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“That was Granddad’s?” James leaned in for a better look. “How did it end up here?”
Mr. Bailey looked up thoughtfully into the snowfall and then softly chuckled. “I had almost forgotten.” He brought his focus back to James. “Your grandfather gave it to Mr. Paxton many years ago on one of his visits here. He told me that Mr. Paxton needed it more than he did.”
Mr. Bailey smiled and pointed to the golden letters stitched near the fringe as the crowd drew closer. “Do you see the embroidery here? Those are his initials, but it’s this phrase here underneath that I don’t recognize.”
James gently took the scarf and showed it to me as he read aloud. “The Stewards? Who are they?”
And then realization draped itself over me like a warm blanket on a cold night.
Of course.
The framed picture of my and Sam’s grandfathers.
The old baseball card of Hal’s.
The compass, which I just now remembered belonged to Ann’s grandmother, and it used to sit on the counter near Ann’s register in the bookstore.
It all made sense now.
I gently took the scarf from James. “They were a group of people from Mullings Creek. They called themselves the Stewards because they felt called to protect our town and swore that they would always make sure that whatever happened here was for the good of all of us.” I paused and looked around me at the crowd, several of whom were nodding, having heard this story before. “Many of us had family members in that group a long time ago.”
Sandy barked, and I smiled down at her before giving the scarf back to Mr. Bailey. “Mr. Paxton was a Steward. Maybe he hoped you’d come back one day, and that you could be one, too,” I said.
James beamed as his father took the scarf and carefully wrapped it around his neck.
“I’m honored you thought of me,” he said to Sandy, patting her head before his now misty eyes scanned the quiet crowd around him. “Thank you for allowing us to be a part of this special tradition. This evening was…” He laid his hand on his scarf for a moment, swallowing hard. “This evening was one I will always remember.” And with that, he turned away and began walking back toward the B&B.
James looked at me wide-eyed and held up his crossed fingers before he followed him.
“Did we just witness a Christmas miracle?” Leo asked, suddenly appearing at my side.
“Maybe, bud.” I smiled when the lights on Mistletoe Lane flickered back on, revealing Mr. Bailey with his arm around his son’s shoulders, now walking side by side in a swirl of snow flurries.
Maybe we did.
Chapter Thirty-One
“We could be happy anywhere as long as we’re together.”
—Meet Me in St. Louis
Normally, I helped decorate and set up for the Mistletoe Masquerade, even though I never went to it, after celebrating Christmas with my family, but this year Jo had ordered me to put my phone on Do Not Disturb so I could actually enjoy my day. And I had. Mom and Nona had surprised me with a new set of luggage that I promptly started to pack, and Leo had spent most of his day finding things he could look at under his new microscope. It was a day filled with laughter and a marathon of Christmas movies before Jo came over to get ready for the dance.
We blasted our favorite playlists in my room while doing our makeup as Bianca did our hair. Jo’s gown was stunning, a long-sleeved off-the-shoulder deep midnight-blue sheath dress with a small, glittery belt of snowflakes. Though I didn’t think it possible, I loved my dress even more now than when I first saw it. When I spun around in front of my full-length mirror and ran my hands over the chiffon, I did feel as pretty and as powerful as Betty in White Christmas.
Mom, Nona, and Jo’s dads teared up when we made our grand entrances down the stairs, but before we posed for prom-style pictures, Nona said, “I believe you’re missing something, Gianna.” She smiled and handed me a small gift bag under the tree, and wrapped delicately inside the tissue paper was the prettiest mask I had ever seen.
Black with red outlines meant to look like lace, it framed my eyes perfectly, but my favorite part was the delicate red-laced poinsettia on the top right corner, which had a tiny pop of green-laced leaves behind it. I hugged Nona tightly before slipping the mask on and standing next to Jo, now donning a mask of her own, dark blue with intricate metalwork meant to resemble lace.
Bianca and the rest of my cousins, aunts, and uncles had already left by the time we stepped outside into the cool, damp air. I lifted my face to the cloudy sky and breathed in the familiar smell of earth mixed with the sharpness of the cold. Maybe we would actually get snow on Christmas this year?
The live band could be heard from the street as we pulled up and parked moments later, but while the rest of my family and Jo’s seemed anxious to get inside, I lingered at the main entrance of The Market, nerves twisting knots in my stomach.
Would tonight be the night we heard Mr. Bailey’s decision?
Would Sam come?
And if he did, would he finally tell me how he felt?
