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Dressed in Atticus’s jacket, my gloves, and knit hat, we walked hand in hand from his truck to the festival. I’d braided my hair and tucked it under my hat and put on dark glasses. He’d donned a cap and glasses as well. We looked fairly anonymous. We hadn't seen anyone on the drive into town. Maybe they’d given up and gone home to the warm weather? Probably not. They’d most likely pop out from behind one of the tents at the festival and take a photo of us doing what normal people took for granted.
“Don’t worry,” Atticus said. “What’s the worst they could do to us? Take our photo? We’re not committing any crimes by going on a date.”
“How did you know that’s what I was thinking about?”
“When you worried about something when we were kids, you used to bite your bottom lip. You were doing that all the way into town.”
“I was?” I hadn’t realized.
“It’s adorable, by the way. Where to first? Want to go look at the crafts?”
I glanced around the park. A giant fir tree had been lit withwhite lights, as had a gazebo. “That’s new, right?” I asked, pointing. “Didn’t it used to be smaller?”
“That’s right. Mama said they raised funds for it a few years back when the old one’s roof collapsed after a big snowstorm.”
“Does that mean you paid for it?”
He laughed softly. “There were other donors as well.”
“Don’t tell me there’s a plaque with your name on it?”
“God no. I was anonymous, so keep that to yourself, young lady.”
Paths had been cleared of snow to the merchant booths. Several food trucks and a hot cocoa stand sent delicious smells into the air. Atticus guided us toward the shopping area.
I gasped with pleasure at the goods being sold. “This is just like when we were kids. Is it the same lady who makes the quilts?”
“Yeah, but her daughter makes them with her now,” Atticus said.
There was also a man blowing glass with dozens of pieces on display. In addition, there were several tables with jewelry, knit goods, jams and jellies, and at the very end of each row, competing ornament shops.
“Do you remember Renee Cox? The pie winner?”
“Vaguely,” I said.
“She ended up getting divorced after her husband cheated on her. After they broke up, she opened a shop in town that sells knickknacks and cooking supplies. At Christmas, she has a huge display of holiday stuff.”
“So why is she here? Wouldn’t it be easier to sell from her store?”
“She can’t stand the thought of her nemesis selling here at the festival and not her.”
I glanced up at him, and my stomach fluttered with desire. His blue eyes were even more vivid in the sunlight.
“Who's her nemesis?” I asked, to distract myself.
“They own a shop in Bozeman but come here for the festival. Renee has labeled them outsiders, but that doesn’t deter locals from buying their decorations.”
“Wow. Cutthroat right here in Bluefern.”
“Renee’s not a big fan of our family ever since Pop beat her in the pie contest. Never forgave him. But her store’s fantastic. Let’s see what she has first,” Atticus whispered in my ear. “Shop local.”
“Totally.”
We strolled hand in hand until we were in front of a booth filled with ornaments and home goods. A blonde woman about Stella’s age sat behind her table knitting what appeared to be baby booties. Renee Fox.
She stood to greet us, squinting behind black-framed glasses. A memory slid into place of her holding a half-eaten pie in front of her, beaming as someone took her photo. I’d completely forgotten about what a big deal the pie contest had been here. Did they still do it?
“Atticus, good to see you.” Renee smiled, revealing a row of white teeth. For some reason, I imagined them ripping apart a piece of meat. She’d aged well, keeping her slim figure. Mid-length blond hair appeared expertly highlighted.
