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She stares at me.
“What?” I ask.
She chuffs, and it comes out like a mix between a laugh and a revelation.
“Follow me,” she pulls her coat hood up and opens the passenger door. Before I can say a word, she’s tumbled out of the car and is running, a saunter with high knees, in the snow back to the mansion, her boots getting lodged in a drift every few steps.
I struggle to catch up, abandoning any hope I can open the umbrella while I’m running. I catch up to her once we’re inside and she’s winding her way through the rows of booths again, this time at a rapid pace. She pushes through the back door and goes out under the canopy walkway towards the darkened event tent.
She holds her flashlight high, her head whipping in every direction as she takes in the layout of the tent. Finally, she meets my gaze. “I think this might actually work.”
“If you can get two of them loaded up and over here, that would be even better,” I tell my friend over the phone. He agrees and I hang up, making my way around a generator to reach Aria, who’s plugging in a heat lamp the size of a freeway sign.
She stands and though she seems tired, an enormous grin lights up her face.
“Any luck?”
“That was Steve. He’s bringing over two forklifts, and another friend who is also certified is coming to drive the other one.”
She looks around at the empty back half of the event tent and rubs her gloved hands together. “Hallelujah. And I don’t even want to know what time it is. But can you believe this?” She gestures around the room as committee and community members walk in the tent carrying portable heaters, extension cords, and generators.
Merre appears, her knitted cap covered in snow. “I cleared out Walmart. Bought every can of propane they had.”
“Merre?” Aria hugs her. “Thank you. How did hear about this?”
“I’ve been obsessing over the town’s Instagram lately. People make the funniest comments. Anyway, someone posted about the tree crashing through the roof and how everyone should come to help.” She shrugs. “We can’t let the festival end so unceremoniously, right? Oh!” She reaches in her pocket. “I have a few portable cellphone chargers, too. Hopefully that helps.”
Someone claps me on the shoulder, and I turn to see Weatherby and his wife each holding a large box.
“Battery-powered candles. Do you think you can use them?” Weatherby asks.
“Man, this is a sight for sore eyes,” I say as I look over the box. “Thank you.”
“You can thank my wife. She hopped on Facebook right before bed and saw your post in the community group. We’re here to help, Theo.”
“How’s the storm? Seems better but it’s hard to tell inside the tent.”
“It’s letting up if you can believe it. And I heard some of the city workers are already up driving the snowplows to make sure people can still get here in the morning.”
I introduce them to Aria and then they leave to get to work, placing the candles all around the room on the booth’s counters. We’re going to need as much light as we can get for this harebrained scheme of ours.
Aria nestles herself into my arms. “As soon as those forklifts come, that’s when the real work will start.”
“But we’re doing it, Aria. We’re making this a reality. It’s going to be an amazing experience. I’m so glad you thought of it.”
“Thank you. For all of this. For everything.” She seals a kiss to my cheek. “You’ve fought like a dragon for this festival, just like you said you would.”
Camilla and Jesse arrive. They begin closing up the booths inside, readying them to be transported.
The plan is to move all the booths set up inside the mansion—over one hundred of them—to the event tent. And here’s a silver lining to having fewer booths participating this year: the tent ended up being only half-full, which means, hopefully, we can cram all of the ones from the mansion inside it.
And with any luck, the surprise I have planned for tomorrow will help Aria have the best Christmas she’s ever had.
Chapter 36
Aria
Four a.m.
