“I imagine it would take time and plenty of hair gel to get it into position,” I replied cautiously.
Amy laughed.
But then my eyes wandered, searching for Candace’s youthful face. There she was with the third-grade super-short cut she’d told me about. It hadn’t beenthatbad. She was smiling so hard in the picture that I felt my lips twist before I gave them permission. She had on a purple baby-doll dress over black leggings as she posed in the school photo.
Next to it was another framed picture, an image of Candace in her early teens. She had a mouthful of braces and was holding up an award on eighth-grade graduation night. I recognized this version of her—the hardworking overachiever, the girl in the accelerated classes, the one who gave reports to the class without a tremor in her voice. My thumb stroked the smooth corner of the wooden frame before I replaced it on the ledge.
My gaze scanned to the next picture of Candace on the shelf below. She was maybe five or six years old and stuffed in the narrow backseat of a Judd’s Orchard work truck with a slightly older Brady. It looked like they were mid-battle. The lines of their bodies were indistinct and blurred with motion so quick, the camera couldn’t keep up. His arm was locked around her head while she dug an elbow into the top of his thigh.
Again, my grin came unbidden. I didn’t have siblings, so I lacked the lived experience of loving someone while also looking for any way to irritate them. Brady and Candace had struck a good balance as adults. They called each other names and stole each other’s food, but they’d be the first ones to step up if their sibling needed help with a flat tire, or a ride to the airport, or a prank on a shared enemy.
Despite the inherent violence, it was endearing to see this photo of them in a moment of diabolical sibling rivalry.
“I didn’t know children could fight so much until Candace came along,” Amy said, startling me. I’d been lost in the framed photographs and had forgotten she was there.
She ignored my obvious surprise and watched me carefully. “Joan was different, unconcerned with things like bickering and fighting. It was probably the age difference as much as her personality. But Brady and Candace were close enough, with only three years between them, that they fought like cats and dogs. Oh, they had fun too, but I’ll never forget the day she tied him to the rolling desk chair and put makeup on every inch of his face. He got her back by putting eighteen slugs in her bed.”
I choked on my laughter and Amy grinned, enjoying my reaction.
My eyes drifted back to the girl with braces, the one who’d become my teenage crush in just a few short years. The classmate I never had the nerve to talk to. The homecoming queen who lived in my hazy memories.
And now, the daydream laughing with her dad in the next room.
When I turned back to Amy, I found her watching me, a soft smile on her face and hazel eyes so much like her daughter’s. She didn’t have to say anything, I already knew what she was thinking. So I simply smiled back.
“Are y’all coming to eat or what?” Candace called suddenly from the kitchen.
Just then, the front door banged open, bringing with it Brady and Joan and a burst of cold December air.
The six of us squeezed around the kitchen table and ate hearty beef stew ladled over creamy whipped potatoes. The Judds teased and laughed, and I mostly watched and listened while Candace’s leg pressed against mine beneath the poinsettia-printed tablecloth.
And when Candace grinned and broke the news, the only two people who were surprised were Nick and Brady. Joan simply grabbed another roll from the basket and told Brady she wasn’t surprised he hadn’t solved the mystery of the Apple House vandal with detective skills like that.
Amy gave us that same soft, knowing smile I’d seen in the living room, but this time, her hazel eyes were filled with unshed tears as she hugged us both.
nineteen
MARK
“And you’re sure you’re okay with going to the Christmas party?” Candace asked from the passenger seat of my truck a week later. She was worrying her bottom lip again, and I hated that I’d made her so fretful.
I offered up a reassuring smile as I turned onto the long drive that would lead us to Grandpappy’s. “Yeah. I think it’ll be fun.”
The Clarks were good people. I knew nearly everyone who’d be attending simply due to sharing a town and being neighbors in the same line of work. I wasn’t particularly worried about them judging Candace for dating me. She’d become good friends with Bonnie and Mac and Laramie in the months since she’d returned to Kirby Falls.
Plus, the gathering at the farm across the highway had the added benefit of taking place after hours. Or it would be. Candace and I were headed over a little early to help Bonnie set up. There were a few cars and stragglers in the parking lot, but the farm closed at five on Sundays, so the Clarks had decided that would be the best time for their holiday party.
When we got out of the truck, Candace still looked a little nervous, so I reached over and threaded her fingers through mine.
I didn’t know that I’d ever been over to Grandpappy’s during the holiday season, but their decorations were very festive. Our steps slowed as we entered the maingate from the parking area. The freestanding ticket booth was closed at the late hour, but it had been turned into a tiny elf house complete with a red-and-white signpost announcing the North Pole.
“Whoa,” Candace breathed as she took in the General Store. It had large-bulb multicolored lights strung all over and the log cabin–like structure had been decorated to look like a gingerbread house.
Garland and white lights were draped along every fence line. We followed the main path past the field they typically used for a pumpkin patch. Now it held a vast collection of evergreens, in all shapes and sizes. The Grandpappy’s Christmas tree lot was twice the size of the one at Judd’s. We continued walking until we ran into MacKenzie.
“Hey, y’all,” she greeted. “I’m just going out to round up the rest of the tourists. We have a few folks who can’t read the closing time on the sign out front.”
“We came a little early to help Bonnie,” Candace said.
