She shrugged one shoulder.
Normally, that would show uncertainty, but the hard chips of ice in her eyes said she knew exactly what was going on.
“They’ve never given me any trouble.” She grinned easily. “And trust me, as mayor, I keep close tabs on my residents.”
“Mayor?”
I should have known that.
I’d researched the locals but kept it mostly to the cops and other people I might need to avoid.
Her laugh mingled with that of the kids running past us. “Don’t worry, it surprises most people when they see me here. But it’s important that I show my support.”
A man walked up behind her and kissed her cheek.
“You’ll never guess the latest rumor.”
He hugged her to his side with one arm around her waist. “Doug over at the post office just told me that someone came in yesterday and told him that his neighbor spotted one of the Vipers stealing that inflatable snowman from someone’s yard.”
The mayor rolled her eyes. “Good grief. If these people would put half as much effort into telling the truth as they do making up lies, I wouldn’t need to spend sixty hours a week in my office sorting out the nonsense.”
“Is it that bad?” I held my breath as I waited for her reply.
“I’m telling you, rumors about the Vipers are abundant, and most are as fantastical as they come. You’d think they murdered unicorns as a hobby from the way people make up stories.”
She tucked her hands into her pockets. “I’d better get back to making my rounds.”
A screaming laugh tore through the air, and I turned toward the sound.
No matter who I tried to talk to, I either got shut down or was told that no one had a first-hand account of any wrongdoing on the Vipers’ part.
I followed the laughter to the other side of the yard.
Children surrounded Colt, who looked past them with his mouth hung open.
“Are you going to put up more decorations next year?” A young girl tossed her pigtails over her shoulders, then rubbed her red nose. “It’s so pretty.”
Several others chimed in with their delight, wanting to know why they hadn’t ever decorated before.
Colt fielded the questions with non-answers and tried to redirect the kids’ attention. “Look who’s here.” He pointed, and his entire face shifted from surprise to shock.
“Santa.” The kids chorused together and bolted toward the front porch.
“Ho-ho-ho, Merry Christmas.” Rafe’s rough and tumble tone might as well have struck me with lightning.
I turned slowly, totally unprepared for the sight of Rafe in an honest-to-goodness authentic Santa replica costume.
Everything about it, from the black boots to the beard, made him look like he’d walked off a Santa Claus movie set.
No cheap imitations dared infringe on his authenticity.
He gave a deep belly laugh and stomped down the steps. “Are you having a good time?”
The kids bellowed a cacophony of yeses and leaped up and down in the snow.
“Good.” Rafe held out his hands. “If everyone would be so kind and create a line, Santa’s going to sit right over there and you can all come up one at a time and tell me what you want for Christmas. Does that sound okay?”
Again, the screaming agreement echoed so loudly, my ears rang.
