Kenzie was practically bouncing in her seat. “We always do this on Christmas Eve. Ruby says that popcorn and cranberries are just like twinkle lights to Santa and his elves. We hang them on the windows so Santa can find our house.”
Kip startled. With the wedding and everything else that had gone on, Kip hadn’t realized that Christmas Eve was already here. The last few years, Christmas hadn’t meant much. Just another day of running from Rios. This year it would be special.They circled the chairs around the table as Ruby poured cider into four thick mugs. Grabbing a handful of popcorn, Joy started eating it instead of stringing it. “Okay, what was your favorite Advent present this year?” Joy asked around a mouthful. “I’ll go first. Mine was the boxes.”
“They all came in boxes,” Kenzie said. “Which one are you talking about?”
“You know,” Joy explained. “On day seven, we all got those tiny keepsake boxes that said something about us? That was my favorite. I’ve never even seen a box shaped like a tiny camera lens. I screamed so loud the dogs started barking.”
“Oh yeah,” Tildi said. “I loved those, too. Mine had bluebells painted on top. And when you open it, it smells like bluebells, too.”
Kenzie clapped her hands. “Ooh, those were the best. Mine was shaped like a tiger’s head, and when you press the sides, the tiger opens its mouth to show what’s inside.” She threaded five cranberries in a row without looking. “I’m keeping mine on my nightstand forever.”
Kip drew her box out of her pocket and ran her thumb over the carved fox on the lid. Trace had handed it to her that evening, eyessoft in the firelight, and said, “Eighteen more sleeps, little fox.” She could still feel the weight of his hand on her neck when he kissed her afterward. “I keep mine with me all the time. Trace gave me a Promise Pebble to rub when I get anxious, and I keep it in the box in my pocket.”
They spent the next thirty minutes stringing popcorn and chatting. Joy retold the story of the miniature saddle ornament Chance had hung on night two. Tildi bragged about the hand-carved thimble Boone snuck into her box on night eleven. Kenzie admitted she hadn’t taken the tiny silver horseshoe necklaces they received on day fourteen off since that night.
Kip stayed quiet, threading popcorn-cranberry-popcorn, the rhythm soothing. Outside, the first flakes drifted down from the clouds and past the window. Then the wind caught them and turned them sideways. As the snow thickened, she rubbed her Promise Pebble and hoped Trace got back home soon.
As the popcorn strings grew longer, Ruby draped them over the curtain rods and along the window frames until the kitchen looked like a red-and-white garland explosion. When she finished, she refilled the cider mugs as Joy began to sing “Jingle Bells” off-key. Not caring in the slightest how off-key Ruby was, they all joined in. Their voices tangled together, warm and messy and perfect.
Snow hammered the windows now, wind howling. Out of nowhere, three sharp raps sounded from the front door.
“I’ll get it.” Tildi jumped up from her chair.
She made it halfway across the kitchen when Ruby called out, “Oh no, you will not. What would your Daddy say if you opened that door without knowing who was there in such a storm? He would skin you and me both!”
Wiping her hands on the dish towel, she went to answer. Kip heard low voices, then Ruby’s bright laugh. “Silas! Oh, for heaven’s sake! Come in out of that mess.”
Silas Clark stepped inside, snow melting off his shoulders, hat clutched in both hands. “Jack sent a wedding present for Trace and Kip. He said he didn’t want it sitting in the truck all week.” He held out a shoebox-sized box, wrapped simply in brown paper with a red ribbon on top.
When Kip didn’t move, Ruby took it from him. “Oh, Silas, you’re an angel coming out in all this. Have a seat and have a cup of hot coffee before you head back out.”
“That’s all right, Miss Ruby. I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”
Even Kip winced when Ruby shot Silas her do-it-and-I-mean-now-mister stare. Pointing to an empty chair at the table, she said, “Sit.”
With a nod, Silas walked to the table, his eyes flicking around the room. They seemed to land on everyone except Kip. Was he still upset about that coffee spill? That was almost two months ago.
He chatted with everyone—everyone except her—and his smile seemed plastered on. Watching his fingers twist the brim of his hat until the felt creased, something was clearly bothering him. But why, would it have anything to do with her?
But that was silly. This was Silas. The people of Wilder had known him for years. He’d never been exactly friendly with her, but he hadn’t been rude. Even when she’d interrupted his interview with Mr. Clark.
Still, something was bothering her. Maybe she was starting to get a headache. Or maybe she just needed some time alone. That was probably it.
She stood up too fast, and the chair scraped the wooden floor, making everyone stare at her. Great, just great. “I’ve got a headache starting. Going to lie down for a bit.” She tried to smile at Ruby. “Would you please wake me if I’m not up when the guys get back?”
Ruby nodded. “Of course, child. You go take a nap so you’ll beready to celebrate Christmas Eve tonight. You have to hang your stocking on the fireplace so Santa can find it.”
Silas stood as well. “I should head out anyway. Storm’s turning nasty. Thank you for the coffee.”
Ruby smiled. “Anytime. Kip, can you see our guest out? And, Silas, tell Jack we said merry Christmas.”
Backing toward the door, Silas nodded. Kip forgot about her concerns in her relief that Silas was leaving, so she walked him out before her brain caught up. The second she opened the door, wind tore in, flinging snow across the floorboards. And yet, he stood there, staring at her. Should she say something to send him on his way? “Well, um, thanks so much for bringing out the gift, Silas. Be careful going back.”
Silas didn’t move from the porch. He turned up his collar, but other than that, it was as if he hadn’t heard her. “Damn it! I forgot the card Jack wrote. He said there’s an extra gift in there. He told me to be sure not to forget it. It’s in the glove box. Would you be willing to come grab it real quick so these old bones don’t have to get back out in the wind? I’d be mighty obliged. Won’t take ten seconds.”
She should say no. Every instinct in her screamed to refuse. But the wind was howling. And Silas had always been polite. He was a simple, quiet guy who’d been one of Jack’s hands for years. The last thing she needed was for Silas to think she was rude on top of being clumsy.
“It’ll just take a second,” he repeated, already walking toward his idling Ford. His headlights cut pale tunnels through the blistering snow.
