‘You loveeverything,’ Ivy told him, but she couldn’t help smiling back.
‘Hey, guys,’ came a familiar voice and they turned to see Brooke, wearing a jumper with the words ‘Yule Be Back’ shakily embroidered on it. ‘I just got this. What do you think?’ She twirled. ‘Shall I wear it to work?’
‘Absolutely,’ Trip said, slinging an arm round his sister’s shoulders. ‘Isn’t this amazing? It’s just like a Winter Wonderland should be.’
‘I knew you’d love it,’ she told him. She looked cheerful and relaxed, and Ivy remembered that Brooke loved Hallmark movies. ‘Glad you made it after all, Ivy,’ she added. ‘Embracing tradition. I had you down as a Scrooge.’
‘Actually, I used to love Fox Bay’s weird events,’ Ivy retorted. It was true. The thrill of marching in the Easter Bonnet Parade with her handmade creation on her head, the excitement of the summer pie-eating competition, the Valentine’s postbox in Wildest Dreams. ‘It just seems a bit silly now.’
Both siblings gave a gasp and turned to her, eyes wide.
‘Traditionseems silly?’ said Trip, staring at her.
‘Well, yeah … It’s all just a bit … over-the-top and – and unnecessary,’ Ivy finished lamely. That line sounded good in her head but faced with Trip and Brooke’s astonished expressions she began to wonder if shewasScrooge.
‘I love holidays,’ declared Brooke. ‘Always have.’
‘Our gran always made a big thing of them,’ Trip said wistfully. ‘Our parents would be busy working, so we’d go to hers. For Christmas dinner, we didn’t have anything boring like turkey. She’d invite all her friends and they’d all bring a dish. Thai, Persian, Mexican … we had all the cuisines. And at Easter, she’d leave a trail of chocolate eggs from our door all the way through to the backyard where she’d hidden our treats. We had to work for them, she said.’ He sighed. ‘It was great.’
‘That sounds nice,’ admitted Ivy. ‘But you know, you were kids. We’re older now.’
‘So?’ said Trip, looking bewildered.
‘So …’ Ivy trailed off. Suddenly she wasn’t sure exactly what her point was.
Brooke shook her head at her sadly. ‘Ivy, as you may have guessed, I’m a realist,’ she said. ‘I don’t like kittens or babies or bubble bath or anything remotely whimsical—’
‘Unless it’s within the pages of a Kathleen Lee novel,’ teased Trip, and Brooke glared at him.
‘But come on, Ivy,’ Brooke went on, ‘this time of year is great. This …’ she extended her arms to take in the fair, ‘thisis great.’
Ivy looked around the fair, the chattering, bustling crowd of people she had known her whole life, all wearing bobble hats and eating mince pies. Itwaskind of great, she thought. Maybe she had been too close to it to see it properly. And now, through the excited gaze of these newcomers, she was seeing it for what it was: one of Fox Bay’s entirely unnecessary and yet brilliant traditions.
A microphone squawked and the crowd began to gather round the darkened tree. Ivy could just make out the usual lopsided tinsel star on the top, now almost bald.
‘Time for the countdown, everyone!’ Simi called into the mic. ‘Everyone, please welcome Serena Woods!’ There was a smattering of applause as people assembled. ‘Serena, can I ask you to do the honours?’
Preening, amber beads jangling, Serena Woods took to the little stage and made one of her speeches about how much she loved this sweet town and how delightful it was to be back and that she had copies of her latest book,Desert Heat, for sale at her stall. Then she called, ‘Fox Bay, are you ready to welcome the holiday season? Then let’s get this tree lit!’
There was a cheer and Selena cleared her throat dramatically. ‘Ten …’
Like everyone else, Trip and Ivy turned towards the wonky tree, shoulder to shoulder in the crowd. Around them, people cheered and raised their phones to capture the moment, cups of hot spiced cider sloshing alarmingly. Ivy and Trip were close, enough that Ivy caught the warmth of him, along with the faint clean scent of his shampoo.
‘Eight!’
Ivy watched Trip, watching the tree. His grin was wide, and his face had that same awed expression she had seen a thousand times since he had arrived in Fox Bay, as though each of these mundane moments was something incredibly special. The light caught his cheekbones and his eyes were warm. He reallywashandsome, Ivy thought, startled by the revelation. It had crept up on her. He was so doggedly cheerful, so entirely un-brooding and unlike a tragic artist in every way, that she had somehow missed the full force of it. But now, she understood what everyone had been making such a fuss about.
‘Seven!’
She tore her gaze away from Trip’s cheekbones and tried to focus on the lights.
‘Six!’
Tried not to notice how the crisp night air had flushed his cheeks, or how his chestnut hair was curling slightly beneath his beanie.
‘Five!’
Or how his eyes were especially caramel-brown in the light.
