Page 83 of Meet Me on Mistletoe Lane

“I’ve only got a few minutes before I need to go back down there to help Eve,” Jo said. “What’s going on?”

I quickly relayed everything that had happened this morning, and how Mr. Bailey’s guests meant bad news for our town.

“Crap.” Jo grabbed the tin of Mom’s chocolate and handed us each a piece of the good stuff before she sank down into the desk chair.

Mom always said there was nothing a little 75 percent cacao couldn’t fix, but I wasn’t too sure about it this time.

“I’m sure we can think of something,” Sam said from where he sat on the windowsill. He gently rotated one of Mom’s plants so another side would face the midday sunlight. “Won’t he be at the movie tonight? Maybe you guys could stage something then?”

James cleared his throat and rubbed a hand over his jaw. “I mean…he might go, but, um, Gianna and I were going to…go—”

“On our date,” I finished, my throat suddenly dry. “Alone.”

Which was fine, right?

Just because we were going alone didn’t mean we couldn’t strategize more for Operation Ho Ho Humbug.

“Right.” Something flickered over Sam’s face, but before I could ask myself what it was, it disappeared and a fake smile stood in its place. “Sorry, I forgot.”

Jo looked back and forth between the three of us before blurting, “What if I put something in Bret and Milton’s coffee, and they got sick—”

Sam and I shouted “No!” at the same time James excitedly shouted “Yes!”

There was a beat of silence, and then the four of us burst into laughter.

“Jo.” I wiped my eyes and took a breath. “Promise me you won’t do something stupid with their coffee…or food…or just in general…”

Jo shrugged and grabbed another piece of chocolate out of the tin. “I mean, if no one else comes up with a solid plan, I think a couple days of delay on the toilet is what we need to go with.” She stood and crossed the room, stopping at the door to go back downstairs. “Text me later about what you decide, G!”

“I’m with her, to be honest.” James said after she left.

Sam snorted.

From somewhere below in The Market, the sweet voice of Sam’s mother could be heard singing “Silver Bells.” The hum of the other conversations quieted, and even the sliding of chairs and tables against the floor stopped, not that I was surprised in the least.

When Sam’s mom sang, everyone stopped to listen.

“She sounds like an angel,” I said.

Sam smiled. “Yeah, she does.”

“Who is that?” James asked, opening the door.

“My mom,” Sam said. “She’s in charge of the church choir.” He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “I swear she sings more than she speaks, but I’ve always loved that about her.”

James leaned his head against the doorframe, keeping his back to us. “My dad used to sing with my mom when I was little.”

“Really?” I couldn’t imagine someone like Mr. Bailey singing, let alone with another person.

James closed the door and turned back around. “They used to fight over who got to sing harmony.” He laughed. “Dad always wanted it, but he was never good at staying in key.”

“That must’ve been fun to listen to,” Sam said with a smile.

“It was.” James looked at him, his eyes now a bit misty. “But then he got too busy to be home in time for dinner. And she got too busy on the weekends…” He sniffed and stared at his feet, and my heart squinched. “So, I started playing music. Learned guitar. Sang. But by then they didn’t want to listen, and Dad became convinced music was a lost cause.”

Sam cleared his throat. “I don’t agree with my parents on everything. And Lord knows I have some different opinions about how I think the tree farm should be run, but at the end of the day, we’re still family.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry your dad doesn’t get that.”

“I mean…I honestly don’t know what he wants from me half the time. I get good grades, play sports, am involved in clubs.” James ran a hand through his hair. “But because I don’t want a desk job when I’m older or to go to law school like he and my granddad did, I’m ‘wasting my talent.’ ”