Page 12 of Falling Like Snow

“Gracias, amiga.” He ruffles my hair, catches up to Daphne, and heads to class.

That night, a light rain falls over the town, kissing my cold cheeks as I walk down Saffron Lane. Mom and I loaded the bins of clear bulbs and the box of paper strips into the gazebo this afternoon while volunteers hung strings of holiday lights on the large white pine in the square. Aunt Annie, Ellis’s mom, brought the supplies she gathered from her job at Art Attack, and Forrest set up speakers for music outside the hardware store, completing the easy preparation for tonight’s event.

Except for the dim light from the lampposts fighting its way through the misty air, downtown is bathed in darkness. Not even the moon is out tonight. Businesses have closed, and it seems all of Bramble Falls has gathered on the soggy lawn despite the less-than-ideal weather.

“Sloane! Hey!” someone calls as I’m passing one of many tents erected last minute for shelter. I turn to find Hannah standing in her light gray parka with her dad and her grandma, huddled beneath a single large black umbrella.

I make my way toward them, splashing through copious puddles. “Hey! Crappy night, huh?”

“Yeah, we aren’t staying very long,” Hannah says. “Don’t want Gammy to get sick.”

Hannah’s grandma purses her lips. “Don’t try to blame me, missy. I never get out anymore. I’d be perfectly happy to stay out all night.”

“Let her live a little, Hanns,” I say, winking at Gammy, whose short white hair looks like she put it in curlers for the occasion.

“That’s what we’re doing right now!” Hannah argues.

“Hardly,” her grandma mutters.

“We’re here, Mom. What more do you want?” Hannah’s dad asks, the rings under his eyes and the slump in his posture telling a story of exhaustion. “What would make this more exciting for you?”

“I don’t know!” She crosses her frail arms. “Perhaps mud wrestling. Or streaking.”

A laugh barrels out of me at the unexpected comment. “That would be exciting to watch, I suppose.”

A crease forms between her eyebrows. “No, dear, I don’t want to watch. I want to participate.”

“Gammy!” Hannah exclaims, appalled. Her dad grips the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger and sighs.

“Don’t be such a killjoy, Hannah,” I laugh. “Let the woman run naked through the streets.”

Hannah looks at her grandma. “You’re eighty-two, Gammy. You’d probably break a hip doing either of those things.”

Her grandma lifts her chin. “Oh, hogwash. See, this is why you’re not my favorite grandchild.”

“I’m your only grandchild.”

“Doesn’t make it any less true,” her grandma says.

“Attention!” Mom shouts into her megaphone from nearby, cutting off Hannah’s response. “Can I have your attention, please?” The crowd quiets and turns to face her. “Thank you all for coming to the annual Bramble Falls tree-lighting ceremony! As we enter another winter and close out another wonderful year, I want to take a moment to tell all of you how much I appreciate your dedication to our town, your participation in our events, and your ongoing support for me as your mayor. I am forever inspired by our close-knit community and the enthusiasm and effort each of you brings to everything we do together. Thank you.”

Applause erupts, and Mom grins. Eventually she holds up her hand, silencing the crowd, and continues. “Tonight is a celebration of the beginning of the holiday season. But it’s also a celebration of all we’ve accomplished this year and an opportunity to consider our hopes for the future—and to put those wishes into the universe. After all, it is the season for miracles. So, let’s manifest!

“This year, we begin the tradition of making Winter Wishes. Clear ornaments and strips of paper are in the gazebo, and due to the rain, we’ve also set up tents along the lawn’s perimeter, where we’ve put lanterns, boxes of ornaments, paper, and art supplies. Betty Lynn has unlocked the café and Fiona has kept the library open if you’d prefer to be warm and dry. Feel free to decorate your bulbs, but it certainly isn’t a requirement. Then write down your wish and put it inside the bulb. We only ask that they’re hanging by nine o’clock, at which point we will light the tree! Oh, and there’s free hot chocolate in carafe dispensers around the square, provided by the Caffeinated Cat, so be sure to thank Betty Lynn for her hospitality! Thank you and have a great night, everyone.”

The crowd disperses, most people gathering ornaments and supplies and heading indoors as holiday songs begin playing. I say goodbye to Hannah and her family and take my buzzing phone out of my coat pocket.

Asher: Meet me at the gazebo.

I peer over at the small white structure that will soon be wrapped in lights and garlands and red bows, and I immediately spot him. With one leg crossed in front of the other, Asher’s standing inside the gazebo with his hands in the pockets of his yellow coat, his shoulder propped against a post at the top of the steps. Water drips from his hair as he scans the lawn.

“Hey,” I say as I approach.

His face lights up when he spots me. “Hey, yourself.”

“How’d tutoring go after school?” I ask, joining him under the shelter and pushing his wet hair off his forehead.

“Fine. Longer than usual, though. Do you want to go to the library?” he asks. “I think Ellis and Cooper went to the Caffeinated Cat, but it looks packed in there.”