“Why not?”
“Roan was the athlete. My cousins too. I was the odd man out, preferring books and theatre to sports. Fortunately, I don’t have to actually be agile and athletic to play the part. I just have to look right. And yeah, you’re right. I have a weird job. But it feels like the only thing I’ve ever been good at. Without it, I don’t know who I am. Or maybe I’d go back to who I was. The kid with the stutter who avoided speaking unless spoken to. The kid chosen last for a team.”
She didn’t say anything, just nodded.
“Playing other people has always been easier than being myself.”
“We all create ways to cope with whatever happens to us,” Mauve said.
“Like your distrust of Christmas?”
“Yes, I suppose so.” She placed the palm of her hand on the sleeve of his sweater. He felt the heat of her skin even through the cashmere. “What do you want going forward?” Mauve asked. “Like what would the perfect career look like to you?”
“Mostly I just want to keep working. In roles I enjoy and that challenge me. And I want to be good. Respected by my peers. Popular with fans, so I keep getting offers. There’s the money part of it too. Growing up with a single mom made me hungry.”
“I can understand that. Money was tight in our family too. My dad worked at an auto repair place. Mom took odd jobs sometimes.” Her eyes glazed over for a second before she looked back at him. “I just remembered something. There were years and years when my mom took a temporary job at a department store during the holidays. She worked long hours all throughout the season. Which meant my sister and I were kind of on our own. We never put a tree up until a few days before Christmas because she was always working. My dad was a full-blown Grinch, so we never did any Christmas activities. No skating or hot chocolate or visits to the gingerbread house competition.”
The more he got to know her, the more he came to understand how complex her feelings were about the holidays. Not everyone was lucky enough to have a family like Grace and Walter’s. Too many were faced with loneliness or financial problems or loss. It wasn’t like the movies on television his mother had loved when she was alive. She’d watched her favorites every year without fail. Stories full of heart and hope had been her favorites. “No wonder you have a strained relationship with Christmas,” Jason said.
“I thought it was all related to Chris, but maybe there’s more to it.”
“It also helps me to understand why you’re so attached to Sugarville Grove.”
“You think I’m searching for what I didn’t have as a kid?” Mauve asked. “Tree lightings? Carolers popping up around town? The annual snowball fight? Until I moved here, I didn’t know stuff like that actually happened or that there were towns like Sugarville Grove.”
“This town’s always been in love with Christmas.”
“I wonder how all the traditions started?”
“We should ask Kris,” Jason said. “He knows everything that happens or happened in this town.”
Kris Olaffson was not only the postman and town gossip, he also played Santa every Christmas. Out at Max’s country store, Santa’s Village came to life and Kris was right there to enact the part of everyone’s favorite fat man. Aunt Grace said people lined up on the weekends for their chance to talk to Santa.
By then, they’d had their fill of dinner. However, they still had room for some of the dark chocolate Grace had left for them.
They’d just finished the last of it when they heard bells coming back through the meadow, faint at first, then closer.
“It’s time to go,” Jason said.
“I wish we could stay here forever, but reality’s returned,” Mauve said, getting up from the table.
“Yes, unfortunately.”
They didn’t talk as they donned their jackets and hats for the cold journey back to the car. Jason tied his scarf around Mauve’s neck, and it smelled like him. She wished she could keep it forever.
He looked into her eyes, then kissed her. “Thanks for making a new, wonderful memory of this place.”
“Thank you for bringing me here. I’ll never forget it.”
Jason stoked the stove down for safety, and they stepped outside just as the sleigh came to a halt in front of the shack. Hank tipped his cap.
“Don’t get down,” Jason said to him. “It’s cold for the horses, so we’ll hustle.”
He helped Mauve into the sleigh, then ran around to his side. Soon, they were snuggled back under the blankets, the purple sky above them alit with stars so sharp they might have cut glass.
“The sky’s not like this in L.A.” Jason said, almost to himself.
“It’ll always be here for you. Whenever you need it.”
