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“Anything else you care to share with us, Nana Ruthie?” Gage Mosby asked from the front of the room. A retired Army Ranger, he wore jeans, black boots, and a short-sleeved black T-shirt despite the frost on his breath.
Nana Ruthie stood, smoothed down the hand-knitted red wool sweater over her black cargo pants, and said, “No.” She nodded at Gage, her silver hair glinting in the room’s dim light. “You may continue.” Then she sat again.
Ben winked at Sophie, adjusted his much larger body in the too-small chair, and turned his attention back to his uncle.
Sophie held in her laugh and focused on Gage, a six-four-foot man who looked huge behind his too-low podium. This was the kind of small town life she’d always wanted. It was also ironic since she’d come from Salem, Massachusetts which was a small village when millions of tourists weren’t visiting. But, as a foster kid, she’d never belonged there either.
“So,” Gage said. “Let’s discuss the Santa parade.” He cleared his throat and glanced at his wife, Lily, who sat in the front row. She was hard to miss since she wore her long black hair twisted into a French knot and wore a black leather coat straight from a Parisian runway.
Lily nodded in encouragement.
Gage continued. “As you know—”
“Why are we talking about this?” Mr. Elmer, an older man in overalls and wool cardigan, stood. “It’s been years since Santa drove his sleigh down Main Street.” Mr. Elmer’s gaze rested on a couple sitting in the row ahead of Sophie: Jacob Mosby and his wife, Clara, who held an infant in her arms. “I wanted to do this event last year, but we had a Christmas Eve wedding instead.”
Jacob, who was one of Ben’s five brothers, stood. “We also had a blizzard. So it would’ve been canceled anyway.”
Everyone in the room chuckled. While Sophie hadn’t been around last Christmas, she’d heard about Jacob and Clara’s Christmas Eve wedding during a snowstorm that shut down the state for weeks.
Mr. Elmer turned back to Gage. “We haven’t done this parade in a decade. Whoever is handling it now will do it wrong.”
Now Lily stood. “If no one remembers how to run the parade, no one will care.”
Mr. Elmer sat with a grunt.
“Didn’t we hire someone to run the parade?” Nana Ruthie, who was also Lily’s aunt, pointed at Clara who was patting her newborn son’s back. “Because our town’s event planner is on maternity leave?”
“I’m done planning Christmas events.” Clara spoke without a hint of apology in her voice. “I’m happy to run the haunted house tour—in my home—and the Valentine’s Day basket auction.”
“Bachelor Auction!” Mr. Elmer yelled out.
The room laughed, but Clara continued with a firm voice. “I’m not doing the Christmas events. Not the gingerbread house contest. Not the tree lighting ceremony. Not Santa’s parade on Christmas Eve. Although everyone is invited to the top of the ridge behind Mosby House to watch Caleb’s star turn on after Santa’s parade.”
Sophie doubted anyone in the room blamed Clara for her stance. The haunted house tour, which took place in the Mosby mansion where Clara and Jacob lived, was a huge event attracting thousands of visitors.
She touched Ben’s arm and whispered, “Those Christmas events sound like fun.” She didn’t have a lot of experience with Christmas since Salem was a Halloween town and she’d never had a real family, but it all sounded wonderful.
Gage cleared his throat. “Nana Ruthie, we didn’t hire someone to run the parade or play Santa—”
“I ain’t playing Santa.” Mr. Elmer crossed his arms over his chest.
She shared a smile with Ben. Mr. Elmer had neither the beard nor the girth to play Santa. And while a costume could fix those things, it couldn’t change the fact he was shorter than many of the town’s teenagers.
Nana Ruthie threw up her arms. “No one’s asking you. Elmer.”
Snickers echoed, and Gage banged his gavel to regain control.
“I’ll play Santa.” Harry Wakefield, who was also Clara’s uncle, stood. While he was tall and had white hair, he’d need extra padding beneath the coat. “Do we have a Santa costume?”
Lily shifted in her seat to look at Harry. “The high school drama club is making it.”
“Great.” Harry sat down and nodded at Mr. Elmer. “You can be one of my elves.”
Now the room erupted in laughter.
Mr. Elmer frowned. “Good luck finding that sleigh, Harry.”
Gage used his gavel, harder this time, to bring the room to order again, except no one was listening.
