They used to do that at the tree farm too in years past. Kids would rush through the fields, shouting in delight when they’d found the one for them. They’d watch in awe as we wrapped the tree in twine and attached it to the roof of their car, knowing presents would soon sit beneath those decorated branches.
The tension eased from my shoulders, and an incredible feeling expanded inside my chest.Unbelievable…Even though we hadn’t been part of those families, we were soaking it all in. Just like Delia had said. Their joy had transferred to us and that had made what we were doing special.
Maybe that was why my dad had loved the farm so much.
Clearing his throat, the mayor turned his attention back to me. “Jack. I know this is a tough time of year for you and your family, and in recent times there’s been a lot of conflict. But you did all right, helping us out this year, and that needs to be said.”
The mayor extended his hand, and I hesitantly reached out to shake it. “Thanks, sir.”
“If you’re around next year, we’d like to do business again. Not a donation. This time we’ll place an order in advance. Just speak with my assistant.”
My mouth opened, but nothing came out. Could I make it another year? Did I want to? Those hadn’t even been questions until recently.No,and No. Don’t bother asking.But now? Maybe I should give it some thought.
“I’ll let you know, sir. Thank you.”
He clapped his hand on my back and then wandered off into the crowd. Almost in a daze, I followed the stream of people, walking under a huge festival banner, and into the holiday market. Grandma Jean and her ladies’ club had a booth set up somewhere in the throng of vendors. That’s where I’d find Delia, likely taking notes for her article while absorbing all the Christmas vibes. There was enough here to last all year.
I walked the edge of the market, stopping to peer at some of the items. Grandma Jean could use a new scarf, something navy blue with moons and stars would look nice, or maybe some scented candles. I’d have to come up with something and grab some of that silver wrapping paper. A bow would be good.
It had been ages since I’d bought any Christmas presents, and even if I did, where was I going to put them? Under the bare tree in the common room? Next to the mantle void of stockings? A laugh formed in my throat. I really was a Scrooge.
“Excuse, me.” A little girl tugged on the sleeve of my coat. “This is for you.”
I stared down at her as she passed me a candy cane with a slip of paper tied to the end. After she scurried off into the crowd, I removed the paper and read the note.
Check your pocket.
My brow wrinkled as I patted down the sides of my coat. There was something thin and square inside my pocket, which was odd since there hadn’t been anything there when I left the inn. Kind of like how there hadn’t been a heart in my cappuccino foam or snow in the forecast the day we went tree hunting, yet we got six inches.
Must be magic.Grandma Jean’s go-to saying whispered in my mind. I was starting to believe it.
I removed the box from my pocket. It was about the size of a coaster and tied with a red bow. Lifting the lid, I pulled back the tissue paper to reveal a small tree ornament in the shape of a raccoon. Another slip of paper lay beneath the ornament, and I suppressed a grin at the slanted script.
They didn’t have any opossums. Merry Christmas from the One Who Wouldn’t Leave. P.S. Meet over by the hot chocolate stand. You’re buying.
My gaze instantly snapped to the crowd as I searched for the hot chocolate stand. Where was that thing? I followed the green cardboard cups, spotting the line that wrapped around one of the booths. Was that a spring in my step?Easy pal…I forced myself to slow down, strolling casually toward the back of the line.
“Hey, Jack.” Becky waved and held up a similar note-tied candy cane. “Let me guess, you got one of these as well?”
“What’s going on? Where’s Delia?” The line moved, and I looked over the tops of people’s heads to find her. It had been way too long, and I craved seeing her candy cane striped scarf, her wicked grin, and eyes made of pure mischief. I hoped she was wearing her new boots.
“Wait. You seriously haven’t noticed?” Becky unwrapped the plastic around her candy cane and stuck the curved end between her teeth.
“Noticed what?”
“The matchmaking. It seems Delia has gotten it in her head that you and I should be an item. I suspect Grandma Jean put her up to it or maybe Delia thought it would be a fun twist for her article. You know the Spells and Brews club are always hosting those mixers. Either way, it’s pretty obvious.”
Was that why Delia constantly pointed out Becky’s qualities? I shook my head as I saw everything in a new light. “You didn’t put a heart in my cappuccino foam, did you?”
“Nope! And I bet you didn’t write me a cute note on a napkin with your phone number.”
“I didn’t. Did you leave a box of my favorite pastry on the front porch of the inn?”
Becky smirked. “I don’t even know what your favorite pastry is.”
My head was spinning. How had I missed it? Actually, that wasn’t a hard question. I’d been so completely focused on Delia since she’d arrived, that the ground could have opened up in front of me, and I would have walked blindly into it. But it was time to set things straight. No more avoiding the subject or letting things go unsaid. If Delia wanted a twist for her article, she needed the right headline:
Lonely Tree Farmer Falls for Plucky Paranormal Writer.
