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“Mayor Jacobs, beautiful night .”
“Biggest tree we’ve had yet .”
He moved through the crowd, his broad shoulders creating a path in the sea of neighbors .
“Twenty-footer this year? A little short, don’t you think ?”
“Can I get you some cocoa, Mayor ?”
“How many lights did the fire department string ?”
“Flotilla’s right around the corner. Could snow that night .”
By the time he made it to the stage, he had heard every question and comment about the tree. Did he really think a Frasier fir wa
s the best? Was it from a local farm? There were plenty of opinions, not to mention the outcry that Mellie Miller was sick. He still didn’t know if Cami was going to replace her, or if they had to rely on Georgia to tune into a Christmas station. It didn’t matter, the tree would be lit and that’s what mattered to the town. Did they really need music? It was the damn tree that counted .
It was the symbolic spirit of the community. Once the lights twinkled, it marked the official kickoff of Christmas season. It was like the reverse Super Bowl for Harpers Point. The main event came first. Everything else was just extra glitter and sparkle .
He took the steps to the platform, two at a time. The podium was in the center, anchored with enormous poinsettias. He strolled to the middle of the stage. One of the local high school students was in charge of the microphone. He handed it off to Evan .
“Sir.” He ducked out of the way so Evan could speak .
He had the instinct to steady the kid with a firm hand on his scrawny shoulder, but he realized sometimes he was intimidating. There was a time in his life when that was intentional, but he had grown up since then. He didn’t settle disputes with his fists any longer. He didn’t throw his weight around. War had humbled him. He let the moment with the kid pass and faced the crowd .
The expectant faces looked up at him. Just as he was about to speak, he heard a slow murmur start in the farthest row from the stage. He scanned the group. And then he saw her .
Fuck.
It didn’t matter if she was a hundred yards or only ten feet away, Cami was unmistakable to him. His chest seized silently as she made her way to the stage .
The skinny kid helped her up the stairs and she stood a few feet behind Evan. He looked at her over his shoulder. Was he supposed to be grateful she was here? Was he supposed to thank her for saving the tree lighting? Was he supposed to feel relief she was here instead of back in Nashville? He wanted to feel the anger and resentment he felt twelve years ago. Damn it .
He didn’t feel any of those things. He looked in her eyes and knew he was in trouble .
Seven
Cami
H is eyes locked on hers and she didn’t know if she could breathe. There was clapping and whistling coming from the crowd, but for a second all she could do was stare. Stare into the eyes that held so much from the past .
Ten minutes ago, Cami had been trying to get the ovens working in The Sweet Treat , when Claudine and Georgia burst in pleading with her to help with a town emergency .
She didn’t have time to change or even brush her hair. She grabbed her coat and ran out of the shop as they explained they needed her to sing. Sing? Her palms were instantly sweaty and her throat clamped shut. They tugged on her wrists while she tried to catch up to what was going on. Something about strep throat and O Christmas Tree . She heard the ooos and ohhs as she sped through the crowd. Everything inside her told her to make a break for it and run back to the warm kitchen of the candy shop. She didn’t belong in the center of town. Maybe if she stared hard enough, Evan would see that story in her eyes. He would know what she was feeling. She didn’t want to be on this stage any more than he wanted her to be here. But they had hurried her toward City Hall before she could adequately protest .
And now she was facing the town and facing the man who could still steal her breath with a single look .
Someone nudged her forward and she jerked off balance .
Evan grabbed her elbow before she completely fell. “Thanks,” she whispered .
He was stiff as he handed her the microphone. “Would you do the honors?” he asked .
She leaned to his ear, catching a whiff of his cologne. Her eyes closed. “What am I singing ?”
He looked puzzled. His hand covered the mic. “O Christmas Tree , and then I’ll push the button to light the tree,” he explained. “Got it ?”
Her stomach flipped as she nodded. “Got it .”
