It was Christmas Eve, and a steady stream of parents had tracked to Holly’s door to collect toys for their young.
Mrs. Whittaker was one of the last ones to show up. Holly handed her a porcelain doll, along with a little wooden crib. “I think little Susie will really like this,” she said.
Mrs. Whittaker gazed at Holly with tear-filled eyes. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate what you’ve done.”
“I was happy to do it,” Holly said. “I just want you and your family to have a merry Christmas.”
“Thanks to you, the whole town will have a merry Christmas.” After giving Holly a hug, Mrs. Whittaker drew a handkerchief from her sleeve. Dabbing at her eyes, she left.
Bobby Baker’s father arrived soon after. Upon seeing the toys for all four of his children, he was practically speechless. “Bobby doesn’t think Santa will come.”
“I would say he’s in for a big surprise,” Holly said.
“This…this is the nicest thing that happened since my wife—” Voice choking, he fell silent for a moment. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
“You can thank me by having a very merry Christmas.” Holly said.
After Mr. Baker left, she glanced around. Now that all the toys were gone, the room seemed empty, just like her heart.
“You done good, Holly,” her aunt said from her chair. “When you first told me what you planned, I thought you were crazy.”
“You weren’t alone,” Holly said. She reached for her cloak.
“How come I haven’t seen Nelson around?”
Holly bit her lower lip. She hated to disappoint her aunt, but it couldn’t be helped. “We’ve both been busy,” she said, not wanting to spoil her aunt’s Christmas. “Are you sure you don’t want to join us for caroling?”
Her aunt narrowed her eyes. “Is Harold gonna be there?”
Holly nodded. “Yes, Grandpapa will be there, along with the rest of the Random…eh…Ransom Notes.”
“Then I’ll pass. I heard enough screeching at the school pageant.”
Wrapping her cloak around her shoulders, Holly kissed her aunt on the forehead. “I won’t be late.”
“Are you sure you don’t want cotton for your ears?”
Holly laughed. “Don’t tempt me.”
Outside, the wind had stopped, and a full moon smiled down on her. It was a perfect night for Santa to make his rounds. Thinking about the squeals of happy children, she hurried toward Main Street.
The carolers had decided to meet in front of the Haywire Book and Sweet Shop, the most centrally located place in town.
Holly’s breath caught in her chest as she passed the blacksmith shop. She hadn’t seen Tom since the day they’d kissed. Had he purposely avoided her? She debated on whether to ask him to join in the singing, but no lights shone in the window. There was, however, a sign that read For Sale.
Holly froze. Tom was selling the business? A searing pain shot through her, and her knees threatened to buckle. That could mean only one thing: he was leaving town.
Shaken by the realization, Holly started down the wooden sidewalk toward the sweet shop. She understood her surprise, but not the depth of her sadness. She had known Tom for such a short while, but his kindness and gentleness of spirit had captured her heart.
She and Tom had shared a kiss only the one time, but the memory had left its mark and she’d hardly been able to think of anything else since.
She joined the little knot of people waiting for her in front of the sweet shop and tried to hide her pain and confusion beneath an overbright smile.
The owners of the candy shop, Kate and Brett Tucker, were there, along with the Ramsom Notes and some of Holly’s friends from church. Joe-Joe and his mother arrived just after Holly, with the boy’s dog in tow. The dog greeted her with wagging tail, and Holly bent to pet him.
“Hi, Winston,” she said, scratching him behind both ears. “How are you doing?”
Joe-Joe frowned. “His name is Cupid. Like Santa’s reindeer.”
Holly looked up. “Cupid? Did you name him that?”
“That was already his name. When the nice man let me have him.”
Her heart thudded. Why would Tom—
“I’m keeping him safe,” Joe-Joe said, his voice earnest. “And he’s keeping Ma and me safe, too.”
Holly straightened. “I’m glad you have such a loyal friend.”
“Come on, let’s go,” her grandfather called. He and the others started down the street, singing on the top of their lungs. “Deck the halls with boughs of holly…”
Holly fell in step behind them, and Joe-Joe walked by her side, holding Cupid’s leash.
Cupid barked and whined, and Joe-Joe was certain his dog was singing. Holly didn’t have the heart to tell him that Cupid was more likely barking in protest.
It did Holly’s heart good to hear Joe-Joe singing his little heart out. Even Grandpapa was impressed. “If you ever want to join the Ransom Notes, let me know,” he said.
They were just about ready to call it a night when Joe-Joe’s mother noticed something in Cupid’s mouth. “What’s that?” she asked.
“I don’t know.” Joe-Joe tried grabbing the thing away from the dog, with no luck. “He won’t let me have it.”
Holly patted her thigh. “Come here, boy.” Cupid trotted up to her. “What do you have there, eh?”
Much to her surprise, Cupid dropped the thing at her feet. It was a paper ball. “Good boy,” she said, shoving it in her pocket to be discarded later.
Cupid wagged his tail and barked.
“Maybe he wants you to throw the ball,” Joe-Joe said.
Holly smiled. “Maybe Santa will bring him a real ball to play with,” she said in a conspiratorial whisper. Fortunately, she had included a ball in the box his mother had picked up earlier.
Joe-Joe’s mother called. “Come along, Joe-Joe. It’s time to go home and get ready for Santa.”
Joe-Joe waved. “Good night, Miss Sanders.”
“Good night, Joe-Joe.”
The rest of the group scattered, and Holly walked home alone. She tried not to look at Tom’s shop, but the For Sale sign in the window was like a beacon. She reached home feeling more depressed than ever.
Her aunt had already gone to bed, and the fire was almost out. Since Holly wanted to read before turning in, she reached for the poker and stabbed at the dying flames.
Needing paper, she glanced around the room. What had Aunt Daisy done with the morning newspaper? Recalling the paper ball retrieved from Cupid’s mouth, Holly reached in her pocket. She was about to toss the wadded paper into the fire when the words Dear Santa caught her eye. Worried that a child’s letter had gone astray, she moved closer to the gas lamp and carefully unfolded the paper. Just as she’d expected, it was a letter to Santa. As she read the masculine scrawl, her mouth dropped.
All I want for Christmas is to love and be loved by someone. She must have eyes that look like emeralds, hair as red as a summer rose, and a smile that takes the breath away. If by chance her name is Holly, I’d be the happiest man in the world.
It was signed Tom. She ran her fingers over his name and clutched the letter to her chest. How in the world had Cupid known the letter was from Tom? Unless, of course, everything she’d ever heard about a dog’s sense of smell was true.
Rereading the letter again and again, she could no longer deny what was in her heart. She was definitely attracted to Tom Chandler and, crazy as it seemed, maybe even more than a little bit in love with him.