Gladys comes in carrying a box of doughnuts. “Hello everyone! Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas,” we chorus back.
She laughs. “That was in harmony.” She stops at my station first. “Isn’t this lovely? So much holiday spirit in the air. The room is practically buzzing with it.”
Before I can respond, Marcus approaches, curiosity evident in his expression. “I don’t think we’ve officially met,” he says, extending a hand to Gladys. “Are you part of the judging committee?”
I grin at Gladys. “Oh no, she’s my guardian angel.” The words slip out easily. Gladys beams at me.
Marcus takes the explanation at face value, shaking Gladys’s hand with a warm smile.
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Gladys. Bailey’s lucky to have you watching out for her.”
As Marcus returns to his display with a doughnut in his hand, I catch Gladys watching me with a knowing twinkle in her eye. I feel a rush of affection for this quirky, wonderful woman who’s become such an important part of my life in such a short time. She wanders in and out, showing up when I need a kind word or a warm meal.
Logan and I exchange glances across the room, sharing secret smiles that speak volumes. I should be curled up under my tree, too tired to work. Instead, each time our eyes meet, my heart picks up speed, and sleep is the farthest thing from my mind.
The judges will be here tomorrow to determine a winner, but standing here in this moment, surrounded by laughter, twinkling lights, and the warm presence of people I’ve come to care for, I already feel like I’ve won something.
As I return Logan’s gaze, I silently thank whatever divine intervention brought me to Benton Falls and this crazy Christmas tree competition. Because here, amidst the pine needles and glitter, the ribbons and lights, I’ve found something I thought I’d lost forever: the courage to open my heart and believe in the Spirit of Christmas once again.
Eighteen
BAILEY
The cheerful jingle of bells greets me as I push open the door to Ozark Grocers, a gust of warm, cinnamon-scented air enveloping me as I step inside. The store is a riot of festive colors and twinkling lights, and Christmas carols playing softly in the background. I take a deep breath, savoring the mingled aromas of fresh-baked cookies and oranges that seem to define the holiday season inside the store.
As I grab a shopping cart, I notice Mrs. Pennington by the produce section, carefully selecting apples. She looks up, her face lighting up with a warm smile. “Bailey! How lovely to see you.”
I return her smile, genuinely pleased to see the kind-hearted owner of the Pampered Pooch Pantry. I’ve been so busy and keeping such strange hours that we haven’t met up for one of our usual chats. “Hello, Mrs. Pennington. How are you today?”
She approaches, her eyes twinkling. “Oh, I’m just fine. But I hear I’m not the only one doing well these days. A little birdie told me you and that handsome firefighter, Logan Brown, have been spending quite a bit of time together.”
I feel heat rising to my cheeks, caught off guard by her comment. Logan and I haven’t made anything public, unless you count parking in the middle of the street and kissing late at night in public. Which, in a small town, might just be the definition ofpublic. Still, it’s strange to learn that I’m a topic of conversation around town.
I guess we’ve been out to dinner with the rest of the contestants a few times.
And then there was the Ice Games.
Maybe I’m not as discrete as I think I am.
“Oh, um, we’ve just been working on the Christmas tree competition together,” I stammer, my voice sounding unnaturally high even to my own ears.
Mrs. Pennington’s smile widens. “It’s wonderful to see you two getting along so well. You make quite the pair.”
Before I can formulate a response, she pats my arm and moves on to the bakery section, leaving me standing there with my mouth slightly agape. I shake my head. It’s no big deal. Mrs. Pennington is my friend, so of course, she’ll be watching out for me.
I try to focus on my shopping list, making my way down the aisles. I’m so tired I could sleep in the frozen foods section. The store is bustling with activity, shoppers chatting and laughing as they stock up on holiday essentials. Christmas is about a week away, and no one wants to run out of goodies and baking supplies. As I reach for a can of cranberry sauce, I overhear two women talking in hushed, excited tones.
“That’s her,” one whispers. “I saw her decorating the Johnson house with Logan last night. They’re so cute together.”
“Oh, how romantic,” the other replies. “It’s about time Logan found someone.”
I nearly drop the can, my hands suddenly shaking. How do they know about the Johnson house? Something inside of me itches. It’s like a pinecone has made its way into my sweater and is scratching away at my good mood and clear mind.
I hurry away, trying to escape the ghosts of my past that are trying to capture me in their icy grip.
My cheeks burning, I round a corner and bump into Marcus.
