He blinked at her with alarm. “Is something wrong? Is it George? Or Imogen?” He felt a cold shiver of worry. What if something had happened to Katie?
“George is fine,” Mabel said quickly. “This isn’t about anyone else. Well, not directly. Just… come with me. Please. And tell whoever’s working to hold down the fort for a while.”
Her evasiveness just made Lincoln more confused, but he could tell he wasn’t going to get any answers unless he did things her way. He waved to Jake, his part-time employee who was helping out that evening, and was currently organizing rental skates behind the counter.
“Can you handle things for a bit? I need to step out. Mabel needs my help with something.”
“Sure, Mr. Blackwell,” Jake said. “I’ve got it, no problem.”
Lincoln wasn’t entirely sure if that was the case, but Jake was old enough to handle everything, being that he was a college student home on break. He just had to hope for the best, clearly. “Thanks,” he said, then turned back to Mabel. “Okay, lead the way. But can you at least give me a hint about what’s going on?”
“You’ll see,” Mabel said mysteriously, already heading for the door. “But grab your jacket and gloves—you’re going to need them.”
Lincoln’s confusion deepened as he retrieved his winter gear from the office. If they were driving somewhere, his clothing couldn’t be that important. But what else would require warm outdoor clothing in December? And why the secrecy about their destination?
He followed Mabel through the front door of the rink, expecting to see her car parked in the usual visitor spots. Instead, he stopped dead in his tracks, his mouth actually falling open in surprise.
There, in the rink’s parking lot, stood the kind of horse-drawn sleigh he’d never seen outside of a Christmas movie. Two large Clydesdale horses were harnessed to it, their breath creating small clouds in the cold air, coats gleaming in the streetlamps and small bells dangling from their manes and the harnesses. The sleigh was painted a deep red with gold trim, and outfitted with plush cushions and warm-looking blankets, a garland draped over the back and lights twinkling along the edges. It looked like something straight out of a Victorian Christmas card.
“What…” Lincoln started, then stopped, unable to form a complete thought as he stared at the impossibly picturesque scene before him.
“Congratulations!” Mabel announced theatrically, spreading her arms wide like a game show host revealing a prize. “You’ve won the Fir Tree Grove sleigh ride surprise!”
Lincoln blinked several times, certain he must be hallucinating. “I’m sorry, what? When has Fir Tree Grove ever had a sleigh ride surprise? And when did I enter any kind of contest?”
Mabel looked at him as if he’d just asked why water was wet. “Lincoln, honestly. The Fir Tree Grove sleigh ride surprise has been a local tradition for years. I can’t believe you don’t know about it. And everyone is automatically entered. Otherwise it wouldn’t be a surprise.”
“Mabel,” Lincoln said slowly, his suspicion growing with every passing moment, “I’ve lived in this town for my entire time growing up, and I’ve been back for a while now. I think I wouldremember if there was a tradition involving horse-drawn sleighs appearing in parking lots.”
“Well, maybe you just didn’t remember,” Mabel replied with impressive conviction for someone who he thought was clearly making everything up on the spot. The thing was, he had no idea why. Why on earth would he get a sleigh ride? “The important thing is that you’ve won, and you need to hurry to pick up your companion for the evening.”
“My companion?” Lincoln felt like he was having a conversation in a foreign language. “What on earth are you talking about?”
“Imogen, of course,” Mabel said exasperatedly, as if this was all normal and he was being slow to pick up on what was happening. “You can pick her up at the chocolate shop.”
Lincoln narrowed his eyes, his suspicion growing. It seemed like too much of a coincidence that he’d drawn her name for Secret Santa and now… this? Once could be explained away, but this was a little too much. He was really starting to think that something was up, especially with Mabel at the center of it, who was known for her meddling and scheming. She was trying to pull something off with him and Imogen, and he wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about that.
“Mabel,” he said carefully, “this wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with the fact that Imogen and I drew each other’s names for Secret Santa, would it?”
Mabel’s expression remained perfectly innocent, although Lincoln could swear he saw a flicker of amusement in her eyes. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. This is just a lovely local tradition, and you’ve won! Now stop asking questions and go collect Imogen before the horses get restless.”
Lincoln looked from Mabel to the sleigh to the horses, who were beginning to look impatient. “Mabel, I don’t know how todrive a sleigh. I’ve never even been in a sleigh. I’ve never evenseenone close up before.”
“You drive a Zamboni,” Mabel pointed out pragmatically.
“My Zamboni has never whinnied or had opinions about which direction it wants to go,” Lincoln pointed out.
“You’ll be fine,” Mabel said. “It’s not that hard. You’ll pick it up in no time. And, speaking of picking things up, Imogen is waiting, and you’re wasting time.” She pushed him gently in the direction of the sleigh. “Hurry up and go get her.”
Lincoln looked around the parking lot, half-expecting to see cameras or some other evidence that he was being pranked. But there was only Mabel with her hands on her hips, the pair of horses stamping their hooves and breathing out cold puffs of air, and the growing realization that he was apparently about to participate in the most elaborate romantic setup he’d ever encountered.
“What if Imogen doesn’t want to go on a sleigh ride?” he asked, grasping for any reasonable objection that might get him out of the increasingly strange situation. “What if she’s busy with her chocolate sculpture or doesn’t feel like being dragged around town in a horse-drawn vehicle?”
“Then you’ll have to be very persuasive,” Mabel said firmly. “Now stop wasting time with questions and go pick her up.”
The situation was absurd, he thought. Here he was, standing in a parking lot next to a Christmas card-worthy sleigh, being ordered by a sixty-eight-year-old woman to collect his high school girlfriend for what was apparently going to be a romantic ride through town. If someone had told him that morning that this was how his Monday evening would go, he would have suggested they seek professional help.
But he didn’t think he was going to get very far arguing with Mabel. Hecouldjust turn around and go back inside, he thought, but what if Imogen had already been told about this.He wasn’t sure that was the case, but he didn’t want to stand her up if she actually was expecting him. And he felt kind of bad for letting Mabel down, considering how much work she’d obviously put into this.
