Page 47 of Christmas in Paradise

I grow more excited as I tell Hope about Mrs. C’s little animals and how her granddaughter is creating background scenes for them so they can make stop-motion videos together.

But it’s not Mrs. C’s hobby that’s got me excited. It’s seeing how in love Hope is with the idea of it. Her blue eyes grow wider and brighter, and I can’t stop looking at her.

“That sounds completely adorable. Charly would love that,” Hope says.

“Bring her into my shop sometime. Mrs. C’s always at the front working on them in between answering phones and helping customers.” My invitation sounds too hopeful. Too desperate. But Hope doesn’t move away. “She could see Radley—I mean, Uncle Rad—too.”

“I’ll do that.” Hope nods excitedly, then stops. “I mean, I don’t know when. Some day when I have a spare minute.”

“Whenever you want. Just let me know.” I bite my bottom lip, then decide to go for my next offer. “You can always bring Charly over to the house to see Uncle Rad too, when I’m there, obviously, since Mom is still not on board with having a dog in the house.”

At this Hope smiles, and I go on. “Charly’s been there a few times when I’ve stopped by for lunch, and she goes nuts over Rad. Rad loves her too.”

“Yeah. I’ll let you know.” She takes one step away, and I kick myself for being too eager.

“Can I see what else you’ve got planned? Are all the events free?” I shift just enough to give her a little more space.

“Yeah. Go ahead. Take a look.” She hands me the iPad. “Every event will be live, but there’s a virtual component to it also. People can pay for different levels of packages that include the events they want to attend or watch. So, while Mrs. C. teaches live, we’ll show the pre-recorded video of her teaching how to make the… whatever they’re called. But website visitors will have access to it after that night.”

“Brilliant!”

I go through more doors. Some have information about the free live events taking place in Paradise that won’t have a virtual component—like the Lighting Main Street night on December second and the dance around the Christmas tree in the town square that happens on December twenty-fourth.

Then there are the events that can only be live, but also cost to get into. Like the Jingle Ball on December sixteenth and the candlelight walking tour around downtown that includes the history of Paradise’s early Danish settlers. That one happens a couple nights a week.

There’s a Christmas Market every Saturday, right here in the barn, where locals will sell their own hand-made stuff. There’s also a Danish traditional Christmas dinner—aJulefrokost—that will be hosted here but Adam will be making all the food. And on December fifth, a night of folk dancing featuring dances from all over the world performed by children.

“Folk dancing? Will the kids be doingSyvspring?” I look at Hope, and she quickly looks away, like she’s been staring at me.

“Is that the Danish one that has seven jumps in it, or something?” Her cheeks are a rosy pink, and I think she knows I caught her staring.

“That’s it.” I turn my eyes back to the iPad to give her a break. “We used to learn it every year in school. I still know it.”

“Really? I asked your mom if she could teach a dance to her students, because I was hoping Charly could be part of the show. But she said the only one she knows is the tarantella, and one of the elementary teachers is already teaching her students a dance from Italy,” Hope says.

“Yeah, Mom resists anything that’s not Italian. Which is why she still has an accent even though she’s spent most of her life here.” I laugh, then I have an idea. One that scares the stuffing out of me.

But I offer it anyway.

“I could teach CharlySyvspring. I know all the teachers at the school. I can talk them into letting her perform it with them, if you think she’d like that.”

Hope blinks, and I hold my breath while she considers her answer. “I think she might like it. Sometimes she turns into a little performer when she’s in front of people. But, even if she didn’t get on stage, learning the dance would be good for her developmentally, as long as it’s not too difficult.”

I thought Hope’s face was bright before, but the way she looks now, talking about Charly? She’s the sun instead of a distant star.

“It’s literally turning in a circle and jumping seven times. She could totally do it, and I could go on stage with her. I could round up a costume for her too.” I try not to smile too big. I don’t want to scare Hope away again.

“That would be amazing. Thank you.” Her face still shines, but her words are slow and soft.

“You bet.” I hand the iPad back to her. “We’d better get to planning. Carson is expecting a report.”

“Right.” Her fingers touch mine, and maybe it’s my imagination, but time stops for a few seconds. “Let’s do this.”

We spend the next couple hours working together, figuring out details for as many of the events as possible. There’s no more touching, and there’s some back and forth when we don’t agree on something, but for the most part, we work well together.

And that’s got to count for something.

But maybe not as much as my offer to teach Charly to dance, even though my palms sweat every time I think about it.

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