Page 50 of Home for Christmas in July

“You haven’t seenIt’s a Wonderful Life?”

“Correct.”

“How is that possible? How is it possible in general, but also, how could you have grown up inthistown and not watchedthatmovie at least once? The Mistletoe Movie House runs it every December.”

I shrug. “I don’t know, Nick. I just haven’t. But you clearly have. So, what does the clue mean?”

He shakes his head, marveling at this gap in my Christmas knowledge. “At the end of the movie, Zuzu says?—”

“Zuzu?”

“George Bailey’s little girl.” He raises both eyebrows. “Stewart plays George Bailey.”

“Okay, what does Zuzu say?”

“There’s a bell ornament hanging on the Christmas tree in the scene, and it starts to ring. Zuzu points to it and says ‘every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings.’”

I consider this. “So we need to find a bell hanging on a tree? Or just any bell?”

There must be dozens of bells in town. Maybe hundreds. A bell dangles over the entrance of every storefront. The preschool has a handbell choir, which is every bit as chaotic as it sounds. There’s a bell on the circulation desk at the library—a round brass bell like the ones hotel front desks used to have.

He interrupts my mental inventory of bells. “Did you bring the map?”

“Yep.” I unlock my passenger side door and lean in to retrieve it from my glove compartment.

We smooth it out on the hood of my car. He jabs a finger. “There.”

He’s pointing to the Candlelight Chapel right in the middle of town. It has an open belfry, so I can see the logic, but it’s not the no-brainer he’s making it out to be.

“Couldn’t it just as easily be one of the churches? Or even the courthouse? The chapel isn’t the only bell tower in town.”

“True, but it’s the chapel. I know it is.”

He’s probably right. In addition to being Mistletoe Mountain’s go-to wedding spot, the nondenominational chapel gets heavy use for Christmas programs and events. It’s been this way ever since the Great Hitching Post Brawl of Christmas Eve 1916. The Methodist reverend and the Catholic priest were both running late thanks to a snowstorm. The two duked it out over the last available carriage parking spot, and congregants from both churches jumped into the fray, landing all involved on the Naughty List. To avoid a repeat, the town manager strongly recommended that all holiday events be held at the chapel and open to the whole town. And that’s the way it’s been for over a hundred years.

“Okay. Do you have time to go there now?”

He glances at his watch and then his phone before answering. “Ariana texted to let me know she’ll drop the Santa suit off at the inn. The girls have everything else under control. Let’s do it.”

I pullinto the cobblestone alley behind the chapel and park illegally. The Christmas in July crowds have arrived in force, and I feel some empathy for the long-ago men of the cloth and their parking woes. I wait in the car until Nick appears in my rearview mirror. He’s moving fast, striding toward me from the direction of the library, where he returned Farah’s car and checked in on Sage and Thyme.

When he reaches my back bumper, I open my door and step out into the alley. In the distance, I hear faint music, traffic noises, and voices raised in laughter.

“Ready?” he asks as I fall into step beside him.

“Ready.”

I can’t help swiveling around to confirm there’s not a loser in a hat and sunglasses lurking in the bushes. Nick notices.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

“I know.”

I must not sound terribly convincing because he stops walking and turns to face me. I stop, too. His fingers are feather soft as he tips my chin up so that I’m staring into his eyes.

“Noe, I need you to hear this and believe it. I amnotgoing to let anything happen to you.” He rasps the words, his gold and brown starburst eyes searing my skin with their heat.

One hand slides down my arm coming to rest on my hip. The other circles the side of my neck, warm on my bare skin. He tugs me toward him and I move willingly, pressed up against him, my eyes still locked on his. My breath, hot and fast.

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