“Don’t forget to wave,” she reminded them unnecessarily.
“We know how parades work,” William said dryly, though he was already lifting a hand in greeting to someone across the street.
Meri, Jane, Lucy, and Kitty took their places. They were going to be walking and handing out candy canes as the parade progressed.
Then it was time to start the parade.
I took my place in the driver’s seat, adjusting it just slightly, my boots finding the pedals with familiar certainty. The engine turned over smoothly when I started it, the sound grounding me more than I expected.
First gear. I pressed the clutch, shifted, and guided the truck forward into the route. We rolled forward, following the float in front of us.
People waved as they recognized the inn’s name. Someone shouted a greeting. Mom and Dad waved enthusiastically from the bench.
The truck moved at a steady, deliberate pace, the engine humming beneath my feet like it approved of the attention. I kept my hands light on the wheel, eyes forward, aware of everything at once without feeling overwhelmed by it. Music drifted from the float ahead of us, bells jingled somewhere behind, and the sound of cheering rose and fell as we passed clusters of people bundled up along the sidewalks.
“Snowdrop Inn!” someone called out.
I glanced toward the sound and saw Charlotte waving enthusiastically, her mittened hands raised high. I lifted one hand briefly in return before returning my focus to the road, smiling despite myself.
Mom and Dad were in their element behind me. I caught sight of them in the mirror, waving like seasoned parade veterans. Mom’s joy was so open and unselfconscious that it made my chest ache in the best possible way.
Kitty came up to the bed of the truck, getting more candy canes to give away.
“Careful,” Dad said, though he was smiling too. “You’ll run out.”
“That’s the point,” Kitty replied, tossing another handful anyway.
The truck handled beautifully through the first turn. I eased off the clutch, adjusted, and felt a quiet surge of pride that had nothing to do with anyone else’s approval.
As we moved farther into town, the crowd thickened. People pointed at the float, reading the sign, nodding to one another. Someone shouted a question about reopening dates. Lucy, walking alongside for a stretch, answered with practiced cheer, already in her element as unofficial spokesperson.
I spotted Ephram again near the next intersection, standing tall in his uniform, directing the flow with calm, efficient gestures. He glanced toward the parade as it approached, his gaze finding me almost immediately.
For a second, the noise dimmed.
He didn’t wave. He didn’t smile. He simply met my eyes and gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, the kind that said, You’ve got this without making a production of it.
I nodded back, my grip on the wheel steady, my heart doing something light and quick that I refused to overanalyze.
The rest of the route blurred together in a series of bright moments. Children ran alongside until their parents called them back. A group of teenagers cheering dramatically. Someone snapping photos. The bells ringing in time to the music. The cold air was sharp in my lungs every time I laughed.
By the time we reached the end point, my cheeks ached from smiling.
I guided the truck into its final position and eased it to a stop, hands lingering on the wheel for a moment longer than necessary. When I finally shut off the engine, the sudden quiet felt almost startling.
We had done it.
Mom climbed carefully down from the bed, still laughing. “
Did you see that little boy in the red hat,” she said to no one in particular. “He waved at us like we were royalty.”
Dad followed more slowly, patting the side of the truck fondly. “That went well. It was a good idea to be in the parade, Lydia.”
“Thank you,” I said, the words meaning more than just commentary on my driving.
People began to drift over almost immediately. Familiar faces and friendly strangers. There were questions about the inn, compliments on the float, and congratulations offered with the easy warmth of a town that noticed effort.
“This looks wonderful,” someone said. “How lovely and classic with the greenery and lights.”
