“Christmas here is magic,” I said softly. “Always has been, always will be. It’s about connection, about being part of something bigger than yourself. It’s about creating moments that matter.”
Kent’s expression grew suddenly crestfallen. He looked away from the festive scene around us. “Nothing lasts forever, Sylvie.”
The words were completely at odds with the warm, joyful atmosphere of the market. I didn’t know what had prompted such a melancholy observation, but I knew I couldn’t let it stand.
I reached for his hand without thinking, intertwining our fingers in a gesture that felt very natural. “Maybe not,” I said, “but that doesn’t mean we can’t fight for the things that matter. That doesn’t mean we can’t create something beautiful while we have the chance.”
He looked down at our joined hands. I saw something shift in his expression.
“Come on,” I said, tugging him gently toward the center of town. “The best part of the night is yet to come.”
“I’m not singing,” he said.
I laughed. “Relax. This will all be painless.”
I allowed myself to believe that maybe I could show Kent he was the Christmas miracle that Northwood needed. Maybe showing him the magic of our community would convince him that our area was worth fighting for, too.
CHAPTER 16
KENT
“What is this?” I asked.
“It’s the grand lighting ceremony,” she replied.
She led me to a massive Christmas tree in the town square. It was apparently the main event of the evening.
“That’s my mom.” Sylvie pointed to the stage. “Gigi. Gigi Northwood.”
Gigi Northwood commanded the small stage like she’d been born to it, her voice carrying clearly across the packed square as she welcomed everyone to what she called, “Northwood’s most magical night of the year.”
The place was absolutely packed with locals and what appeared to be the few tourists staying at the lodge. There was a genuine buzz in the air. It was the kind of electric anticipation I associated with major events in New York. Like the events at Times Square. But there weren’t millions of people here. The energy was different. The people were acting like they were getting ready to see something major happen instead of the lighting of a single Christmas tree. It wasn’t even that big of a tree. I mean, bigger than the one you’d find in a living room, but not like some of the ones I had seen in my travels around the world.
I kept my opinions to myself. This was a big deal to them. I wasn’t going to be the asshole minimizing their special day.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Sylvie said.
“You think?”
“Yep. You’re thinking these hicks are silly. You think we’re crazy to get excited about a little tree. I’m going to assume you’re from New York City.”
“You’re making assumptions.”
“You gave your name and then made us look like idiots because we didn’t immediately know who you were.”
“And now you do?” I asked. “Did you Google me?”
“No, I didn’t.”
I smirked. “I’m not thinking anything. I’m just taking it all in.”
“You’re not a very good liar.”
If she only knew.
When the moment finally came and the evergreen blazed to life with thousands of twinkling lights, I had to admit it was spectacular. The tree had to be at least thirty feet tall, perfectly shaped, and decorated with what looked like decades’ worth of accumulated ornaments that somehow managed to create a cohesive, magical whole instead of looking cluttered.
“You were right,” I told Sylvie as applause and cheers erupted around us. “You really do bury the lead around here.”
