Page 54 of Dancing in Lake Mistletoe

“Good. Now, go enjoy the rest of your night off. It’s back to the grind tomorrow,” she commands.

I nod and start to walk back to the girls before turning back. “Thank you, Soma.”

She smiles and nods.

I return to Sela and Lydia, who have almost reached the head of the line.

“Who was that?” Sela asks.

“My artist director and her wife,” I say. Still stunned by the conversation.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m great,” I answer, shaking my head. I look down at the girls. “Are you two ready? I think we’re next.”

Josie grasps my hand. “Ready!”

I help Josie up into the sleigh, and she takes a seat next to Lydia. Sela and Cobie are on the opposite bench.

“Where are you going to sit, Mindi?” Josie asks.

“We can scooch over,” Lydia says.

“Oh, no. That’s okay. I’ll just sit up front,” I say. “If that’s allowed.” I look at the gentleman who is controlling the line.

“Sure. Old Nick won’t mind.”

He takes my hand as I step up onto the sleigh and settle in beside the driver.

With a click of his tongue, the horses start a slow trot toward the trail that circles the lake. The snow crunches beneath thesleigh, a sound that matches the steady rhythm of the horses’ hooves. I sit back against the red leather seat, tucked under a knit blanket, as we glide along the edge of Lake Mistletoe. The air is sharp and cold, biting at my cheeks, but it’s worth it for the view and for the giggles drifting up from the seats behind me.

“Comfortable, miss?” the driver’s voice rumbles, low and warm.

I turn to look at him, my curiosity hard to contain. He’s a sight to behold, almost like he stepped out of a storybook. His white beard cascades down his chest in a thick, curling mass, and his belly—a proper round belly—is tucked into faded black slacks, held up by suspenders that seem to groan a little under the weight. A red-and-black newsboy cap is pulled low over his eyes.

“Yes, thank you,” I say, tugging a blanket from the back of the seat around me. “It’s beautiful out here.”

He grunts in agreement, his hands steady on the reins. “Lake Mistletoe has a way of working magic on folks,” he says, his voice low for only me to hear. “Seems to bring people just what they need.”

I smile, unsure if he means the lake or the sleigh ride itself. “I could use a little magic,” I admit, letting the words slip out before I can second-guess them.

He nods. “Magic comes in all shapes and sizes. The problem is, most people don’t recognize it, even when it’s staring ’em right in the face.” He gives the reins a little flick, guiding the horses around a bend, where tall pines cast dark shadows on the snow.

The sleigh jostles slightly as we hit a bump, and I reach for the edge of the seat. I glance back at Josie, and she’s unfazed. Then, my eyes come back to our driver. There’s something about him that’s both comforting and just a bit unsettling, as if heknows things he shouldn’t. His eyes twinkle as he looks out over the lake, his mouth curving into a thoughtful smile.

“You look like someone who’s got a lot on her mind,” he observes.

My cheeks heat up, though I doubt he can see it in the cold night air. “I suppose you could say that. I’ve … got some big decisions to make.”

He lets out a low chuckle. “Big decisions, eh? Isn’t it funny how those always come around this time of year?”

I bite my lip, watching as the horses’ breath puffs out in soft white clouds. “I’m trying to make the right choice, but … I don’t know … it’s like I can’t see the whole picture.”

The driver nods again, as if he’s heard the same story a hundred times. “Truth is, sometimes, seeing the whole picture’s not what you need,” he says, his voice low. “Sometimes, it’s the heart that’s got the answer, even if the head can’t make heads or tails of it.”

I frown, the words sinking into me like stones in water. “But what if my heart … what if it’s confused too?”

He chuckles a warm sound that floats on the cold air. “Oh, hearts are rarely confused, Miss Mindi. They might be scared, or stubborn, or just plain tired. But lost? Nah. Hearts know the way—they always do. Just gotta be willing to listen.”

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