Page 13 of Chloe

She crosses her arms, looking unimpressed. “The jazz band concert was enough, not to mention the live nativity. I’m not much for singing. Or crowds. Or standing in the cold for no good reason.”

I feel a flash of irritation. This woman is more difficult than I expected. But then I remember Henry’s words about patience and empathy. I take a moment to reach out with my angelic senses, trying to understand what Chloe’s really feeling beneath her prickly exterior.

The emotions hit me like a wave—loneliness, fear, a deep-seated longing for connection, that she’s trying desperately to ignore. Must be an angel thing because my heart softens. No wonder she’s so resistant to the Christmas spirit.

“It’s not about the singing, really,” I whisper. “It’s about being part of something bigger than yourself. Plus, I heard Oliver might be there...”

I see a flicker of interest in Chloe’s eyes at the mention of Oliver’s name. Bingo.

She sighs heavily, as if I’m asking her to climb Mount Everest rather than attend a festive community event. “Fine. I’ll go for a little while, which has nothing to do with Oliver. But I’m not singing.”

“Deal.” I chirp, resisting the urge to do a celestial happy dance on her porch.

Fifteen minutes later, we’re walking towards the town square. The sound of our boots crunching in the snow is accompanied by the distant chiming of bells. Chloe is silent beside me, her posture stiff and her hands shoved deep into her coat pockets. She’s got to be miserable in those high-heeled boots.

As we round the corner, the full splendor of the caroling night comes into view. The courthouse clock tower is adorned with twinkling lights, casting a warm glow over the gathering crowd. The massive Christmas tree in the center of the square is heavy with ornaments, its lights reflecting off the snow. The air is filled with the smell of hot cocoa and the sound of cheerful chatter.

I sneak a glance at Chloe and see her eyes widening slightly as she takes it all in.

“It’s something, isn’t it?” I say softly.

She nods, seemingly despite herself. “It’s... picturesque,” she admits grudgingly.

As we make our way into the crowd, I point out various townspeople to Chloe, spinning stories about their lives and contributions to the community. It’s a risky move—I’m essentially making things up based on what I can glean from my angelic intuition—but I need Chloe to see the heart of this town.

“See that group over there?” I gesture towards a cluster of elderly ladies, their white hair peeking out from beneath colorful knit hats. “They make care packages for the troops. And those teenagers by the tree? They organize the Secret Santa program at the school.”

Chloe’s brow furrows. “How do you know all this?”

I shrug, trying to look nonchalant. “Oh, you know how small towns are. Everyone knows everyone’s business.”

Before Chloe can question me further, I spot Oliver making his way through the crowd, distributing flyers. “Oh look, there’s Oliver.” I say, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. “Let’s go say hi.”

I gently steer Chloe in Oliver’s direction, ignoring her protests. As we approach, Oliver looks up, his face breaking into a warm smile that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners.

“Chloe, I’m so glad you could make it,” he says, his voice full of genuine pleasure. “And Rebecca, always a pleasure.”

I beam at him, noting the way Chloe’s posture straightens ever so slightly in Oliver’s presence. Oh, this is too perfect.

If ever there was a way to get a woman to do something crazy, like get into the season of giving, a hot guy is the answer. I’m not sure why I didn’t think of this as my ace in the hole until now—probably because angels aren’t supposed to play poker.

“Oliver was just telling me about the toy drive the other day,” I say, nudging Chloe gently. “It sounds like such a wonderful initiative.”

Chloe shoots me a look that could freeze hell over, but I just smile innocently. Come on, Chloe. Take the bait.

After a moment of awkward silence, Chloe finally speaks. “A toy drive? That sounds... nice. How does it work?”

Oliver’s face lights up like the Christmas tree behind him as he launches into an explanation of the toy drive. I watch with satisfaction as Chloe listens, her initial reluctance giving way to genuine interest.

“The only problem,” Oliver says, his enthusiasm dimming slightly, “is that I’m struggling a bit with the logistics of it all. Tracking donations, organizing distribution... it’s more complicated than I expected.”

I can practically see the gears turning in Chloe’s head. “That sounds challenging,” she says slowly. “Have you considered using a digital inventory system? It could streamline the entire process.”

Oliver’s eyes widen. “I hadn’t even thought of that. Chloe, that’s brilliant.”

As the two of them discuss the possibilities, I take a small step back, feeling a warm glow of accomplishment. Mission accomplished, for now at least.

Just then, a hush falls over the crowd as the mayor steps up to the lectern in front of the Christmas tree. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he announces, his voice booming across the square, “it’s time for our annual community caroling to begin.”

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