I stared at him, certain the horror I felt was clearly visible on my face. “Ask him on a date? I thought I was asking him what his favorite food was. Or dinosaur.”
Mom gave me a patient smile. “It doesn’t need to be complicated, darling. Just ask him when you can see him again. He’ll be busy with the store, no doubt. So if he’s short on time, ask if you can bring him lunch one day. Or coffee. That’s all. It doesn’t need to be any grand gesture. Just so he knows you’re thinking of him and being considerate of his time.”
Dad nodded as if that was all good and well, but then he shrugged. “I’d just ask him about the dinosaur.”
I laughed. “I can’t believe I’m getting advice about this.”
Dad pointed to the clock. “Well, you’re about to see him, so we gotta be prepared, right?”
“See him?” I looked at the offending clock.
“The lighting of the Christmas tree.”
Oh. I’d already forgotten about that . . .
“We better get moving and grooving,” Dad said. “Don’t forget your beanie. It’s cold out there tonight. The weatherman said it’ll be snowing tonight.”
I did always enjoythe Christmas tree lighting night. As a kid, it signaled the beginning of Christmas. I didn’t even mind the crowd because it was dark and everyone stood facing the tree, and there was order and quiet until the mayor said his piece and flipped the switch. The tree would come to life, pretty Christmas lights in the biggest Christmas tree ever. Everyone said,ooooooh, then they clapped and everyone was happy, wishing Mom and Dad a merry Christmas and shaking hands while I stood back and nodded and smiled and returned the greeting with my hands firmly shoved in my jacket pockets or behind my back, lest someone try to shake my hand.
That was how it went every year.
Most people in town knew my dad, and my mom had always been involved in community things, volunteering whenever she could. But they knew me now, and they knew not to touch me. They respected my personal space.
Especially since that episode many years ago when one of Dad’s older clients thought giving a five-year-old a rough shoulder-shake was an appropriate thing to do, and I’d had a very public, very epic meltdown.
He’d said he didn’t know, wasn’t aware I waslike thatand was most apologetic, but anyway, most of the town learned about my no-touching rule that day.
Then I’d began school and the kids in my class knew, my teachers knew. It was just my thing. I was mostly normal—whatever that was supposed to mean. I just had a few quirks.
But it did make meeting new people uncharted territory, and I never really knew what to expect. Which, of course, was the hardest part for me. The not knowing how people will react and usually bracing myself for rejection or ridicule.
I was, unfortunately, very used to that.
Which was why it threw me out of sorts when we’d arrived at the tree lighting and Winter was standing with a group of men. I hadn’t expected him to be surrounded by guys. I knew most of them, by name, mostly. I knew Hamish and Ren because their dog Chutney was on my roster. I knew Jayden from the diner. I knew Clay Henderson from the sawmill. Plus, he’d grown up here. I knew Deputy Price, and Doctor Rob, of course, because he was my doctor, and I knew Gunter because he’d opened the youth center.
But I didn’tknowthem.
And there were a lot of them, all standing around. It was a large group, a circle of friends that I was not part of and therefore was an outsider to, and meeting that many people at once was not a good thing for me.
Winter was supposed to be meeting me, not them. Wasn’t that the assumed thing? Did I misread his intent? He was wearing the scarf I gave him, and he did smile at me when he spotted me, and Gunter gave Winter a nudge—I wasn’t sure what to make of that.Why would he nudge him like that? And why was Winter’s coat so puffy at the front? He looked pregnant and he kept rubbing his front, as I’d seen pregnant folk do.
What was that about?
Disappointed and sad that things weren’t going as I’d expected, I faced the tree, waiting for it to be all over, wishing I’d stayed at home.
“Did you want to go over and say hello?” Mom asked me.
I shook my head. “No.”
She gave me one of her sad smiles but then brightened when she looked over my shoulder. “No need. He’s coming over.”
I turned around to see Winter walking toward me, his orange beanie pulled low, his smile wide. “Hello again,” he said brightly.
“Hello,” Mom said. “Glad you could make it.”
“Hey, Winter,” Dad said. “How was your first day at the store?”
“Amazing,” he said, grinning now.
