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“It’s not about perfection,” Hannah said gently. “It’s about everybody trying their hardest. It’s amazing to me what we can achieve when we work together.”
“I have to agree with that,” Stanley Kenner said, lifting his bell. “The important thing is that we have fun, and I certainly have fun. I like to whack the heck out of this bell. It helps me work out all my aggressions.”
Laughter bubbled up in her. “I can tell. Your enthusiasm is an inspiration to all of us, Stanley. But maybe save a little of that aggression for the performance.”
A few chuckles rolled around the room.
“I think with one more practice, you’ll be ready for the concert,” she added.
“We’ll practice more than that,” Mabel assured her, narrowing her eyes at the others. “I’ll post a schedule on the bulletin board. Not optional.”
Hannah only hoped Mabel could remember that the most important part of music was enjoying it.
It wasn’t about hitting every note perfectly. It was about the way people’s faces softened when they sang together, the way old memories woke up, the way a shaky hand could suddenly stay steady long enough to ring at the right moment.
When people performed from the heart, audiences responded. She had seen it more times than she could count, and it never stopped feeling a little bit like a miracle.
That thought warmed her as she packed up her things and went to collect Carter and Riley.
“How is everything going?” McKenna asked, gesturing to the children, who were laughing together as they played a game in the living room.
“It hasn’t even been two weeks yet,” Hannah said. “We haven’t quite settled into a routine. I think they seem to be doing okay, though.”
“What have you heard from Morgan?” McKenna asked.
“We’ve been FaceTiming every night before the children go to bed,” Hannah said. “She seems to be in relatively good spirits, but I know she tires easily.”
The children started bickering about something to do with the game and Nora chose that moment to yank on one of Hazel’s braids. Her sister shrieked and jumped up, forcing McKenna to step between them.
“I mean, I wouldn’t wish cancer on anyone,” McKenna said dryly once order had been restored. “And I can’t imagine how terrifying that must be for Morgan. But I’ve got to say, I wouldn’t mind a few weeks where I could read all day if I wanted to. Some days I almost miss being on bed rest with my youngest.”
Hannah had to laugh. She knew McKenna adored her children and would lay down her life for them without hesitation. But after only a week of being responsible for two small humans, she didn’t know how her friends or her twin sister did it all day, every day.
After the chaos of hugs, locating missing mittens and saying goodbye to their friends, Carter and Riley helped her push the heavy cart of supplies outside.
A light snow had begun to fall, catching the glow of the parking lot lamps and turning the air into a swirl of silver confetti. Thankfully, the snow wasn’t deep enough yet to clog the cart wheels.
A truck with dark-tinted windows idled several spots down from hers. She frowned. It looked like the same vehicle she’d noticed a few nights ago on her street.
Probably nothing, she told herself. Plenty of people drove trucks in Shelter Springs. Still, a faint unease fluttered low in her stomach.
“Can we have pizza for dinner?” Carter asked as they reached her SUV.
“All you ever want is pizza,” Riley said. “I want McDonald’s.”
“How about lasagna?” Hannah countered, opening the back hatch. “My mom texted me earlier and told me she fixed us a casserole and put it in my refrigerator earlier today. All we have to do is heat it.”
She was deeply grateful for her family. Her mom had always been that way. In a world that could turn upside down without warning, her family had always been her steady, warm center. She never took that for granted.
“I like lasagna,” Riley said.
“Me too,” Carter agreed, though his tone held the reluctant resignation of a small boy who knew this meant no pepperoni.
They finished loading the cart into the cargo area and she helped the kids climb into the back seat. She had just snapped Carter’s booster seat buckle when Riley suddenly sat up straighter, pressing her nose to the window.
“Hey! There’s our friend Kodi!”
Hannah turned, her breath catching when she saw a big dog limping toward them, fur dusted with snowflakes. Beside him walked a man in a dark coat, his shoulders broad and familiar in a way that made something inside her tighten.
