Page 36 of Mistletoe

“No one,” Emma repeated, not even trying to make it sound like anything but a desperate lie.

Her mother hummed and nodded her head, silently saying that Emma was completely wrong but would have to figure out why on her own.

What Emma couldn’t explain or understand was Hal’s insistence on avoiding her. He attempted to break her out of the sheriff’s office. He pulled her into an alley, putting himself at risk just to say hello when he should have been fleeing from that search party. Why the sudden shyness? Unless she had misunderstood their kiss.

She had, hadn’t she?

She kissed him. His initial response told her it had been unwanted. Then he kissed her back and it was very much wanted.

No, she hadn’t misunderstood. The spark between them was real. The rabbits and pheasants, though, were odd, and reminded her too much of the cat sharing in the spoils of her mouse hunting.

When her parents retired for the night, Emma decided to stay in the parlor to avoid missing any late-night deliveries. She’d sleep on the settee if necessary.

By the light of the fire, she worked on the pair of new trousers intended for Hal. Of course her mother noticed the trousers were far too tall for Emma herself; Agatha noticed everything.

Emma’s stitches weren’t terribly even, but they weren’t terribly uneven either. Passable, at best. For most things, work clothes or patching up older garments, it didn’t matter. Agatha did the sewing on the finer items, like Emma’s one good dress. Her mother’s stitches were delicate and fine, as good as any seamstress. Emma’s were adequate. They held the cloth together, and adequate was good enough for a pair of trousers for Hal.

Hopefully, she got the measurements right. Using his height and how poorly Felix’s old clothes fit, she made her best estimate.

As the fire died down, her eyes grew heavy, and she nodded off.

Steps creaked on the front porch, jolting her awake. The trousers and sewing basket fell to the floor.

Emma hurriedly wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and rushed outside.

Silence.

Moonlight sparkled on the fresh snow. Her breath hung in the air. Awareness of being watched pricked down her back, making her shiver as much as the cold. More so.

The only thing on the porch was a set of tracks. Two footprints led up the steps and down again.

Emma followed the tracks until they shifted to a set of four prints. In the half-light of the moon, she discerned that the prints were paws, not the hoofprints a wandering goat would make. Still, she checked the barn. All the animals were accounted for.

Emma hurried back into the house, that prickling sensation of being watched never leaving.

Hal

Mistletoe Farm

“So, you’re the mysterious benefactor.”

Hal paused, as if remaining still could make him invisible. He had observed the family for the last few days. Their schedule was consistent. They should be inside at this time of the evening. Instead, the old man had been napping in a rocking chair on the porch, a blanket over his lap.

Either Hal was not as silent as he thought or the sleep had been a ruse.

Hal’s money was on ruse. The older man turned to face where Hal stood and the gleam in his eyes was pure cunning.

“My eyes might not work, but I can hear you just fine,” the man said.

Blind. That explained the lack of reaction to Hal’s appearance.

“I—” Hal cleared his throat. Despite not having uttered a word in the last four days, his voice still felt raw from his conversations with Emma and Draven. He managed to stumble out, “It’s a gift.”

“While it’s appreciated, I doubt it’s for me.”

“Emma did me a good turn.”

“Did she? She’s a good egg, my daughter. Oscar De Lacey, by the way. Pleasure making your acquaintance and all that.”

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