“That was clever using the old truck. It creates some nostalgia,” another added. “Is the inn currently open?”
I answered without hesitation, without shrinking, without deflecting. I smiled and I explained about the SnowDrop Inn being open for business. I stood there with my family and felt, unmistakably, like I belonged in the center of this moment.
Eventually the crowd thinned, people moving on to the next float, the next attraction. We began packing up slowly, hands numb from the cold but spirits high. Jane chatted animatedly with Kitty while Meri quietly adjusted a loose ribbon, her eyes thoughtful.
I stepped away for a moment, moving toward the edge of the square where things were quieter. The sounds of the parade continued around me, but softer now, like background music.
I looked back at the truck and saw my parents laughing together as they folded the blanket from the bench. It put an answering smile on my face. This was what I had intended. A happy family outing where we bonded together.
“Nice job,” Ephram said, coming up beside me.
“Thank you,” I replied, just as steady. “You’ll notice I didn’t cause a single accident or stall out even once.”
“I did notice,” he agreed.
“Perhaps it’s because I had a good teacher,” I gracefully allowed.
“Your family seems very happy,” he observed, ignoring my compliment. “Why aren’t you celebrating with them?”
“I just wanted to take a step back and commit the moment to memory,” I softly mentioned. I studied his face for a moment. “Why did you ignore my compliment? I said you were a good teacher, and I meant it.”
Startled, Ephram looked at me then looked away, shrugging. “I suppose I’m not really comfortable with compliments. I just see things as doing what’s right. I don’t really need thanks for doing something.”
I tilted my head, filing this away as part of the mystery of Ephram who I was finding out more about each day. “Well, if you stick around my family and I, expect to get the occasional compliment, even if you view it as unnecessary.”
“Does that mean you think we will be spending more time together?” he softly questioned.
“You can count on it,” I cheerily told him before heading to rejoin my family.
Chapter Nineteen: The Aftermath
Ephram
By the time the last float cleared the route, the cold had settled into everything like it owned it. My feet and my hands felt frozen despite thermal socks and gloves.
I stood at my intersection longer than necessary because it was my job to be the last barrier between “festive chaos” and “someone gets hit by a minivan." I watched a man shepherd two toddlers across the street like he was herding puppies. A teenager ran back to retrieve a dropped scarf and nearly slipped on a patch of ice, catching herself with a dramatic arm windmill that made her friends laugh. Someone’s dog tried to follow a marching band member, convinced it had found its people.
It was a good turnout, showing pride and participation of the members of the small town.
Across the street, the Bennets were still gathered around the truck. The antique pickup looked like it had always belonged in the center of Maple Ridge’s Christmas parade, which was ridiculous, considering it had spent most of its recent life collecting dust in a garage. I watched Lydia as she chatted with her sisters and parents. Her smile came out without hesitation. Her cheeks were rosy with the cold. Lydia listened as Kitty spoke with her whole body, hands moving, head tilting, an opinion spilling out in every direction. Lydia laughed, and the sound carried, bright and unguarded.
Helen and William were near the tailgate, folding the blanket they had used on the bench in the truck bed. Helen waved at someone I didn’t recognize and laughed as the personwaved back. William shut the tailgate, expression pleased in the restrained way of a man who approved of something but did not feel the need to announce it.
When I turned away, it felt like leaving something unfinished behind me. I spent the next hour clearing away the barricades that had helped line the parade route, opening streets to traffic once more.
Back at the station, the warmth hit like a slow shock. The building always smelled faintly of old coffee and paper, with an undertone of disinfectant that never quite left. The lobby was quiet, Gail absent from her desk for a moment.
I hung up my coat, set my hat on my desk, and started logging the parade coverage notes. It had been routine with no real incidents except for a couple of minor traffic complaints. A kid temporarily separated from his parents and reunited within five minutes, which somehow still resulted in a full report.
I had just finished typing when my boss appeared in the doorway of his office. “North, I need to talk with you.”
“Yes, sir,” I replied, standing automatically.
I followed him into his office, and only when he gestured did I take a seat. I watched as he sat down, stirring his coffee.
“Good turnout today,” he remarked.
“It was,” I agreed. “No major issues.”
