Page 19 of The Best Christmas Choir Ever

Warren gave him a pointed look.

“Really, I swear.”

Warren tapped the top of his cart. “Tylenol and applesauce is my special of the day. Just saying.”

“Isn’t that the special every day?”

Warren’s lips turned up at the corner. “Pretty sure it’s the sixth food group when you hit a certain age.” He stretched. “I’m almost there myself. Everything’s starting to ache.”

“Yeah, right. You’re going to outlast both me and Diane. What I really need you to get me is something that will help me write a winning grant application.”

Warren hummed, sitting down in the chair across from Julian’s desk. “Fresh out of that, I’m afraid.”

“Figured.”

“But I’m serious,” Warren said. “You look stressed. What’s up?”

“Nothing. Just the usual music program blues.”

Warren leaned against the desk, his eyebrows lifting. “What are you talking about? That volunteer you found—Charlie? She’s fantastic.”

“You met her?”

He nodded. “I couldn’t find some of the residents in their usual hangouts. Then I heard all this commotion coming from the end of the hall. So I popped by the music room. I swear I’ve never seen it so full. Residents were literally hanging out the door, trying to get in on the action.” He barked a laugh. “Felt like some sort of exclusive club I hadn’t been invited to.”

“Really?” Julian frowned. He hadn’t had time to pop down to the music room the last few times Charlie had been here. Or more like, he’d been avoiding it. The less he put himself in her direct path, the less he had to worry about owning up to the fact that his pulse quickened every time they were in the same room together. Out of sight, out of mind.

“What do you mean, really?” Warren scoffed. “You gave her the position. Didn’t you know she could sing like that?”

Julian shrugged a bit. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, she attended Juilliard. I’ve just been a little busy up here.” He held up his Volunteers Wanted posters. His time was much better spent figuring out what to do when Charlie left. Plus, he really hadn’t wanted to deal with more of those warring sparks of annoyance and exasperation and…wistfulness? Every time the past surfaced, he was forced to remember how amazing it felt to be wanted the way Charlie had wanted him that summer. And then he’d remember how wretched it felt being left behind.

Tossed aside.

Abandoned.

When summer ended, she’d gone back to Juilliard, and he’d returned to college, but the feelings had lingered, and for a while they’d made it work. Phone calls between classes. Late night texts. Links to funny articles and memes and things that reminded them of each other.

Then it all fell off. It was slow at first, with distracted conversations and missed calls and unanswered texts. Then all at once she disappeared from his life without ever telling him why, and Julian had promised himself never again.

“Well, I’d make time to check it out if I were you,” Warren said. “Tons of residents in attendance. I could barely get through the door to check the blood sugars. Standing room only,” he joked. “If Charlie keeps this up, you could start selling tickets. Then you wouldn’t need Diane’s budget.”

“Now there’s an idea,” Julian muttered. But the fact that this would all disappear the moment Charlie left irritated him. She couldn’t just waltz back here, make this kind of impression and then ditch them. Well, she could. She could do whatever she wanted.

And that bothered him. The fact that she could come back and make him feel like this, tugging on some invisible something inside him… Julian grumbled under his breath. He wasn’t twenty-one anymore, tripping over himself because some pretty girl blinked twice at him. He needed to remember that. In fact, the sooner Charlie was out of here, the better.

His attention drifted back to his computer as an email notification pinged. It was the monthly community center newsletter. He often browsed it for activities that might interest the residents. This month an unfamiliar banner took up the top portion of the newsletter. It was an advertisement for the Elm Springs Twentieth Annual Christmas Choir Competition.

“Have you seen this?” Julian asked, clicking on it.

Warren leaned across the desk. “Every year if I’m not working. It gives the family something to do on Christmas Eve. Usually a fun time. Why?”

“No, this,” Julian said, using the mouse to direct Warren’s attention to the fine print. He read it off. “This year, the Christmas Eve event is being sponsored by the Elm Springs Arts Council, with a grand prize of twenty thousand dollars for the winning choir.” There was a website link for more information.

“Well, that’s new. I didn’t even know the Arts Council had twenty grand for that kind of thing.” Warren laughed. “Not since they commissioned that weird fountain in the town square. You know the one with all the metal dog statues?”

“I think this is a sign,” Julian said. This was the Christmas miracle he’d been hoping for!

“What is?”