Page 129 of Meet Me on Mistletoe Lane

We lost Mr. Paxton.

The Baileys came to Mullings Creek.

The fake-dating plan with James that turned to real feelings.

Falling for my best friend.

I trailed my hands down the beaded lacy top of my gown for tomorrow’s Mistletoe Masquerade.

It really was the most beautiful dress I had ever seen.

Sam may not have given me an answer about whether or not he’d go.

Or what he’d decide about us.

But maybe the reason Christmas shone so brightly was because of the hope it carried with it.

And maybe, just maybe, Sam would find it in his heart to go.

To come to that dance.

For me.

After all, if Bob could surprise Betty at that dinner club while she wore that freaking incredible dress, maybe it could happen for me?

My entire family walked in silence toward Town Hall, where we’d pick up our candles before congregating with the rest of town at the big Christmas tree. The glow of the lit garland and wreaths now dusted with fresh snow around the light poles lining Mistletoe Lane came into view, and I smiled. I couldn’t remember the last time it snowed for the annual caroling, but it sure did make everything more magical.

We all took turns giving hugs and saying hello to neighbors and friends as we picked up our candles and programs.

Standing at the tree, minutes before we were about to begin, I caught Sam walking up with his dad and Gram. Gram’s arm was looped through Sam’s, and my heart squeezed as he helped her step over the curb to join the group. Like our family, his wore red. The entire town wore either red or green except for the local church choir, who wore white robes.

Our eyes caught across the crowd as Gram whispered something in his ear, and he gave me a small nod, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

I smiled back and lifted my candle in hello before he turned his attention back to Gram.

A moment later, the clock tower chimed, and the crowd parted for what I assumed was Mayor Moore to get things started. But it was the Baileys who came forward. Both of them wore dark green, and James’s signature smile slowly vanished as he caught on to the obvious tension and change of atmosphere at their arrival.

Someone suddenly shouted, “Why are they here?” and a few more voices rose up in agreement, making their frustrations known.

But Nona quickly stepped forward and put her arm through Mr. Bailey’s. The crowd immediately hushed at her serious stare.

“Anyone who is in Mullings Creek may go caroling,” she called out, her posture straightening. “Tradition is tradition, and these two are a part of ours now.”

Some grumbles could be heard throughout the group, but most everyone took her words to heart and stayed quiet.

Mayor Moore then appeared and carefully stepped onto the bench closest to the Christmas tree, clearing his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s hard to believe we’ve already arrived at our annual caroling on Christmas Eve, but here we are.” He paused and lifted his hands. “This has been one of our most eventful and beautiful Christmas seasons yet, and it’s because of all of you, of your heart and hard work, and I know I speak for everyone here when I say: Thank you.”

Several people clapped but most looked around wistfully, probably wondering the same thing I was.

How different will this be next year?

“So, let’s get the evening started, shall we?” Mayor Moore pointed toward Mistletoe Lane where Hal stood waiting. The town counted down from “five,” and when we reached “one,” all the lights decorating the town went out, plunging the street in darkness except for our candles and the tree.

As was tradition, everyone in Mullings Creek turned off lights in their homes and businesses. Some said it looked eerie, almost ghostly, but I always thought the moving candlelight looked beautiful, angelic, against the dark night.

A moment later, Mrs. Holt played a tuning pitch, signaling the choir to begin their set with the traditional “O Holy Night.” Once the choir took their first steps down Mistletoe Lane, the rest of us followed, singing softly and proudly along.

When we rounded Elm Street, passing the B&B, the song changed to “Silent Night” and I tucked my paper away, knowing full well I didn’t need the lyrics.