitement to the competition.”
“That’s actually a great idea,” Cassidy said, her tone softening. “My charity means a lot to me. It’s the children’s hospital in Mount Holly. When I was little, I spent a Christmas there, and some kind stranger donated a bunch of toys to all of us kids. I’ve never forgotten it. I always thought it would be amazing to return the favor—to spread some holiday joy to kids who are having a really hard Christmas.”
“And that’s exactly why we’re wearing Team Cassidy sweaters,” Mrs. C. said with a smile.
“Now, about that spiced cocoa,” Mrs. Bishop said, leaning on the counter. “Think we could get a cup?”
“How about it’s on the house if you tell me where I can get one of those sweaters,” Cassidy replied.
“The crafting club’s set up a stand right in front of the town Christmas tree,” Mrs. Bishop replied. “You can’t miss it. There’s already a line.”
“Perfect,” Cassidy said, her grin growing as her competitive spirit kicked into gear. “What do you think about me adding a hot cocoa train to my window display?” Cassidy asked, valuing the women’s advice.
“Well, that would be different,” Mrs. C. said thoughtfully.
“Different good or different bad?” Cassidy asked for clarification.
