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Hope’s stomach plummeted when she saw Melody and Todd reentering the café. Her daughter was gazing at her with such loathing. Hope wished the lyrics of “Angels We Have Heard on High” would lighten her daughter’s mood, but no such luck. “I saw your cookie, sweetheart,” she said. “It’s amazing. The colors and balance and—”
“Give it a rest, Mom. I don’t need compliments.” Melody’s chin trembled. She lowered her gaze. Her hair fell forward.
Hope caught sight of Steve and Lincoln strolling inside and wondered if Melody was troubled because she’d seen him. Had that made her realize the prize was truly gone? “Melody,” Hope said, “the tree-lighting ceremony is in a few hours. Once we’ve finished here, why don’t we get cleaned up and have a snack and then go to the Curious Reader and browse books before the ceremony. We can—”
“I don’t like books,” Melody snapped, and stomped into the café’s kitchen.
“Me, either.” Todd followed her, mirroring her attitude.
“Okay, no books,” Hope muttered. “Message received loud and clear.”
Putting on her best smile, she orbited the café, avoiding Steve and Lincoln. Zerena seemed to have them well in hand, although she did catch Steve glancing in her direction. Often. Did she look a mess? Or was he expecting her to explain why she’d said no to the prize a final time? Whatever the reason, she did her best to avoid his gaze, willing her cheeks not to turn crimson every time she noticed.
An hour later, Hope announced that Nathan Atkinson, Todd’s arch enemy, was the winner. Todd, peering from the kitchen, wasn’t happy.
––––––––
After the cookie contest ended and Gabe closed the café to give everyone the rest of Sunday off, Hope gathered the children and drove to the trailer park. She fed them take-home portions of stew from the café and then freshened up and changed into jeans, ankle boots, and her mother’s sparkly green sweater. While donning a dab of lipstick, she saw Melody and Todd hunched over her phone pressing buttons. She wasn’t sure what game they were playing, but neither seemed grouchy, so she let them have their moment.
“Find your hats and jackets and buckle up,” she said when she was ready. “The tree-lighting ceremony starts at dusk.”
On the way to the center of town, she rolled down the driver’s window and listened to the strains of “Holly Jolly Christmas” being piped through speakers along Main Street.
“Ho, ho, the mistletoe,” Todd crooned and sang la-la-la for the rest of the verse.
Hope glanced in the rearview mirror and studied her daughter, whose mouth was downturned, her gaze fixated on the street. How Hope wished she could devise something to perk her up, but knew it would be a losing battle. After parking behind the café, she walked with the children in hand toward the roundabout. Half of the street had been blocked off for the event. There was no traffic. A horde of people had turned out.
In a line down the middle of the street stood an array of food vendors’ tents. One was selling hot cider. Another was offering iced donuts and cocoa. The hot dog hawker appeared to be doing a bang-up business. Same for the pretzel guy.
When Hope and her kids neared the roundabout, Todd shook free of Hope’s hand and ran ahead to check out the nativity scene. Hope gazed at Melody. “Sweetheart—”
Melody wrenched away and chased after her brother.
Hope sighed. At least they were here. For now, that was enough. As her mother would say, Where there is merriment, joy will follow. She wrapped her arms around herself, drinking in the pretty strains of the next song in the queue, “O Christmas Tree,” and scanned the crowd.
Zerena, looking radiant in a red coat over leggings and boots, was clinging to Roman’s bent arm, the two of them talking nonstop. Their connection warmed Hope’s heart. Not far from them, she spied Gabe holding Brie’s hand. Like Zerena and Roman, the two looked utterly engaged. Brie pointed to the top of the tree. Gabe affectionately tapped her nose. Hope couldn’t remember seeing him this happy since she’d started working at the café, and another pang of worry shot through her. Was Brie truly ready to give up her career? Would she seriously consider a move to Hope Valley?
Not my worry, Hope thought. She had way too many other things that she had to handle.
“Hope!” a man squawked. It was Lincoln, waving like a little kid. “Hey, Hope.” He was dragging his mother toward her. “See, Mom, I told you it was her.”
The pompom on Ellery’s snow hat bounced as they drew near. “Frank!” She called over her shoulder. “Over here.”
Frank and Steve strolled toward them. Like Lincoln, both were wearing peacoats, turtleneck sweaters, and jeans. Their strides matched. So did their smiles.
Lincoln was grinning from ear to ear. “Hope, did you see the tree? Of course you saw the tree. How could you miss it? Isn’t it a beauty? I helped pick it out. The mayor let me go along. Isn’t it a beauty?” he repeated. “I love hunting for trees. The smell is so good.” He inhaled. “Right, Mom?”
Ellery patted his arm. “Yes, dear. Let’s simmer down.” She eyed Hope. “How are you?”
“Why do you ask?”
“I heard . . .” Ellery quickly peeked at Steve and back at Hope. “I heard my son showed up at your home. He . . .” She twirled a hand. “He shouldn’t have intruded, though I was glad to hear you’d changed your mind about accepting the prize, but now he tells me—”
“I had an unavoidable issue. With my van. I had to say no. Don’t worry about Steve.” She touched Ellery’s arm. “He’ll find another winner. All will be right with the world.”
“Not necessarily. When he couldn’t seal the deal, he was fired.”
“No.”
Ellery put a finger to her lips. “I overheard him on his phone with his boss. He was yelling at him for sending those reporters after you.”
