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“Good morning, Blaire,” Larry greeted me from his seat at the top of the short flight of stairs just inside city hall.
“Morning, Larry! Did everyone beat me here today? I’m running just a little bit behind.”
Larry’s eyes twinkled knowingly.
“You’ve got a rambunctious crowd in there today, Blaire. Mrs. Krazinsky and Bucky came in talking about how they didn’t understand why their idea of hosting a live Twelve Days of Christmas walk-through on the main street of Winterberry Glen got such poor reception last time and they were definitely going to bring it up again today.”
I laughed, thinking about the presentation they had given last week about permits for twenty-three birds, plus the cows, for a new Winterberry Glen hosted event for the Christmas festival, only to be met with a lack of enthusiasm, even from their fellow townspeople.
“Thanks for the heads-up, Larry. Sorry in advance if you’re now singing the song all day.”
I walked down the hall, continuing to laugh at Larry’s warbled, “Fiiiive gold-en riiiiings,” from behind me.
That’s right. I put my money where my mouth was and created a combined committee from both towns to help plan the Christmas festival this year and going forward. It meant more spaces to do activities, a larger volunteer base, and we’d be able to do a Polar Express for the first time this year, since there were train tracks that ran on the other side of Winterberry Glen. The feud wasn’t going to be forgotten overnight, but I think we took a giant step forward to bringing our two towns together, and I was proud of the work we were doing on the festival, even if it was a bit chaotic. We were calling it the Holly Ridge-Winterberry Glen Holiday Festival this year, because we just didn’t have the time to come up with a new name. But we’re holding a contest for suggestions, because I only wanted my mouth full of a few select things on a regular basis and that name was not one of them.
Right as I put my hand on the doorknob to open the door to the conference room where all this fun was waiting for me, I heard my name from behind me.
“Blaire! Hi! So glad I caught you!”
Gretchen approached from the other side of the hall. When my dad was asked to become Mayor pro tempore, he asked Gretchen to come on board as the town counsel and she agreed. Turns out our talk on Christmas Eve wasn’t just transformative for me, but Gretchen decided she wanted to be a lawyer for something she cared about, not for a private firm that was going to pay her the most money.
“Hi, Gretch, I’m running a little late. What’s up?”
“Just wanted to be sure we were still on for lunch today. You hung up on me sort of abruptly this morning before I could confirm and didn’t answer my texts.”
I mean, you’d hang up on your sister too if your hunky boyfriend came back into the room, stripped off all his clothes, started filling the tub wearing nothing but his glasses and gave you the look from the doorway.
“Oh yeah, sorry about that. Cole needed me for something. Yes, lunch today is perfect. See you at Joe’s at noon? I gotta get in there.”
Waving goodbye to Gretchen, I opened the door and was greeted by, “No, a group of swans on the ground is known as a bank, it’s in the air that you call them a wedge!”
I smiled as I stepped into the chaos, because while it was chaos, it was Christmas, and it was home.
Epilogue
Tree Lighting Ceremony, Two years later
Cole
It was the third Christmas tree lighting since Blaire had taken the helm as festival planner, and in what was a surprise to no one, it was the biggest one yet. After last year’s parking fiasco, the HRWG Holiday Festival—much to Blaire’s chagrin, the name of the festival remained, though the acronym made things slightly less painful—created satellite lots over in Winterberry Glen and ran shuttles between the two towns. Word was that those satellite lots were even 75 percent full tonight.
Blaire and I had grown as a couple over the past two years, both of us seeking out therapists to work through our individual issues, and occasionally seeing one of our therapists together to work on our communication and strengthen our bond. That often meant that it was hard to hide from the other what we were thinking, like right now.
“Are you sure you’re okay, Cole? You look a little grey. I’m the one about to go out there and kick off a Christmas festival, not you, you know.”
I laughed weakly at Blaire’s joke, mostly because keeping my plans for tonight a surprise over the past few weeks had been a serious challenge.
“I’m fine, Blaire. The cold must be getting to me tonight. I’ll grab an extra hand warmer from your stash, and I’ll be good to go.”
“Okay, if you’re sure.”
The girl did not make it easy to surprise her.
We had been at the Old Coach Inn—Louise always made sure to give us the same room she did that first night two years ago—sitting in front of those picture windows wrapped up in the comforter from the bed, drinking from a bottle of wine and snacking on a charcuterie board Louise had surprised us with when Blaire led me to believe she knew I was planning to propose this Christmas Eve. She was right, of course. I knew a Christmas time proposal would be the best kind of proposal for Blaire, so I had it all worked out to do at her family’s Christmas Eve dinner.
Even though after being in a relationship with Blaire Greene for almost two years, I was getting better at not being right all the time, this was one thing I wanted her to be wrong about. I didn’t want her to see the proposal coming. That meant bumping up my timeline a bit and declaring my emotions, publicly and loudly, at the Christmas Tree lighting ceremony was the next best idea I could come up with. So yeah, I was feeling a little queasy. So sue me.
“I better get to the stage and meet this year’s honorary tree lighter. I’ll see you after?”
