Olivia started to interrupt him, but Hugo made a slicing motion across his neck. She shot her friend a confused look. What had he told Malik to get him to join their team?
The problem was she’d been dreaming about just being in Malik’s orbit since the beginning of the school year. Now he was here, but if he wasn’t into the competition, that was going to throw a huge wrench into her plans. Olivia was a planner, and winning the sled of cash was nonnegotiable, regardless of whether standing this close to Malik made her entire body quiver and apparently forget how to string more than two words together.
SIX
DARBY
Don’t make eye contact. Keep your head down.
In and out.
Quick and easy.
Say hello, happy holidays, and return to your cozy cave.
Darby lasered her gaze at the icy sidewalk. Thirty minutes. That’s what Hilary had promised her. She only needed to commit to thirty minutes. A quick greeting to the crowd, cut the ribbon with a pair of ginormous scissors, and send the scavenger hunt teams racing. After that, it was going to be straight to her couch with a cup of lemon ginger tea and a date withGrease. She doubted that John Travolta could pull her out of her funk, but she never got tired of the classic. It had come out on her sixteenth birthday, and Darby would never forget the rush of seeing the T-Birds dance on the big screen. She literally wore holes into the album that summer.
“Darby, over here.” A woman’s voice cut through the frenzy of activity in the park, which had been transformed into a winter wonderland.
Hilary waved from the amphitheater. She stood tall with an upright posture and a clipboard in one hand. She was attractive with two long auburn braids tucked beneath a stylish cashmerehat. She conveyed a sense of self-assurance and authority as she directed the parks and rec team members and checked off tasks on the clipboard.
For Jim. Darby inhaled the frigid pine-scented air as gentle flakes of snow fell gracefully from the sky.You can do this for Jim.
The amphitheater looked like a breathtaking scene from a fairy tale. It was impossible not to feel a touch of holiday merriment at the sight of the snowy park. The open-air design allowed for a seamless connection with nature. Tiered seating was blanketed in fresh, fluffy snow. Twinkle lights adorned every corner, casting a soft glow on the stage where Hilary scanned the grounds like a secret service agent sweeping the area for any impending threat.
Hilary was in her late forties with silky brown hair touched with natural highlights. As she approached the stage, Darby thought she seemed a bit thin, perhaps too thin and pale, despite the frigid temps. She saw lines of worry etched on Hilary’s forehead and dark circles beneath her eyes. Maybe Hilary wasn’t quite as in command as she first appeared.
“We are so thrilled you agreed to do this, Darby.” Hilary’s face relaxed as she greeted Darby with a half hug. “I found Jim’s original notes and plans and have had so much fun looking at how the event has evolved over the years. He really set us on a course for success, and we’re so honored that you’re joining us.”
The permanent lump in Darby’s throat swelled.
Hilary blew on her hands and then rubbed them together. “The mic is all set up. You’re welcome to say whatever you want. I slotted you for fifteen minutes, but feel free to take as much time as you need.”
Darby gulped. Panic bubbled up her airway. She tried to swallow but instead gasped for air.
Fifteen minutes?
That was more than she bargained for.
“Are you okay?” Hilary reached out to steady her.
“Fifteen minutes? You want me to speak for fifteen minutes? I thought you wanted me to say a few words.” Darby regained control by pressing her index and ring fingers onto her thumbs. It was a trick she used to help her students center themselves. Her classroom was always a safe space for deep and sometimes challenging conversations. That’s what good literature, great storytelling provided—a launching point for discussion and discourse, which sometimes, oftentimes led to tears or big body reactions, especially with all those raging hormones. Darby was one part teacher and one part therapist.
She concentrated on the rustic wooden stalls set up around the amphitheater. Vendor booths selling fragrant fresh gingerbread, hot apple cider, roasted chestnuts, holiday wreaths, and crafts lined the perimeter.
Name three things you see, Darby. Three things you can smell.
Another technique she taught to show her students how to ground themselves in their bodies. She had always believed it was her duty as a teacher to provide her students with as many tools as possible for whatever lay ahead for them, whether that was how to use an apostrophe or a life skill like deep breathing.
“I thought I was saying hello and welcoming everyone to the hunt,” she said to Hilary. “I—I didn’t think I was giving a speech. I’m not prepared for that.”
“Oh, no, no, no. It doesn’t have to be a speech.” Hilary sounded breezy. “More speak from the heart. Share your memories of Jim, the event, and anything else that feels right to you. This moment is about you and honoring Jim’s legacy.”
The tightening returned. Darby glanced around the park. The towering pine trees were wrapped with twinkling lights. Santa, Mrs. Claus, and a bevy of elves gathered near the gazeboresembling a snow-coated gingerbread house. Participants were already beginning to gather. Darby couldn’t believe some of the costumes—ugly light-up Christmas sweaters, a Grinch complete with his face painted green, and an entire team wearing matching pink bunny pajamas fromA Christmas Story.Most people were bundled up for inclement weather with Bend’s uniform—a puffy jacket, ski hat, and boots. The scene was so lovely and wonderfully festive that it hurt Darby’s heart.
“I’m sorry. I can’t,” Darby said, returning her attention to Hilary. “I’m not in a place to be able to talk about Jim like that. Not here. Not in front of all these people.” She glanced at the crackling fire pit nearby, where people gathered to keep warm, sipping on steamy drinks. Rosy-cheeked children giggled, running around the bandshell, tossing flimsy snowballs at each other. Lines grew at the vendor tents as participants poured into the venue.
A look of pity washed across Hilary’s face. Darby was familiar with the hint of judgment behind her eyes. In the early days after Jim’s death, she had been bombarded with casseroles, bouquets of flowers, thoughtful notes, and emails. But slowly, as time moved forward for everyone around her, Darby had become a burden, at least in her mind. Acute grief was acceptable. Her friends, neighbors, and colleagues shared her sorrow in the weeks surrounding the funeral by baking bread and delivering groceries to her front door. Long-term, lingering grief was another story.
