The market continued to buzz with activity around us as we settled into our booth, ready for an evening of festive cheer and community spirit.
I looked at Christian, who stood next to me, scanning the market with a hint of curiosity."You can go explore if you want," I offered.
He shrugged."I'm okay here."
His presence was unexpectedly comforting, and I found myself grateful for his company.As the morning progressed, customers began to trickle into our booth, their faces lighting up at the sight of our homemade goodies.
"How's your grandmother doing?"one woman asked as she picked up a jar of strawberry preserves.
"She's fine," I assured her with a smile."Just needed some rest."It was a phrase I'd be repeating today, I already knew.
"Give her my best," the woman replied, dropping some bills into the cash box before moving on.
The next customer, a man in his forties with graying hair and a kind smile, bought a basket of cookies."Your grandmother's cookies are the best in town," he said."Hope she's back on her feet soon."
"Thank you," I replied warmly."She'll be glad to hear that."
As we continued serving customers, I noticed how everyone seemed genuinely concerned about my grandmother.It warmed my heart to see how much she meant to the community.
An older woman approached our booth, her eyes soft with nostalgia.She selected a jar of preserves and handed me the money."I miss your mother," she said quietly."She would have been so proud of you."
I swallowed hard, fighting back the sudden lump in my throat."Thank you," I managed to say, my voice wavering slightly.
She patted my hand gently before walking away, leaving me with a rush of emotions that threatened to spill over.
Finally, there was a break in the stream of customers, giving me a moment to catch my breath.I glanced at Christian, who had been quietly observing everything.
"You doing okay?"he asked, his voice low and steady.
I nodded, forcing a smile."Yeah, just...memories."
He didn't press further but gave me a small nod of understanding that spoke volumes.
We stood together in companionable silence for a moment, taking in the festive atmosphere around us.The carolers' voices mingled with the laughter of children and the hum of conversation from the other booths.It was a beautiful reminder of what made Holly Ridge so special—a tight-knit community bound by shared history and love.
As we waited for the next wave of customers, I felt a renewed sense of gratitude for both this town and for Christian’s unexpected presence by my side.
“Hey Claire,” Emma called out, her voice cutting through the cheerful din of the market.“If you want to grab some hot chocolate, you can.I'll watch your booth.”
I looked over at her, momentarily taken aback.“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely,” she replied with a reassuring nod.“I know how much you love Lucy's hot chocolate.”
My gaze shifted to Christian, who was still standing by my side, a silent sentinel in the midst of the bustling market.“Want to try some?”
“Sure,” he replied dryly, his expression as unreadable as ever.
I smirked, a playful glint in my eye.“Come on then,” I said, motioning for him to follow.
We weaved through the crowd together, the festive sounds and scents enveloping us like a warm blanket.The market was alive with chatter and laughter, children darting between booths with candy canes clutched in their small hands.
Lucy's booth was easy to spot; a line of eager customers stretched out from it, drawn by the promise of her legendary hot chocolate.The aroma of rich cocoa and spices wafted toward us as we approached, making my mouth water in anticipation.
Lucy herself stood behind the counter, her rosy cheeks and bright smile a testament to her boundless energy.She spotted me and waved enthusiastically.
“Claire!It’s been too long!”she exclaimed as we reached the front of the line.
“I know,” I replied with a grin.“I’ve been busy with the inn.”
