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He didn’t know how to respond. He needed to tell her he was leaving Hard Luck. But he hadn’t encountered the right opportunity. “Fortune cookies can be reckless,” he said, forcing a smile of his own.

She didn’t seem to notice that he was holding back. “Do you miss all the people you knew in North Dakota?”

“Some of them,” he replied. “Do you think you’ll ever be able to forgive Glenda?”

“I can forgive her and still not want to be her friend. She’s not capable of loyalty, and loyalty means a lot to me. That’s what gives me a sense of security. What kind of friendship could we really have if I can’t rely on her?”

He cringed because he was going to fail her, too. “I see your point.”

She opened her fortune cookie. “‘There is nothing stronger than a broken woman who has rebuilt herself,’” she read and propped the slip up by her glass. “That’s encouraging.”

“You’re going to be fine,” he said. Now was the perfect time to tell her about the offer he’d received—to insist that she didn’t need him or anyone else. But he hesitated too long, and she got up and started closing the food containers and putting them in the fridge.

When she came back to the table, she stopped to knead his shoulders for a few minutes before dropping a kiss on his cheek—and then he couldn’t do it.

After the festival would be better, he decided. She was so hopeful, worried and excited for the town. He didn’t want to do anything to ruin her exultation if the festival was a huge success or exacerbate her disappointment if it wasn’t—but he couldn’t swallow around what he was about to do to her.

Chapter Twenty

Thursday had arrived at last. Patience couldn’t help being a little nervous as she entered the bakery just before the first day of the festival was about to start. Tara had finished the cookies, and they looked great, especially since she’d had to bake and decorate so many in such a short period of time. Patience was impressed, but she’d expected them to be good. She’d seen all but the most recent batches when she came over to help yesterday. Although she wasn’t capable of such elaborate decorating—had no experience with that sort of thing—she’d gathered ingredients, handled some of the mixing, set timers, put cookies in and out of the oven, acted as a gofer for Tara, and washed dishes.

She’d wanted to see Kanon after she left—had been tempted to go by his room at the motel on her way home. She’d never missed someone like she missed him when he wasn’t around. And she hadn’t heard from him since their Chinese dinner, which seemed odd. She was eager to make sure everything was okay, but she didn’t want to bother him if he preferred to be left alone.

She expected to see him tonight, although she hadn’t run into him yet. She’d been too busy checking on all the store owners and vendors to make sure everyone was ready for their first night, and she hadn’t gotten down as far as the motel. It was beyond the section of town the police had blocked off to allow for the foot traffic they were anticipating.

There weren’t a lot of revelers out and about, but it was early yet. She hoped they’d come. At least the weather wasn’t working against her. The forecast had been correct—it was dry with little wind, so even though it was dark and cold, Christmas was in the air. Not only could she smell Tara’s cookies when she arrived at the bakery, she’d smelled roasting chestnuts, and cinnamon and other spices in the hot mulled cider she’d passed along the way, not to mention the pine-scented candles one vendor was selling in a tent in the middle of the street where other crafters, who made everything from soap to monogrammed Christmas stockings to peppermint bark, had also rented booths.

Tara looked frazzled when she looked up from the register. “Is everyone else ready?” she asked.

“Looks like it to me,” Patience said.

“Good.” She sighed. “I’m heading home.”

“You’re not staying for the big event?”

“I’ll experience it tomorrow,” Tara said. “After you left last night, I decided to stick it out rather than get up super early this morning. I didn’t want to take the chance I wouldn’t get done in time, and it turns out that was a wise decision. I just finished the last batch.”

“Do you need me to watch the bakery and hand out the cookies?”

“No. My husband’s on his way.” She got her coat from the rack in the corner where there was also a receptacle for umbrellas. “Do you think we’ll get enough people to make everything we’ve done worthwhile?”

Patience had no way of gauging that. “We’ll soon see. I think the people who do come will have a great time. The town looks gorgeous.” Strings of lights crisscrossed the street all the way down to the park, culminating in the giant Christmas tree, which was lit up with over a thousand lights. There was a live nativity scene there, too, put on by the high school, as well as a staging area for Santa—much to the delight of the younger kids. There was even a place where people could donate money and gifts for underprivileged children. That initiative was spearheaded by the church—i.e., her father—although, much to her relief, he hadn’t shown up to man the booth yet.

“I guess we’ve done all we can,” Tara said.

The door opened as someone else came in. Patience assumed it’d be a customer or someone who’d raced around to get their card filled with stamps and was already looking for the free cookie.

But it was Glenda.

Patience wished she could simply avoid her former friend. She had no ill will toward Glenda; she just wanted to forget her along with the rough years following her divorce.

If only Glenda felt the same way…

Apparently, she didn’t, because she seemed to turn up everywhere. “Hi,” she said as the door swung shut behind her.

“Hi.” Patience assumed she’d interact with Tara, but she settled her gaze on Patience.

“I saw you come in and just…wanted to tell you that you’ve done an excellent job on the festival. There’s already a line of kids to see Santa.”