“I’m not sure if we can do that,” I said hesitantly.
“Nonsense,” she said firmly. “The elf costume will fit you just fine, Anne. And we’ll just have to stuff you to get the Santa one to fit you, Ernesto.”
I bit back my laughter at the idea of Neto in a Santa suit and let Mayor Pembroke hurry us out to her car. She handed each of us a garment bag and we went back into the bakery to change. I couldn’t tell if I felt silly or fabulous as I exited the ladies’ room in a green velvet dress with candy cane tights and gold slippers with toes that curled up. Probably a bit of both. I adjusted my long stocking cap with a bell at the tip. I could already tell that bell was going to make me crazy, ringing in my face every time I moved.
Neto stepped out a moment later wearing a red and white Santa suit, black belt and boots, and white wig under a red hat. His dark eyes gleamed when he saw me, and I swallowed hard. Apparently I was attracted to Santa Claus now.
“Will you help me with the beard?” he asked.
I barely breathed as I slipped the fake beard around his face and secured it with double-sided tape, my fingers brushing against the slight scruff on his cheeks. He leaned into my touch, and the beard couldn’t cover the way he swallowed when my knuckle brushed against his lower lip as I was adjusting the mustache.
Luckily, Mayor Pembroke came back to check on us before I could do something crazy like kiss Santa Claus. “The bus just pulled up,” she said.
Mrs. Bennet had packed our food into to-go boxes for us and handed me a bag. “Are you dating Ernesto Garcia?” Her words were quiet, but her eyes shone with excitement at a potential scandal. Anyone who knew anything about my mamá knew that she would never approve of me dating someone who wasn’t fae.
“No,” I said, hoping she wouldn’t hear in my voice how much I wished I were. “We’re just performing together in the pops concert. I hope to see your family there.”
She nodded, believing me a little too easily. The idea of Ernesto Garcia wanting to date me was ridiculous. I was under no illusion that his interest in me would last beyond the Christmas concert. I wasn’t naive, but just because this could never last didn’t mean I wasn’t going to enjoy every moment of this flirtation.
Mayor Pembroke led us to a curtained-off seating area in the town square, and we spent the next hour greeting children. My job was to bring a child to Neto, where he’d pose for a picture with them and listen to their Christmas wishes. Then I’d give thechild a candy cane and usher them away before retrieving the next kid in line.
There were a few tears from younger children who were scared of Neto, but he was able to settle them down enough with his soft, calm voice to get a photo for their parents.
“You did a great job,” I said when the last child left.
“Thanks,” he said. “It was much easier than a meet and greet with fans. Nobody even asked for my autograph.”
I laughed but blushed at the thought that I’d once dreamed of being a fan in a line who would ask him to sign my poster.
Playing Santa and his helper had taken up most of the morning, so we didn’t have very long to rehearse. We drove back to the concert hall, me in my car and him in his. It would have been great to drive together, but I hadn’t wanted him to pick me up from Rosings Park where Mamá would have questions for me. Questions like,what in the world are you thinking, getting attached to that young man?
I shoved my mamá’s voice aside as I let Neto in through the back door with my key. There wouldn’t be a performance if we didn’t solve the murder, but that was no reason not to be prepared. We were going to catch the killer, and the show would go on. So we needed to make sure our duet was perfect.
We went to the stage and I flipped on some lights. Not the spotlight that would blind me on the night of the performance, but a few lights around the auditorium and in the wings.
The police tape had been removed and the floor cleaned of all the blood, as if by magic. In fact, it was likely magichadremoved it.
I hadn’t gotten a recording of the orchestral accompaniment yet, so Neto and I would have to sing acapella. I swallowed down my nerves. Singing in front of the crowd was no problem for me, but the thought of singing in front of Ernesto made all the blood in my body rush to my head. Luckily, his part was first. We stoodside by side on stage in front of the empty seats, and I worked to calm my breathing while Neto went through a couple of vocal exercises.
“Do you do that before concerts?” I couldn’t help but ask.
“Yes. More if I’m performing a song that requires screaming.”
I smiled. Though I usually hated when artists screamed, the Grey Doors had a few songs that got a little…intense, and Ernesto had a talent for adding musicality to the screams that made them fierce and emotive without being harsh or severe.
Neto took a deep breath and began the first verse ofO Holy Night.
I’d listened to all three Grey Doors albums hundreds of times and watched too many concert clips to count but hearing Ernesto live—and this close—took my breath away. I gave myself a few bars to revel in the tone and quality of his voice, in the way he enunciated the words, and the low timbre that gave me chills before I shut down the part of me that listens and enjoys and honed in on my own performance. Only hundreds of hours of practice could enable me to tear myself away from his voice and come in on time when it was my turn to sing. I unstoppered my senses and poured every bit of myself into my voice, existing only in the song.
And then Neto’s part picked back up again. The way our voices blended was like they were meant to be together.
When the song ended, we stood side by side, not speaking, barely breathing, letting the echo of our last notes settle on the empty concert hall. Neto moved first, brushing his hand against mine like he didn’t want to break that connection, either. I moved my pinkie slightly against his, letting him know that his touch was welcome, and he took my hand in his.
“I didn’t know you could sing like that,” Neto breathed after we’d been through the song half a dozen times.
“I didn’t either,” I said. I’d known my voice was good but this… this was something else.
My phone beeped, breaking the spell, and I let go of Neto’s hand to silence it. I had a text from my mother.
