Page 108
“Apparently, I could be someday,” I said as we walked to our usual spot and sat with our backs against the railing facing Mistletoe Lane. “It’s why I have to get blood work done every few years.”
Jo cringed. “I hate needles.”
“Eh, they don’t bother me much anymore.” When you got allergy tested annually and had a series of monthly shots, needles became an afterthought.
I took a chestnut out of our shared paper cup and popped it into my mouth. The warm potato-like texture had just the right amount of sweet mixed with nutty, but my favorite part was always the lingering taste of caramel.
“I can’t wait to do this someday. Make food that makes people feel good,” Jo said before she ate a chestnut and sighed happily. “Something that makes them think about it long after they’ve finished, so it becomes this like…I dunno…this memory attached to the taste.” She looked up toward the crescent moon.
“You already make food like that,” I said. “Everything you bake is delicious, but what’s more is that you can taste the love you put in it.” I laid my hand over hers. “Nona always said great food changes hearts more than stomachs. You’re already there, and you’ll only get better.”
“Thanks.” She laid her hand on top of mine and nudged me. “Love you.”
“Love you back.”
I leaned forward as the bells chimed around us. The town square tree sparkled as a group of kids wearing illuminated necklaces wove in and out of the candy cane fence surrounding it. Their parents stood nearby, sharing cups of roasted chestnuts and leaning their heads against one another. Sandy—surprisingly still wearing the red hat Aunt Sofia made for her—padded her way along the sidewalk, stopping outside of the diner where Phineas promptly opened the door and tossed her a treat. Gram and Nona laughed as they walked arm in arm before they ducked into Eve’s Drop for their traditional Saturday-night tea-and-gossip session with their “book club.” And down the block, Ann locked up her bookstore and adjusted the hat on her snowman, the sleigh bell on the end of her Santa hat jingling as she walked to her car.
I didn’t know what the next year would bring or what Christmas would look like if we didn’t have The Market anymore, but what I did know was this:
Mullings Creek would keep going.
Because of the people who lived here.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“There’s a certain magic that comes with the very first snow.”
—Frosty the Snowman
Jo, Sam, and I had our Government final Monday afternoon, the last day of the semester. After reviewing and quizzing each other all morning at Eve’s Drop, we all felt confident, although the short-answer questions were always a little hard to prepare for. Mr. Bennington stood at the door and gave us each a candy cane on our way out as he wished us a Merry Christmas. I immediately started unwrapping mine before popping the straight end into my mouth when my phone buzzed with an alert.
I stopped in the middle of the hallway and checked it.
James: Just imagine…you’ll be in front of a building like this next year in NYC!
He attached a selfie of a huge stone building with towers in the center and then sent another couple messages. His father stood off to the side on his phone.
Naturally.
Could the guy seriously not put it away for a few hours with his own son?
James: That’s Healy Hall
James: Part of Georgetown University
I called Jo over and took a selfie with both of us and our candy canes hanging out of our mouths and sent it to him.
Me: This is the “History Hallway”—part of Mullings Creek High
Me: Not nearly as pretty though
The conversation bubble popped up immediately before his next message followed.
James: I disagree
Jo made an oooh sound behind me before catching up with Sam and Isaiah at the end of the hallway. But while my cheeks definitely warmed at James’s comment, I couldn’t ignore the cold guilt that had thickened in the back of my throat.
James would come back here in a day or two, and then what?