Guilt gnawed at Hope. He’d lost his job because of her? That was wrong on so many levels. What kind of ogre did Steve—had Steve—worked for?
“Merry Christmas, Hope,” Frank warbled as he and Steve drew near. “You look pretty in green.”
“So much like her mother, don’t you think, Frank?” Ellery asked merrily, clearly ready to change the subject.
Hope blushed. “I can’t seem to get away from Christmas colors. Green was my mother’s favorite, so it dominates my wardrobe unless I’m at the café.”
“Uh-uh,” Lincoln said. “You wear a green apron.”
Steve stifled a chuckle.
“True.” Hope studied Steve. She didn’t think he looked worse for wear having lost his job. Maybe he didn’t mind. Perhaps new doors would open for him. “How much longer will you be staying in town, Steve?” she asked.
“Mom talked me into sticking around a few more days. I’ll be leaving right after Christmas.”
“No.” Lincoln pounded Steve on the arm. “No, no, no. You have to stay until New Year’s.”
“Not this year. I can’t. I have to leave.” Steve paused. “There are things I have to do.”
Like find a new job because of me, Hope thought glumly.
“Frank, Lincoln, let’s go check out the nativity scene.” Ellery wrapped a hand around Lincoln’s arm and gave a little tug.
Frank flanked him, and Lincoln went willingly, leaving Steve and Hope by themselves.
“My father was right,” Steve said. “You do look nice.”
“Thanks.” Hope fingered her hair. She’d run a brush through it, but the curls, thanks to it being in a snood all day, were inevitable. “Did you have fun at the cookie decorating contest?”
“Lincoln was sorry he didn’t win.”
“I think the kid who won was a ringer. He’d probably practiced for months on his design.”
“There’s always one in the crowd,” Steve joked.
“I guess he really wanted to win the prize. Free breakfast at the café for a month.”
Steve looked impressed. “Given the way my brother downs pancakes that could have saved my folks a lot of money!”
Hope laughed, the sound burbling out of her. “So, what’s next for you?”
“Back to work.” His eyes flickered. “My boss is a slave driver.”
Hope kept a straight face, loath to acknowledge that she knew what had happened. “Do you like being on the air?”
“I’ve done it ever since I graduated college.”
Hope tilted her head. “That wasn’t what I asked.”
“I—”
Todd ran up. “Steve, Steve, did you see the nativity scene?”
“Sorry, squirt, I haven’t had a chance to view it up close yet.”
Todd snorted. “Mom, did you hear him call me squirt?”
“I did.”
Melody skidded to a stop and gawked at Steve. “You.”
“Yep, me.” Steve grinned.
She looked nervously between him and her mother, and then waved awkwardly. “Hi.”
Steve wiggled his fingers.
“Hey, Mom,” Todd said, “I just heard a new joke. Want to hear?”
“You bet,” she said.
“Why don’t eggs tell jokes? Because they crack up.” He slapped his thigh and roared. “Isn’t that a good one?”
Hope giggled and rolled her eyes at Steve.
“I’ve got one,” Steve said. “Why couldn’t the bicycle stand up?’
“Why?” Todd asked.
“It was two-tired. Get it? Two tired.” Steve held up a pair of fingers, his eyes gleaming with good humor.
“Bikes have two tires. Yeah, we get it,” Melody said drolly.
“Two.” Todd guffawed.
Steve let loose with a yuk-yuk laugh, similar to Lincoln’s. The sound tickled Hope.
“I’ve got another.” Todd gave Steve a thumbs up.
“Go for it.” Steve spread his hands. “I’m all ears.”
“What’s green and red, and—”
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the mayor said through a microphone. “We’re just about ready to start the countdown. All the kids in the crowd, gather round. We need your voices.”
Holding hands, Todd and Melody dashed off. They knew the drill. They’d attended the ceremony last year.
Steve bumped his shoulder against Hope’s. “You’re a great mom.”
“Am I?”
A tender memory of her mother came to her. When Hope was lying in the hospital having just given birth to Melody, her mom kissed her cheek and whispered, You’ll be a terrific mother. And Zach will be a wonderful father. Just wait and see. Your hearts will be so filled with love, and that love will always carry you through. I promise.
Promises, Hope thought sadly, were meant to be broken. She hated to admit that at times she missed Zach. He’d been like that girl with the curl on her forehead. When he was good, he was very, very good, but when he was bad—
“Did I say something wrong?” Steve asked
She swiped a tear from her eye. “I miss my mom and dad. Especially at the holidays. They owned the Curious Reader and would dress it to the nines for Christmas.”
“It’s a terrific shop. I went there a lot growing up.” Steve cleared his throat. “How did the car accident happen, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“There was a book festival in Arizona.” Hope’s voice cracked. “When the festival was over, Dad was tired, but he insisted on making the drive home in one leg. He—”
“Fell asleep at the wheel?”
Hope nodded.
“Gosh, I’m sorry.” Steve clasped her elbow.
A frisson of desire ran through her. She gazed into his eyes, those incredibly warm eyes, and saw true concern and compassion. “Thank you.”
“Twenty,” the mayor yelled, and everyone echoed her. “Nineteen. Eighteen . . .”
Steve released Hope’s arm and turned toward the tree. So did she.
When the mayor and children reached number one, a little girl in a white dress, coat, and stockings pressed a big red button, and the tree’s lights illuminated. The crowd cheered.
Hope and Steve did, too. And then a star shot across the night sky.
