Page 73 of Home for Christmas in July

She shakes her head.

“Okay, get a candy cane from my friend, and enjoy the rest of the festival.”

“Thanks, Santa!”

She hops down off, takes the candy cane from Noelle, and runs off in the general direction of the playground. Holly steps up and hands us each a bottle of water, then announces to the crowd that there’s going to be a five-minute break for the Clauses to rehydrate.

“Just six more hours today. Then we do it all over again tomorrow. How are you holding up?” I ask Noelle.

She plants a kiss on my ear. “Aside from my aching feet, fine. I’m not sure why Mrs. Claus has to stand but you get to sit.”

“Tradition.”

“Hmm. This one might need an update.”

“Wasn’t she cute, asking for a friend for Enzo?”

“Yeah, cute.” Noelle looks thoughtful. “Enzo Marino? The baker?”

“Right.”

She jerks her chin toward Merry’s dessert truck. “They’d be a sweet match.”

I groan at the pun, then chuckle. “Already matchmaking?”

“It must be the dress,” she tells me.

I eye the dress in question. “Can’t wait to get you out of it, Mrs. Claus,” I tell her in a low, throaty voice.

She blushes, then leans down to whisper in my ear, “And I can’t wait to see which boxers you’re wearing today, Santa.”

“Merry Christmas in July, Noe.”

“The merriest, Nick.”

EPILOGUE

Noelle

Three months later

Mistletoe Mountain’s Holly, Jolly Diwali Festival is in full swing. The name may be a groaner, but the festival itself is lit. Literally and figuratively. This year the Festival of Lights coincides with Halloween, so the town is illuminated with string lights, lanterns, candle-lit jack-o’-lanterns, as well as glowing bats, witches, and ghosts that decorate windows and doors. Children zig-zag across the lawn, laughing and chasing each other, their glow-in-the-dark neon bracelets blurry streaks as they run by.

I let out a contented sigh and snuggle into Nick’s side. He nuzzles my neck. The porch swing he installed on his—our—back porch sways as we sit and watch the festivities. I have boxes still waiting to be unpacked in the house, but they’ll just have to wait. I’m taking Dickens and Carol at their word. Every day, I find at least one opportunity to grab with bothhands. It’s funny how easy they are to find when you’re looking for them.

Like, for instance, saying yes when Nick asked me to move in. Ivy’s moved out and convinced Merry to give up her apartment. They’re living in my cottage, not because we don’t want Ivy here, but because she got tired of walking in on us making out. I can’t help it. I can’t keep my hands off her father.

His neck nuzzling turns into nibbling, and I giggle, pulled out of my reverie.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

I know he’s asking about my deposition. I nod. He must’ve offered to come with me a thousand times, but I had Holly and Marley, and, honestly, I think he was offering in part to get a break from his sister. MJ and Bart came up for a weekend visit. They would’ve stayed longer, but their parole officer wasn’t amused and made them return to New Jersey, pronto. I have a sneaking suspicionhemight have tipped off the Fields’ PO.

“Hello?” he prompts.

“Right. The deposition. It was fine, honestly. It was a video thing, and I didn’t have to see Dante’s disgusting face.” And it means I won’t have to go to Italy for the trial, either.

Dante Bianchi was extradited to Italy because the person he kidnapped there was ajudge’sdaughter. So he’s definitely getting the book—or, in this case,il libro—thrown at him. And as the result of some legal mumbo-jumbo that Holly and Marley told me I didn’t need to understand, the crimes he committed here will be taken into account when he’s sentenced.Andthe judge is reexamining the police complaint I filed in Ravenna back when dinosaurs roamed the earth aspart of Dante’s psychological assessment. Long story short, he’s going to be in prison for a long, long time. Probably the rest of his life.

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