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The lights that are strung up all around the gazebo area fade on and off, signaling the start of the show. I tuck my hands into my pockets, my eyes never leaving Penny as the bell ensemble begins.
Like always, she captivates me.
And I know the exact moment she spots me because chaos ensues.
Chapter Two
Penny
“You shouldn’t be here.”
If I had the energy, I would roll my eyes and tell my sister-in-law Gretchen to mind her business—in the sassy sisterly way that best friends can talk to each other. I would also passionately tell her how she’s overreacting to a simple head cold. I love being a part of the All My Jingle Ladies bell ensemble group. I’ve been looking forward to this event for the last month.
But I don’t have the energy to tell her any of that. I honestly don’t know how I’m still standing. The cold meds have kicked in, but I’m not feeling any better.
I feel like I’m swallowing broken glass every time I try to talk, and even with several layers on, my body is still secretly quaking with chills. If I weren’t wearing a puffy oversized winter jacket, everyone would be able to tell.
“You sound like Gigi. She said the same thing.”
“And Gigi is a very smart friend. Just like me,” Gretchen sasses back. I love her, I really do. When my brother fell in love with Gretchen and her daughter last year, I was over-the-moon happy for him. I honestly thought he would never find someone. Not with his football career and bah humbug attitude. Yet she came along and literally knocked him off his feet.
She is the best. But she needs to mind her own business.
“I’m fine,” I croak in her direction, not bothering to look up from where I’m slightly adjusting my bells. Moving them by millimeters on the table, hoping to look busy and not like walking death.
“You’re a horrible liar, Penny. Seriously, you’re sick. You should go home. We got this.”
Indignation burns through my chest. I don’t want to be left out of this performance. I don’t want to—once again—be excluded, to be pushed away. The rational part of my brain knows Gretchen is only saying this because she loves me and is looking out for my wellbeing. That doesn’t matter at the moment. I want to be here,needto be here.
“Just,” I push out, feeling out of breath with that one word, “just let me do this. I’ll go home straight after and fall into a cold med coma. But I want to be here, no matter what.”
Gretchen eyes me, her lips twisting up to one side as she decides what she’s going to do. As the leader of our group, the final decision is up to her. We have a substitute ringer always ready. Wrist injuries are a real thing for professional bell ringers.
Her sigh is long and deep before she finally relents. “Fine.” She points a finger at me in warning. “But the second our set is over, I’m getting Noah to drive you home.”
“I don’t need him to drive me home. I can call an Uber.”
“Noahwill drive you home,” she repeats, putting as much authority as she can into the sentence. “He’ll take one look at you after the show and insist. You know this.”
Knowing I’m not going to win this argument, I nod. “Fine. If and when he gets here, I’ll ask for him to drive me home.”
Wrapping me up in her arms, she squeezes me tight. I fall into her, giving her most of my weight. Just for a second. I need a second of rest. “I want what’s best for you, Pen. I know it’s been a hard season.”
Pressing my face deeper into the curve of her neck, I nod. I can’t put words to what I’m feeling, but she’s right. This last month, really since the first snowfall, has been hard. Work has been getting progressively worse, and with my parents in Florida, I’m feeling a little out of sorts.
I know Gretchen and Noah would welcome me at their house at any time, but they have their own little family they’re growing. I don’t want to intrude and feel like a fifth wheel. Pretending everything is okay is more exhausting than I ever thought.
Stepping back, I muster up the best smile I can and give Gretchen’s shoulder a tap. “I’ve got this. Now, let’s give the people what they want.”
Gretchen laughs, and I make some kind of monster-sounding wheeze before she calls for the members of our group to prepare. My brain goes a little fuzzy, but I recognize the whispered chatter around me as the women take their places at the table beside me.
Loud feedback from a microphone has the audience gasping before it’s cut off and a voice booms out over the snow-covered field. I squint out into the distance and am pleasantly surprised when I see the whole area crowded with people here to watch our performance, paper cups and tumblers held between their hands for warmth as they wait.
“Holiday enthusiasts! Thank you so much for coming out to our annual Holiday Market and supporting your local vendors and town. It’s a chilly night tonight, but that’s not going to stop us from ringing in”—the MC pauses to laugh at his little joke—“the holiday season with our very own All My Jingle Ladies bell ensemble group! So, without any more delay from me, take it away, All My Jingle Ladies!”
My eyes flick away from the MC out to the crowd one more time. It’s only a second, a bat of my lashes, but in that second, I see him. The image may not be clear, and it might be the cold meds making me imagine things…but I think Carter is here.
My head falls backward, imploring the Gods for help as I look to the dark sky. The groan that leaves me is both from the aches all over my body and the knowledge that my nemesis is here.
