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“I like our way of celebrating,” she mutters.
Me too. I’ll take turkey and stuffing over oysters and goose liver any day.
The four of us meet the rest of the revelers at the park that leads to the south side of the lake.
The townspeople, bundled in scarves and warm outerwear, cheerfully greet us as we join the gathered crowd.
Their laughter mingles with the gentle lapping of the lake against the shore.
“Sela,” my mother calls, “we’ve been waiting for you!”
I lead Isaac, Cobie, and Dawn to the table at our right, where my mother and Trixie are handing out candles.
“Hi, Mom,” I say as we approach.
“Hi, kiddo. Who do you have here?” Mom asks.
“This is Isaac Ralston and his daughter, Cobie, and this is Dawn Taylor. Isaac and Dawn work for a travel magazine, and I brought them here to experience the hunt. Guys, this is my mother, Linden Prince,” I introduce.
Mom gives them a brilliant smile. “Welcome to Lake Mistletoe. It’s lovely to meet you all.”
“Likewise,” Isaac returns.
Mom’s eyes dart down to Cobie. “Are you ready to find the elves and their gifts?”
Cobie nods enthusiastically.
Mom reaches behind her to pluck candles from a basket.
“I have my own,” Cobie informs her as she passes the others to us.
“Perfect. Now, remember to walk lightly and to talk softly. The elves are fast and nimble. If you see a green bag or box with a red bow, it will contain a surprise. And there will be mistletoe hanging somewhere close,” Mom explains. Then, she leans down to Cobie and whispers, “Let the magic guide you.”
With a sense of wonder, we join the procession as Mayor Miller guides us onto the path that encompasses the lake, our candles casting dancing shadows on the snow-covered ground.
The night is alive with the soft whispers of the frosty wind and the occasional hoot of a snowy owl hiding in the nearby trees.
As we walk, everyone begins to break off and dart in different directions as they catch sight of bags hanging from branches and boxes tucked behind rocks.
Isaac, with his trusty camera strapped at his side, pulls it from the bag and begins to capture images of children running ahead of their parents and searching behind trees for Santa’s little helpers, fathers with their hands full of found treasures, and delighted mothers whose faces are aglow with candlelight.
“This is something else,” Dawn murmurs beside me. “I wish Daniel were here to see this.”
“Daniel?” I question.
“My husband. His band is playing at the ski resort tonight. Isaac and I are going over to watch them later tonight. You should join us,” she invites.
Her husband.
An inexplicable relief washes over me.
“I might do that,” I agree.
Cobie spots a box standing on top of one of the pedestrian bridge railings and beckons Isaac.
He passes his camera off to Dawn, and she aims it in their direction as he lifts Cobie off her feet and holds her steady as she reaches out to clasp the prize.
“Sela, come look,” Cobie cries, and I hurry to their side.
