Page 29 of The Christmas Box

As he’s led away, I say hello to always-energetic Janie, her sandy hair up in a messy bun as usual, and hold the door open for another gingerbread entry being carried in by Gail from Winterburger.

After which a gasp is let out, and I turn to look as Helen declares, “Oh my. I’m so glad I decided to walk over after getting off work or I’d have missed this glorious sensation of sugar!” She’s looking at my entry, of course. Orourentry. Well, okay, Travis’s entry. “This is brilliant!”

“Lexi, you didnotmake that,” Dara announces loud enough for a few of the other party-goers to hear.

Great. My buddy betrays me. “How doyouknow what I made and what I didn’t?”

“Because I’ve seen you decorate cookies. You’re good at the rolling and the cutting and the baking, but the decorating is…well, not your forte.”

I let my eyes go wide. “Um, wow, traitor much?”

Though she just laughs. “I’m sorry, but you know it’s true. And really, it’s not that you’re sobadwith icing—it’s just that this is sogood.”

“Fine, fine,” I confess when I realize everyone is looking at me. “I tried to make it myself, but when it wasn’t going very well, Travis leaped in to help and a piece of cookie art was born. It’s still the official entry from the Christmas Box, though.”

“Well, don’t anybody touch it,” says Jim from the Winterberry Gazette, pulling out his phone. “I need to get some pictures for the paper.”

“Just be sure to put Travis’s name on it, even if itisfrom the Christmas Box,” Carl from the Country Creamery insists. The middle-aged man looks down over his glasses as he speaks, reminding me that he’s a no-nonsense stickler about everything, even gingerbread contests.

“Um, that’s really not necessary,” Travis is quick to interject. I’m pretty sure tough guy Travis Hutchins doesn’t want it advertised that he’s been playing with gingerbread.

“No,” Janie insists, “fair is fair. The people of Winterberry deserve the truth.”

He doesn’t argue, probably already realizing it’s a lost cause. And when our eyes meet across the bakery, he mouths:I’m going to kill you. But I just smile. Because he’s cute. And I don’t really think he’s going to kill me. In fact, I almost think he’s starting to like me back.

Not that it matters. He’s made it extremely clear that his time in Winterberry is temporary. And we’re still just as much opposites today as when I opened my shop a couple of weeks ago, or as we were back in high school for that matter.

But for now…I’ll just enjoy his company. Turns out, once I worked my way to letting bygones be bygones, that he was right—he’s not such a bad guy anymore.

As people socialize over snacks, my first thought is to go rescue him from whoever’s got him cornered, but he looks perfectly comfortable talking to Jordan from the pizza place, and then Dara and her mom. So I leave him on his own and chat with other people—everyone is buzzing about all the snow, whether their shopping is done, and the Winterberry Christmas Festival coming up this Friday night. I find out Janie will be there selling cookies and add that I’ll be running the hot chocolate stand. “With her trusty sidekick, me,” Dara comes sliding up at just that moment to add.

After refreshments, Janie announces it’s time to vote. We all circle the long table set up in the middle of the bakery for the contest and a secret casting of ballots commences. In addition to entries from Winterburger, Thoroughbred Pizza, the Country Creamery, and Janie’s, I see gingerbread creations from Kentucky Korner, Uptown Vintage, the Winterberry Antique Mall, the Winterglow boutique, the Cutting Crew Hair Salon, and the Bank of Winterberry. Some of the gingerbread houses are quite elaborate, including one designed to look like a Swiss chalet and another possessing a large, detailed lawn, complete with fondant pine trees and a candy cane fence.

But when Janie counts the votes from the Santa hat she passed around, the resounding winner is the one that looks like my lovely little Christmas shop.

“And so our grand prize—a fifty-dollar gift card for the bakery—goes to…Travis,” she announces, holding it out to him with a smile. Then she looks to me. “Sorry, Lexi, but maybe he’ll share with you.” She ends on a wink and a laugh.

I’m perfectly happy with the outcome, though.Don’t look now, Travis, but you just went to a Christmas party, with a Christmas craft you created in a Christmas shop today, and you don’t even look miserable.As far as Operation Wish Upon a Star goes, today feels—however unexpectedly—like a big step in the right direction.

Travis

The first thing I do after collecting my gift card? Say my goodbyes and get the hell out of there.

But while trudging back up the street through the deepening snow, I see that, to my surprise, the lights are still on at Winterburger. All I’ve had since lunch is a cookie and a cup of punch at the bakery, so I don’t hesitate to duck in from the cold.

“Travis.” The deep, cheerful voice comes from the kitchen—it’s the owner and cook, a guy named Nick, who spotted me through the window behind the counter.

I lift my hand in a wave. “Thought you guys might be closed in this weather.”

He shrugs. “Got a few customers due to the bakery party, so we stayed open.”

I guess the men I see sitting at tables nibbling on fries must have driven their wives to the event.

“Here by myself, though,” Nick says, stepping up front to the register, “so what can I get you? Couple of burgers and fries?”

“Just one tonight,” I tell him, then add a soft drink. He probably thinks I’m skipping the manor this evening due to the snow, and that’s fine with me. I’m not sure why I assume he knows my business, but the small town grapevine usually keeps up on such things.

Ten minutes later, I’m sitting in a booth enjoying a burger, happy to be by myself for the first time since I crossed the street for coffee this morning. I never expected to end up building a gingerbread shop or going to a party. But maybe themostsurprising part is: It wasn’t awful. And hanging out with Lexi was…well, not a bad way to spend a snowy day. Even if I probably should have been working if I want to get the soap shop done any time soon.

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