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“Hmm? Oh.” She waved a hand. “Who’s to say? Must’ve read about it somewhere. You wanna talk about it some more, or should we move poor Amos along? Come on, Charlton.” She pushed past me, leading Amos and Emmaline.
I blinked after her. “Jeez, someone’s not even trying to win the bet anymore,” I muttered, hurrying to catch up.
Sure enough, when we squeezed our way down Walnut Street to the square, there was a large white tent selling coffee and snacks. Folding tables and chairs formed an impromptu outdoor cafe with portable space heaters warming the area. Most of the area was already packed with Thicketeers exchanging intel on what kind of deals they’d gotten or exchanging bags of gifts to be hidden at each other’s houses to foil pre-Christmas present-snoopers.
I gestured everyone toward an empty table under a heater at the edge of the tent and went to place our drink order. At the last minute, I added in some pumpkin-shaped cookies that looked good.
By the time I got back, our table was surrounded by chatty friends and family members… including Lurleen Jackson, who jumped up from her seat as soon as I arrived and tried to push me into it.
“Juni—Charlie,” she beamed. “Don’t you look terrific in that sweater? I love a man in cashmere. No, no, you sit here. Right here. I insist. I only ran over for a minute to say hello to your mother. I need to finish up my shopping and see where those children of mine have gone. How was your Thanksgiving, sweetie? I can’t tell you how excited I was to hear from your mother that you were having such a…” Lurleen and my mother exchanged a mischievous look. “… nice holiday.”
The two of them, along with Emmaline, collapsed into giggles, and even Amos snorted. I resisted rolling my eyes.
“It’s been great, Mrs. Jackson,” I said courteously, though I could feel my face getting warm in a way that had nothing to do with the space heaters. “Really… wonderful.”
“Not as wonderful as it’s gonna be,” she said mysteriously.
I had no idea what she was talking about, and at that moment, I couldn’t make myself care, even to be polite. As much as I loved being part of the town again, it was hard to relax and enjoy the festive atmosphere when so much was left unsettled between Hunter and me. I was impatient to get my errands done and get home. Heck, at this point, part of me wished Hunter would show up looking for his mother, just so I could pull him aside for a private moment to ground myself in our connection… though the rest of me was very glad he wasn’t around to hear the teasing and feel the curious stares of the Thicket gossips.
I shoved an entire cookie in my mouth and took a big sip of my too-hot coffee to save myself from needing to make conversation, and as I chewed, I internally debated bringing up Amos’s latest X-rated cow message.
Any diversion would be welcome, I decided.
And that was when I noticed the six-foot-tall turkey-man striding across the street.
A feathered headpiece and blue bow sat atop his cap of windblown brown hair, and a pink wattle nestled beneath a beard my fingertips had stroked only hours before. His colorful tail feathers bobbed in the wind as he walked confidently toward me, flanked by half the Jackson clan… and several highly amused Johnsons for good measure.
I spit my cookie all over the sidewalk.
Mom, Amos, Emmaline, Lurleen, and everyone else in the cafe area turned to see what had caught my eye. And as the turkey man got closer, I noticed the sign in his hands. The same sign I’d carried two days before.
Junior Nutter stole Hunter Jackson’s turkey.
Only this time, the word Junior was crossed out with a big red line, and Charlton was written atop it.
And the word turkey had been crossed out and replaced with the word heart.
My jaw dropped, and my heart began to thunder. I glanced from the sign to his face. His jaw was firm and his shoulders set stubbornly as ever, but I could see anxiety in his eyes. I stood up and walked toward him. The grin on my face had to have been large enough to see from this distance.
“Hi,” Hunter said, fidgeting with the sign. The entire town seemed to hold its breath while they watched the spectacle.
“Hey,” I said softly.
“It, ah, occurred to me that I have some things I should probably tell you. So this morning, I got my mom on board, and she got your mom involved to get you here.” His gaze bounced from me to our mothers, who were standing side by side, all four of their hands clasped tightly between them, watching us expectantly. “I figure, if you have two-thirds of the Thicket Matchmaking Mafia on speed dial, you might as well use them.”
