Page 79 of Meet Me on Mistletoe Lane

“You did that on purpose,” he said, his eyes narrowing at me.

“Did not.” I smacked him. “It’s not my fault I suck at this game.”

The whistle blew, and Leo hurried over, his face appearing above mine. “I won!” He held up a fake gold medal, but looked prouder than an Olympian. “Three years in a row!”

Sam and I both clapped from the cold ground.

“Are you guys going to stay there all day or what?” Leo asked before hurrying away.

Sam sat up and slid out of his bag before offering his hand for me to take.

I reached for it and then stopped. Every time I touched his hand, my brain turned to static and my insides turned gooier than Jo’s molten chocolate lava cake.

“I’ve got it,” I said, sliding out of my own bag on the ground and standing.

“Okay, then.” He tucked his hand into his jeans pocket and slung the Santa sack over his shoulder. “I guess I’ll catch you later.”

James hurried over with powdered sugar on his face just as Sam walked away. “You didn’t tell me they had funnel cakes here!” he said. “I haven’t had these in ages.”

Mr. Bailey followed, surprisingly with a headband on his head. “Did you win?”

I rubbed the back of my neck. “Yeah, no. I’m not really coordinated enough for this game.”

“Too bad,” he said, taking a sip of his steaming hot coffee.

“So where are Brett and Milton?” I looked around him.

James snorted.

The corner of Mr. Bailey’s mouth almost lifted into a small smile. “They had a couple of important calls to make, so they headed back to the B&B for a bit.”

Important calls?

Like the kinds that carelessly tore down people’s way of life?

“So, where’s this Snowman Bowling event?” James asked, clapping his hands. “Dad apparently used to bowl in a league back when he was still athletic.”

Mr. Bailey laughed, the kind of full-belly one that James had said he rarely heard anymore. James looked so elated that he was the one this time to bring it out of him that my heart pinched with sadness.

Was it—laughter—really such a rare thing in the Bailey house?

“All right, son,” Mr. Bailey said. “I’ll take that challenge. Gianna, show us the way, please.”

After pulling James away from Phineas’s funnel cakes, the three of us made it to the Snowman Bowling. White spray paint outlined the “lanes” in the grass, and the snowmen-painted bowling pins, complete with little blue hats and matching scarves, sat waiting at the far end of each lane. The balls used to knock down the pins were red kickballs with painted-on flames.

“Oh, I get it,” James said as he picked up one and rolled it in his hands. “They’re meant to be fire so they can melt the snowman.” He chuckled. “Clever.”

Mr. Bailey squinted down the lane. “Are those real pins?”

“Yep.” I picked up a ball and handed it to him. “The bowling alley just outside of town donated a few sets for this event.”

“Very generous of them,” Mr. Bailey said, lifting the ball up and down to inspect its weight.

I nodded. “Small towns take care of each other.”

“Gianna!” My mom’s voice rang out as she hurried over. She must’ve brought a change of clothes, because she wore a different outfit than her usual paint-splattered overalls. Her dark, wavy hair was pulled into a loose bun, and her cream-colored cable-knit sweater hung loosely over her skinny jeans.

“Alice.” Mr. Bailey’s gaze moved quickly over my mother before pulling back toward the lane.