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"Ja," Tide seconded with a broad grin.
"Folks," Bellamy began, addressing the gathering, "I'm glad you came out to see who would be the winner of the contest."
Nods and glances to one another prevailed.
"I don't want to keep you in needless suspense, but Mother said it will take her just a minute more. I wanted to remind you about the spirit of the contest." He stepped through the crowd, and as it parted, Isabel noticed he'd changed out of house slippers and wore knee-high black boots polished to a brilliant gleam. He still wore knickers, though, and the funny hat with the pom-pom on the crown.
"The key to eternal happiness is clear to some of us. Not so clear to others," he said, walking with his hands clasped behind his back and looking into the faces around him. "How to find prosperity is a question that different people will give different answers for—when there is really only a single answer that will do."
Winding his way toward the mercantile owner, Bellamy stared directly into his eyes. "Reaping rewards doesn't mean cheating another. I saw the chaos that the contest created: berries being used as commodities; brother pitted against brother, friend opposing friend." He continued on, stopping at Saul, the bartender for the California Republic. "Drinkers going drinkless because berries couldn't buy liquor. Now that one I'm not so inclined to frown on."
He moved on, coming toward Isabel and John. She pulled in her breath and squeezed John's hand. With a pause, Bellamy lit up his face with a smile for them. Even in the dimness, his eyes twinkled and his cheeks looked rosy. "There are some who believe," he said, holding Isabel's gaze with his own. "And then there are some who don't believe," he continued, this time pointedly staring at John.
Isabel felt his fingers go tense in her grasp.
"Believing is a mysterious thing. We only believe in what we think is capable of happening. Not what we want to happen. Why is that?" He absently scratched his full white beard and strolled forward. "And believing in ourselves is the last thing we do when we don't have the spirit of the season."
Once b
ack on the steps, he turned around. The door behind him opened and Mrs. Nicklaus came outside, whispered in Bellamy's ear, then went back into the house.
"Well, folks," Bellamy announced with glee. "It's official."
A murmur rose in the crowd. Then came a shuffling of feet. Hatted heads fit close together. People leaned forward in anticipation.
Bellamy chuckled, that rolling laugh that made his tummy shake. "The prize goes to Isabel Burche and John Wolcott."
Isabel let out her breath and laughed—a short and choppy sound mixed with relief. She quickly turned to John, who looked down at her with an easy smile. "We did it," she whispered.
"Yeah, we did."
She desperately wanted to fling herself into his arms and kiss him soundly on the mouth. But she refrained. Later—when they lit the tree candles—she'd tell him she loved him, and everything was going to be wonderful!
Amid the groans of disappointment, Bellamy went on, "To the winners, as I promised in my flyer, the prize is unlike anything you've ever known."
Money! Lots of money! Isabel exclaimed inside her head.
Mrs. Nicklaus came outside once more. High in her arm, she carried a domed wire birdcage. Inside two birds anxiously flitted. Their coloring was creamy gray and green, and once they landed on their perch, their heads touched.
"Mother and I have had these birds since they left their broods. One's a male and the other's a female. They're lovebirds." He beamed at them, giving Isabel another wink.
This time Isabel's optimism took a plunge. Lovebirds? Where was the prize money?
"They can't be separated. Without the other, one will wither. But as a couple they're strong and healthy. Full of spirit."
Taking the cage from his wife, he came toward Isabel and John. "It's my pleasure to present you with the lovebirds as your prize for the contest."
A few snickers resounded, then some moans of aggravation. Several people began to walk away.
Isabel didn't want to take the cage, but since John wasn't holding out his hand, she was obligated. Lifting the cage high enough to peek inside, she gazed at their winnings. The tiny birds flapped their wings and circled one another, then went back to the perch to nuzzle beaks.
It was humiliating at best to win a pair of birds when she had her heart set on currency. No doubt John was thinking the same thing. He hadn't said a word.
Bellamy put a hand on each of their shoulders, bringing them closer together. "I entrust you with my little friends. Keep them happy and you'll be happy for all your days. Merry Christmas."
Then he threw his head back and laughed, "Ho, ho, ho!"
Isabel didn't know whether to cry or sock him in the jolly old stomach.
