“Community service is my thing,” I say. It’s easier than admitting that making her smile might be becoming my thing too.
“Is it?” Mads asks. “Or do you just like helping people?”
“It’s the same thing.”
“I disagree. Community service is when you have to do something. Helping people is when you want to.”
The girl’s got a point. Annoying, but accurate.
“Fine,” I say. “I want to help.”
“Why?” Mads asks quietly.
The room’s gone silent except for the soft scratch of Ellen’s crayons. Everyone’s pretending not to listen while obviously hanging on every word.
I look at Mads—really look at her. The way she’s sitting forward slightly, like my answer matters. The hope in her eyes that she’s trying to hide. The way she’s invested in this island and these people and this ridiculous Christmas plan.
“Because you believe in it,” I hear myself saying. “And maybe... maybe that’s enough.”
She smiles. It’s like watching the sun come up.
“I should go,” I say, standing up before I can say anything else stupid. “Early day tomorrow.”
I make it to the door before Ellen’s voice stops me.
“Asher?”
“Yeah, kid?”
“You’re going to be the best Santa ever. Because you care about people even when you pretend you don’t.”
“Thanks, Ellen,” I say. “I’ll do my best.”
“I know you will,” she says confidently. “Grandma Hensley says you’re exactly what Aunt Mads needs.”
I catch Mads’ eye one more time before I leave. She’s blushing again, but she’s also smiling. There’s something in her expression that makes me think maybe—just maybe—Grandma Hensley might be onto something.
Don’t tell Mom I said that either.
Twin Waves Island at night is different from the daytime chaos—quieter, more peaceful. The kind of place where you can hear the ocean and your own thoughts.
I think about Mads’ confidence when she was sketching out vendor layouts. The way she knew exactly which families would need extra attention this Christmas. Which volunteers could handle responsibility and which ones needed guidance. The way she lit up when she talked about making Christmas magical for Ellen and the other kids.
She’s not some project that needs fixing. She’s a woman who’s built a life here. Who’s respected and needed and thoroughly integrated into this community. She’s got her own business. Her own friends. Her own family who adores her.
So why did that letter make her sound like she was waiting for something? Someone?
I shake my head. Not my business. I’m here to help with Christmas logistics and keep everyone safe. That’sit. Professional distance. Community service. Nothing more complicated than that.
Except...
Except she does sparkle. When Mads gets excited about something—when she’s planning or creating or just talking about the island she loves—there’s this energy about her that’s hard to ignore.
I’m almost to my truck when my phone buzzes.
Mads: Thanks for tonight. And for offering to play Santa. The kids are going to love you.
I stare at the message longer than is probably normal. Then I reply before I can second-guess myself.
