Page 45 of Always Almost You

Lauren smiled slowly. “That sounds magical.”

“It is. Though we’re short on voices this year.” She studied Lauren. “Are you by any chance a singer?”

“I’m a soprano. I sang in my college choir for four years.”

“I’m Helen, by the way,” the woman said. “Would you join us?”

Lauren glanced down at Pumpkin.

“Is she welcome?”

“Absolutely. I’m bringing my dog.”

Lauren drew in a breath. Reading in her hotel room could wait another night. “Yes. I’m Lauren, and this is Pumpkin. We’d love to join you.”

The woman clapped her hands with delight. “Wonderful! That blue dress will be perfect.”

Lauren changed back into her clothes and returned to the register. “Add the dress,” she said firmly.

The proprietor folded it carefully in tissue paper and sealed it with a gold-embossed boutique sticker.

“The dress is on the house,” she said. “To thank you for joining our merry band on short notice.”

Lauren’s eyes widened. “I can’t possibly⁠—”

“I insist.”

Pumpkin thumped her tail approvingly. “You Newport people are dangerously kind,” Lauren said.

Helen smiled. “See you at 5:45, dear. You’re going to turn heads.”

CHAPTER 31

Lauren and Pumpkin joined the group of carolers gathering at the northeast corner of Spring and Mary Streets. Twinkle lights wrapped the lamppost above them, casting a golden glow across the small crowd. People stamped their boots against the brick sidewalk to keep warm, and their breath crystalized into frozen droplets as they exhaled.

Lauren scanned the faces for Helen, not finding her. She hung back, uncertain, suddenly aware she was a stranger stepping into a long-standing tradition.

The clerk from the shoe store where she had bought her knee-length, lug-soled black boots caught her eye. He glanced pointedly at her feet and gave an approving nod.

Lauren grinned and gave him a thumbs-up. He had steered her firmly away from the sleek, leather-soled boots with the three-inch stacked heel she’d admired. Treacherous on brick and cobblestone, he’d warned. The short two-block walk from the Vanderbilt had proven him right. Even in sensible boots, she’d felt the slick sheen of packed snow beneath her soles.

An older man wearing earmuffs and a thick knit cap stepped toward her. “You must be Lauren,” he said warmly. “Helen called to let us know you’d be joining us.”

Lauren felt her shoulders relax. She hadn’t realized how tense she was until that moment.

“There she is now,” the man added, pointing behind her.

Lauren turned just as Helen hurried toward the group, slightly breathless. “I was halfway here before I realized I’d forgotten these,” Helen said, holding up a stack of stapled music packets. “If my head weren’t screwed on … ” She began distributing the booklets.

Pumpkin, sensing excitement, wove gently between boots and coats, sniffing hems and accepting pats from gloved hands. A man bent to scratch behind her ears. “Well, aren’t you the festive one?” he chuckled.

Helen handed Lauren a packet and took her place beside her. “I’m so glad you came,” Helen said. “Another soprano called out this afternoon. She’s down with the flu. I would’ve been on my own.” She tipped her head conspiratorially. “We’ll have to sing extra loud. The tenors always try to overpower us.”

Lauren laughed. “Then let’s let it rip.”

Helen’s eyes sparkled. “Are you wearing the blue dress?”

Lauren nodded. “Though no one can see it under this raincoat. It’s too cold to unbutton.”