Page 59 of The Snuggle is Real
“I’m still dealing with this problem next door, but I’ll check back when I can.”
“Got it. So once the vendors are out…”
“Fold up the tables and chairs. Stack ’em against the far wall for now. We’ll dismantle the larger anchor displays last. Those require a little more effort.”
“Got it.” I headed for the dolly parked by the back entrance, which was propped open. I wheeled it to the nearest table, where a silver-haired woman was packing away sock monkeys.
“Those are adorable,” I said.
She smiled. “Started making them for my grandkids. They loved them so much, I got the bug and started making more. It’s a hobby that’s gotten out of hand.”
I laughed. “Well, I’m sure that hobby is making a lot of kids happy. My little girl would sure adore one.”
“Well, here.” She dug into her box and came up with a miniature sock monkey. “On the house.”
“Oh, I couldn’t.”
She waved a hand. “The fair is over anyhow, and I’m hoping that dolly means you’re gonna help this poor old lady move all these boxes?”
“It sure does.”
“Then take it for your girl. Merry Christmas.”
“That’s very kind.” I tucked the toy into the breast pocket of my flannel jacket, then reached for the first large box.
The load of stuffed monkeys ended up being the easiest one that day. I helped another vendor carry heavy portable fireplaces to a waiting trailer. Another had dozens of delicate ornaments that looked as if they’d break if I sneezed too hard near them.
But eventually, the building cleared out. It wasn’t until I’d worked my way to the far end that I spotted Mason.
He stood closing up a box at a six-foot table. Mrs. Lil sat behind it, her knitting needles clacking while they talked companionably.
A second large box filled with coats sat by Mason’s feet. Scarves and hats filled another. Holiday Hope Foundation brochures fanned across the table along with a neat stack of aid applications.
Signage behind them read:Winter Coat & Toy Drive.
Always working. Always helping others.
I took a step forward, a smile tugging at my lips, then stopped as a mother with three little ones hustled up to the table.
“You’re not leaving yet, are you?”
Mason turned toward her. “The fair is closing down, but we’re still here. What can I help you with?”
She hesitated, biting her bottom lip. I shouldn’t be eavesdropping.
“I heard there was some kind of new Adopt-A-Family program for the holidays?”
“Oh.” Mason’s face tightened. “Where did you hear that? The program is still in the testing phase, so unfortunately, we’re not taking applicants.”
“Oh.” Her shoulders slumped. “My hairdresser told me, and her waitress told her, and I think a chocolate-maker mentioned something to her? Or maybe it was the baker?” She waved her hands. “I don’t rightly know. Gossip gets around.”
“It sure does.” Mason picked up a brochure and an application. “Here’s information on the programs available. We’ll help however we can.”
She looked down. “This is just a few things. They’ll help, but I was really hoping…” She trailed off, casting sad eyes at her kids.
She held a two-year-old girl on her hip, a little boy drove a car back and forth at her feet, and the oldest—about eight—stood quietly at her side.
Could she hear everything her mom wasn’t saying? Did she understand she wouldn’t be getting a good Christmas without help?
