They walked down the snowy streets, and Lincoln felt a sense of peace settle over him that he hadn’t felt in quite some time. The town felt magical tonight in a way that exceeded even the usual holiday feeling of Fir Tree Grove, and he thought it had more to do with his company than the town itself.
“It really is beautiful here,” Imogen said softly, echoing his thoughts. “I sometimes forget how lucky we are to live in a place like this.”
“Even when it means getting lost on sleigh rides organized by mysterious town contests that may or may not actually exist?” Lincoln asked with a grin.
Imogen laughed. “Even then.”
They reached Main Street, and Lincoln stopped in front of Artisan Chocolates, where Imogen’s car waited in the small parking area behind the building. The evening was over, and Lincoln felt an unexpected sadness settling over him.
“Thank you for a lovely evening,” she said with a smile. “It was fun to do something so unexpected.”
“It was,” he agreed, and he thought her expression brightened a little more.
For a moment, he thought about kissing her again, there under the glow of the streetlamps in the still softly falling snow. But before he could find his nerve again, Imogen waved a mittened hand, and turned to go toward her car.
The moment had passed. And Lincoln wondered if he should let it go for good, or if it was something he should grasp, the next time there was an opportunity.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Tuesday morning, instead of heading to the Christmas tree farm, Mabel and George were on their way to get some fudge.
George was finally feeling better, and Mabel had known that for sure when that morning, after he’d polished off the oatmeal and blueberry maple sausages that she’d made him for breakfast, he’d given her the look that she had come to know meant he was craving something in particular.
“You know what sounds absolutely perfect right about now?” he’d said, setting down his fork. Mabel hadn’t been able to keep the smile off of her face, because she could see that George really had gotten over his flu. His color was better, his fever had broken two days ago, and he had energy for the first time in two weeks.
“What’s that?” Mabel had asked, collecting the dishes to take them to the sink.
“Some of Imogen’s eggnog fudge. She always makes it with real nutmeg, and you can taste the rum flavoring. I’ve missed enough of the holiday treats, I think. We should go and get some. Get some fresh air too.”
The fact that he was craving something other than soup and crackers had thrilled Mabel, but she’d also been over the moon at the thought of heading to the chocolate shop and finding outhow Imogen and Lincoln’s sleigh ride had gone—besides the fact that they’d gotten lost on the way. She couldn’t think of a better way to start off the day.
“Well then,” she’d said, reaching for her coat with perhaps a bit too much enthusiasm, “I suppose we’d better remedy that situation immediately.”
Now, as they walked hand in hand down Main Street toward Artisan Chocolates, Mabel could barely contain her excitement. She’d been practically vibrating with curiosity ever since Henry had called to let her know he’d successfully rescued the lost couple from the back roads north of town.
And now she had the perfect excuse to visit the chocolate shop. After all, George genuinely did want that eggnog fudge, and it wasn’t her fault if she happened to be curious about how the evening had progressed.
Imogen was at the counter when they walked in, the store mostly empty of customers. She looked up as the bell above the door chimed, and Mabel breathed in the comforting scent of chocolate and peppermint and holiday spices.
“George! Mabel!” Imogen called out from behind the counter, her face lighting up. “It’s so good to see you, George, you look so much better! I’m so glad you’re feeling well again.”
“Thanks,” George said with his usual gruff smile. “I am feeling much better. And I’m in the mood for some eggnog fudge, if you have any left.”
“I do,” Imogen said. “I’ll wrap up a block for you right now. Mabel, do you want anything?”
“I wouldn’t say no to a box of peppermint bark,” Mabel admitted, and Imogen smiled.
“A block of eggnog fudge and a box of peppermint bark, coming right up.”
“So,” Mabel said, trying to sound casual as she leaned against the counter while Imogen began packaging the chocolate, “You had quite an adventure last night.”
Imogen paused, looking up at her. “It did get a little overly adventurous, there at the end. With the getting lost in the snow part. But you know about that—Lincoln called you.”
“I imagine it was,” Mabel said, trying to keep her tone casual. “But aside from the getting lost part, did you enjoy yourself? You weren’t lost thewholetime, after all.”
Imogen pressed her lips together, setting the fudge into a sparkly red box. There was a tiny smile at the corners of her mouth. “It was… nice,” she admitted. “I forget sometimes how easy it is to just spend time with Lincoln. We haven’t had a chance to really talk like that in years, just little snippets here and there. It was fun to reminisce over the old times—we have so many memories, after all.”
She tied off a red bow on the box. “I forgot just how much there really was that happened back then. And we got to talk a little more about the gifts we exchanged for the Secret Santa. It was more fun than I would have expected.”
