Page 10 of Dancing in Lake Mistletoe

“Right here,” Hannah says as she scoots over a chair to make room for me.

I notice two little girls sitting cross-legged on the rug nearby, sorting plastic spider rings into neat piles.

Willa follows my gaze. “Oh, I forgot. Cobie and Josie, come here for a minute.”

The two girls hop to their feet and make their way to her side.

Willa puts a hand on the taller girl’s head. “This is Cobie.” Then, she switches to the other girl. “And this is Josie.”

Recognition sparks in Josie’s eyes.

“I know you. You were at the café. You liked mya-sheppy,” she says.

“Échappé,” I correct, and then I move into first position and execute a perfect échappé.

“Wow,” the two say in unison.

“Miss Mindi here is from New York City. She’s going to be the Sugar Plum Fairy inThe Nutcrackerthis year,” Willa tells them, and their eyes go wide.

“You’re a real ballerina?” Josie says, her voice full of wonder.

“I am,” I say as I crouch down to her eye level. “But I was once a tiny dancer, learning how to do an échappé too.”

“Will you teach me?” Cobie asks.

I look at her and smile. “Do you take dance classes too?”

She shakes her head. “Mom said I can start in the new year if I keep my grades up.”

“Mom’s right. Schoolwork is the most important. And I’ll be happy to show you both a few little tricks before I leave,” I promise them.

And that earns me two huge grins.

The two of them return to their places on the rug, and Hannah pulls out the chair beside her and pats the seat. “Come sit. We’ve got lots to do.”

I settle in, pulling a plastic bowl of candy closer to me. The table is covered with everything you’d need to make the best Halloween goody bags in town—orange tissue paper, glow sticks, mini pumpkins, stickers shaped like ghosts, and of course, all kinds of candy.

Norah holds up a bag of gummy eyeballs and grins. “Look what I found at that weird little shop on Main Street.”

She tosses a gummy eyeball at Willa, and she catches it and immediately drops it.

“Ew, it feels like an actual eyeball,” Willa squeaks.

“You know kids love the gross stuff,” Norah says, rolling her eyes. “The slimier, the better.”

Trixie passes me a stack of orange paper bags. “You’re the head, Mindi. And, Willa, you’re the caboose. We need two hundred bags in total, and everyone has to have a glow stick, a spider ring, at least two pieces of candy, and one toy. Oh, and a sticker or tattoo.”

“Got it.” I start opening the folded bags, setting up a little assembly line in front of me.

We all settle into a rhythm—passing supplies down the line and chatting as we work. The conversation flows easily, jumping from one topic to the next. Willa tells us about the PumpkinPiddle Paddle. Which happens after next weekend’s pumpkin carving contest. Every entry is lit with a tea light candle and set on a piece of floating cedar. Then, they are set adrift in the lake, like Halloween luminary lights. Hannah talks about her party planning business and tosses around a few ideas she has for this year’s Holly Ball. Trudy shares a story about a haunted hayride she went on when she was a girl and how she couldn’t sleep alone for months.

“Did you scream?” Josie asks, her eyes wide.

Trudy nods. “Like a banshee.”

The little girls giggle, delighted by the image.

I let the chatter wash over me, enjoying the sense of belonging. I’ve been too busy to say yes to things lately—to gatherings, to new people, to being part of something. With long days of practice and night after night of performances, it’s easy to retreat into my own little world sometimes. An island unto myself. But sitting here, opening orange paper bags, and laughing with these women I just met—it feels right, like I’ve been a part of this group forever, even though I’ve only just met them. They’re so warm—Willa with her effortlessly messy bun, Norah twirling a black ribbon around her finger, Hannah digging through a bag of chocolates like she’s on a mission. Trudy and Trixie sitting close together, leaning over the table and laughing at some private joke.

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