I roll my eyes even though she can’t see me. “Mayor Janice Davidson needs a hobby.”
“She has one,” Ruby says. “It’s meddling. And tonight, I am her loyal minion.” There’s a rustle, like she’s adjusting a rack of bras. “Seriously, though. It’s for the food bank. And it’s going to be fun. They’re auctioning off all sorts of goodies. Gift baskets. Spa days. A guided snowmobile tour. A custom tattoo from that new guy in town.”
“Someone is auctioning off a tattoo? On their body?” I ask.
“No, you weirdo. A gift certificate.” She pauses. “Although now I kind of want to add ‘one free tasteful tramp stamp’ to next year’s list.”
I laugh, the sound easing some of the tightness in my chest. “And there are … dates too, right? With some of the local guys?”
“Mm-hmm,” she hums. “We’ve got a solid male lineup. Beckett’s already taken, obviously, but Janice wrangled some others. There are a couple of ski instructors, a firefighter, one of the brewery owners, that hot farrier from down in the valley …”
“Ruby,” I interrupt, heat prickling my cheeks as I imagine people bidding actual money on a date with a guy they don’t know. “I don’t know if that’s really my scene.”
“It’s not about finding you a husband in front of the gazebo,” she says. “Although if that happens, I expect to be your Maid of Honor. It’s about raising money for people who need to eat. And also,” she adds, “you work too much and haven’t had a fun evening out in … how long has it been? Don’t say a year, or I will drive over there and stage an intervention with a candy cane flogger.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, smiling despite myself. “I had fun at the Harvest Festival.”
“You worked at the wreath booth at the Harvest Festival. And then went home to glue tiny trees into globes.”
“That was fun,” I protest weakly.
“Harper.” There’s a low warning in her voice now, equal parts older sister and best friend. “You moved back here to have a life. Not just a business. You can’t hide forever and your mom wouldn’t want you to.”
That lands exactly where she knew it would. I swallow past the lump in my throat. “You fight dirty.”
“I fight effectively.” She softens. “Come on. You can sit with me and some of the other ladies. And if you really hate it, we’ll sneak out early and I’ll buy you cocoa with extra whipped cream.”
I stare at the twinkle of fairy lights reflecting off the glass domes in front of me. Little worlds caught mid-snowfall. Perfect and still. I’ve spent a lot of my life watching other people’s moments from the outside. Capturing them in glass, preserving them for strangers.
Maybe Ruby has a point. Maybe it’s time I let myself be … part of something. Even if it’s just a ridiculous small-town auction with too much mistletoe.
“And,” Ruby adds, sensing the waver in my resolve, “do you have any items you could donate? Janice is begging for more variety. She’s trying not to auction off ‘dinner with the mayor’ again because last year someone paid fifty bucks just to ask her about the potholes on Spruce Lane.”
I laugh. “That must have put her on the spot.”
“You could do a custom globe,” Ruby says. “‘Capture your favorite holiday memory with Fox & Frost’ or something. People would eat that up.”
An idea comes to life. A certificate for a custom piece. Or maybe a limited edition globe with the Cady Springs town square under glass. The gazebo. The big spruce tree they decorate every year. Tiny people milling around.
“You think anyone would bid on that?” I ask quietly.
“I know they would,” Ruby says firmly. “Your work is magic, Harp. People love that they can hold their memories. Touch them. Shake them up and watch them sparkle.”
My chest warms. “Okay. I’ll … I’ll do a donation. Maybe two. I’ll work on something this weekend.”
“And you’ll come,” she presses. I hesitate, thinking.
I’ll clap politely, I’ll donate, I’ll sip cocoa … but I am not lifting a paddle. Not even to scratch my nose.
I take a breath and think of the way my mom’s eyes used to shine when she dragged me down to the square for events like this. How she’d say, “Community is the closest thing to magic we have in real life.”
“Yeah,” I say, exhaling. “I’ll come.”
Ruby squeals so loudly I have to pull the phone away from my ear. “Yes! Victory! I knew I could wear you down.”
“You’re very pushy for someone who sells silk teddies and edible undies,” I tease.
“First of all, my pushiness is a public service. Second of all, you should be thanking me when you suddenly find yourself bidding on some hot guy in flannel.”
