Mayor Schroder was the first to push open his door. He and Brett slid out quickly, and I ducked under Archer’s arm and followed without looking back. The air outside compared to inside the truck was breath-stealing, and I tugged the fur lining the hood of my coat a little closer around my neck.
“Tobias Thomas,” Connie Hodge called, quickening her footsteps. “Just look at you!”
I smiled wide and turned to meet her halfway.
She opened her arms and flung them around me, hugging me the way she had when I was young. “It’s so good to have you home,” she whispered in my ear as we embraced.
Home. My stomach dipped a little, hearing her words, and I hugged her a little tighter.
“Just look at you,” Connie repeated, pulling back and cupping the side of my face with her hand. “The pictures your mom shows me just don’t do you justice. My goodness, are you handsome.”
I laughed, and she patted my cheek.
“Me?” I said, smiling down at her. “What about you? You haven’t aged a day.”
“Still a terrible liar,” she teased.
“The only liar around here is your birth certificate.”
She swatted at me. “You’re going to make me blush.”
“The farm sure has grown since I’ve been here,” I observed, looking toward Hodge Podge. “You have your own shop now.”
“Archer insisted we needed somewhere to sell my secret spice,” Connie mused. “And it just kind of grew from there. It keeps me busy.”
“I want a tour.”
“I’d love that.” She agreed. “But first…” She held up the basket clutched in her hand. It was filled with little bundles of what looked like cinnamon sticks.
“What are those?” I asked.
“Wishes!”
“Wishes?” I echoed.
“More like a marketing gimmick,” Archer said, joining in the conversation.
“Archer Hodge, there’s no room for cynicism at Christmas,” Connie admonished. “Don’t you be saying that nonsense too loud. Our guests will hear.”
“Yeah.” I backed her up. “Think of the guests.”
Archer rolled his eyes.
“Connie, I’m going to need one of those fancy bows you make for the mistletoe we just harvested,” Mayor Schroder said, holding up the mesh bag with the large bundle inside.
“Oh, look at the size of that,” Connie cooed. “I wonder if there’s extra magic in it this year.”
“I have work,” Archer said, sounding constipated. He turned to leave without another word, but his mother stopped him.
“Just a minute.”
He stopped with a hefty sigh but didn’t turn around.
“First, the wish.”
“Mom, you know I don’t?—”
“How would it look if the man who created this Yuletide bonfire and the fireside wish didn’t participate in his own tradition?”
