“Your father…has finally been bitten by the Christmas spirit.”
She ducked down, peeking in between a couple. Sure enough, David Wynn stood front and center wearing a costume only Aunt Birdie could have created.
Chapter 7
“Your dad.” Eryn’s eyes grew round as saucers.
“Is dressed as a reindeer.”
David Wynn waddled across the wagon bed, tossing candy into the crowd.
A rousing round of cheers ensued, and several people standing near Harlow began chanting his name. “David…David…David.”
Aunt Birdie, sporting an angel costume complete with feathery white wings and a golden halo above her head, twirled and swirled, tossing handfuls of candy and toy trinkets to the children.
Chance, dressed as a pup, proudly pranced down the street while Mort, looking sporty in his custom costume, stood next to Marty, his horse's tail wagging ninety miles an hour.
Festive music played from somewhere inside the wagon, a catchy little ditty about flying reindeer and angels.
“Over here!” Lottie bounced onto the tips of her toes, frantically trying to catch their attention.
Aunt Birdie spotted them first. She grabbed a handful of goodies from her bucket and tossed them in their direction.
David wobbled to the other side, giving them a half-hearted wave.
Harlow let loose a wolf whistle. “Lookin’ good, Pops!”
He rolled his eyes and jabbed his thumb toward his sister, who laughed and winked.
“Take a picture.”
Harlow grabbed her cell phone and snapped a photo right before someone’s head got in her way.
“Your dad looks happy,” Peyton joked.
“Right? I had no idea he and Aunt Birdie were dressing up too.”
“By design, I’m sure.” Lottie tapped the side of her forehead. “Your sister didn’t give him advance notice on purpose.”
Several more drays pulled by horses meandered down the main street. Santa looped back around for one last appearance before strolling off into the sunset.
The parade ended, and the festival got underway. Booths offering food, along with local arts and crafts, lined the sidewalks. All Harlow could think was that there were smiles for miles.
Marty, David and Aunt Birdie caught up with them, making their rounds to watch skits and shows, to sample the food and peruse the hand-crafted goods.
Harlow polished off a candy apple, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “You look very festive, Dad. I wonder who won the costume contest.”
“Santa,” Marty and Aunt Birdie echoed in unison.
“Chance and Mort came in a respectable third place,” David added. “The fireworks are starting.”
Harlow grew quiet while the national anthem started to play. As she gazed around, sudden tears welled up in her eyes. She couldn’t help but compare this Christmas to her last, spent at a private resort in the Caribbean. Robert’s choice, of course.
No tree. No decorations. No parades or parties…just the two of them on a warm-weather holiday. They hadn’t even exchanged gifts. It was like any other day, and right then Harlow realized how much she had missed out on. Friends, family, a close-knit community.
She had gained more friends in the last three months than she had in the last five years. It was the best Christmas gift Harlow could ever imagine, one without price tags or shopping trips. The true gifts were gifts she would never find in a store.
“Are you alright?” Eryn whispered in her ear.
