Pressing a hand to the small of my back, he moved me closer to the portable heater and held out the basket as another family passed.
Ugh, chivalry is alive and well and looks good in a felt hat.
I needed to focus. While it had been fun seeing everyone’s surprised reaction to Leo’s participation, there were plenty of disapproving looks in the crowd. Thankfully, there were a few appreciative ones as well. Many from frazzled parents, happy for a quick breather while Leo amused a child waiting to see Santa with a joke.
The amount of dad jokes he had up his sleeve was both alarming and weirdly attractive.
“So, when does the riot start?” Leo asked, eyeing the line that had dwindled.
We’d been Santa’s sentries for a couple of hours, and though the meet and greet portion of the day was almost over, many who’d come through the line still mingled in the square waiting for the announcement I’d teased in Friday’s edition of the Gazette.
The carolers kept the crowd entertained and food vendors supplied them with sweet treats and warm drinks. I checked my phone, confirming Valerie was ready for part two of the plan.
“I think now’s a good time. Leave the basket,” I said, grabbing Leo’s sleeve and tugging him through the crowd. We made our way toward a raised platform setup with a microphone stand. Off to the side was a giant red curtain, with Valerie manning a rope mechanism.
This was where things got tricky, and the whole plan could go off the rails. If Leo balked or no one agreed to play, the day would slide right into awkward territory. Leo’s riot could become a reality.
But I’d learned two things since coming home. First, Leo was surprisingly game for anything, and second, sometimes it was healthy—and a lot of fun—to let people vent their frustrations in a constructive way.
If this worked, the town might finally see Leo as more than his father’s shadow, and not someone willing to strip away what made this town special.
This moment mattered.
The town needed to remember Leo was one of them. That he could dive into their traditions with enthusiasm. They needed to see his vulnerability and willingness to face their anger head-on, even if that anger was misplaced. After all, steam only dissipated if given the opportunity.
If they could laugh together, it might be enough to break through their icy barrier. Or I might just be a witch, dressed inan elf costume, spouting tea shop wisdom, and hoping for a miracle.
I stepped up to the microphone and waited for the crowd to go quiet. I cleared my throat, hoping my nerves would settle once I got started. Since becoming an agent, I’d spoken at plenty of events, yet this felt like a new challenge.
My confidence wavered as I sized up the familiar faces. Every instinct urged me to hide the person I used to be, but I was asking Leo to put himself out there. Maybe I needed to do the same thing, too.
“Hello everyone, and welcome to today’s event. My name is Sage Bennett, and for those who don’t know me, I grew up here. I’m the reason no one is allowed to eat or drink anything at the high school science fair.”
The crowd chuckled, warming to my speech. I smoothed my anxious hands down my waist and kept going.
“But sleep potions aside, I know you're all waiting for the big announcement, and I won’t keep you in suspense any longer. We all know Leo Grayson is the new owner of the ski lodge, and it’s no secret there’s some unfavorable history there. I tried to attack him with a whisk in the tea shop when I first arrived home, and that was before I even knew about the lodge. Sorry about all the flour, Dad,” I said, waving when I spotted him in the crowd unwrapping a slab of fried dough dusted with powdered sugar. He gave me a thumbs up, then went back to eating his snack while my mother leaned in and most likely scolded him about his sugar intake.
“That said, I’m here to tell you Leo wants to make things right. He knows what you've lost and he plans to rebuild the community skating rink and a new gazebo on the resort grounds.”
A murmur of surprise flowed through the crowd.
“Let me tell you why this matters. Tradition is important in this town. The memories we have skating each winter, or sharing some of the most cherished moments of our lives under the gazebo, shouldn’t go away because of a business deal. Our voices matter. Our landmarks matter.
“But the thing is, Leo can’t do it alone. That’s where you come in. We’ve planned a series of fundraisers to help get this project off the ground in the hopes we can fund the rink by Christmas. The first fundraiser starts right now, and Leo has volunteered to take the plunge!” I pointed to Valerie waiting on the sidelines. She nodded and tugged on the rope, pulling the curtain back to reveal a giant dunk tank filled with a ball pit that resembled a mountain of snowballs.
I glanced at Leo to get his reaction. He’d dropped his head into his hands, but there was a smile toying with his lips, and he hadn’t bolted, so I pressed onward.
“That’s right—today you get to dunk Leo—our fearless elf. For charity, of course. Each shot helps fund the rink, and it’s a great way to let off a little steam. I know I have some aggravation to get out. This elf gear is itchy.” I picked up a softball and tossed it in the air, catching it in my palm. “So, who’s up first?”
I searched the crowd, hoping desperately for a volunteer.
No one moved. The gathering had gone eerily silent. A cough echoed in the air, and you could hear the crinkling of the wrapper from my dad’s fried dough.
Disappointment tangled around the growing icicle in my chest. Worse than subjecting Leo to this public display was seeing him twist in the wind. His open-minded smile had vanished, and I felt it like a punch to the gut. I knew at that moment how much their acceptance meant to him.
The same way I had longed to feel accepted. This wasn’t some silly bargain where I helped him recoup his investment. This was his life.
“I’ll give it a shot.” The voice broke through the silence in the crowd.
