Page 117 of Kiss Me at Christmas
Her top cardigan was growing a snowy crust. She needed to do something before they both became snowmen.
“James. I’m here.”
He turned and smiled at her.
“Ah, good. Right, here goes!” He bent down and rolled up each of his trouser legs and then began to untie one of his shoes, pushing his foot out of it with the toes of his other shoe and hopping as he slipped off his sock and poked it into the empty shoe. He grinned at her and placed his naked foot down on to the ground, where it instantly sank into the snow.
“All the holy saints! That’s cold!” he yelled, before bending down and repeating the process with the other shoe and sock. “Christ on a bike!” he shouted, hopping from one naked foot to the other and getting some unusual looks from the trombone section of the band. He began to walk backward and forward in front of her, his hands flexing open and shut as he went.
“What are you doing?” she asked incredulously.
“I’m glad you asked.” His voice was halting from the cold. “You once told me that you’d never loved anyone enough to walk barefoot in the snow. So, this is me, walking barefoot in the snow for you, to prove how much I think I love you. I can’t promise that I won’t make mistakes, but I can promise that you are the only woman that I will ever walk barefoot in the snow for.”
“You silly ass!” she laughed. “You’re going to get frostbite!”
“It’ll be worth it if you admit that you think you love me too.” His teeth were chattering loudly.
In a moment of rebellion against every risk-averse instinct, she reached under her long needlecord tunic and wriggled her tights down as far as the tops of her boots, noticing the cymbal player miss his cue as he watched her with a frown on his face. Then she unzipped her boots and stepped out of both them and her tights. James burst out a shivery laugh.
“Mother Smucker Gloriana ballbags!” she screeched as her feet sank into the snow. The trumpet player played a bum note in surprise. She began to move about with James in a sort of exaggerated pony trot, hopping from foot to foot as she went, so that the two of them looked like they were performing the weirdest ever “Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy.” “You are the rogan josh I’ve always wanted but been too afraid to try!” she said breathlessly.
“That’s wonderful, I think?” James said, his voice shaking. “What does that actually mean?”
“It means I think I love you too!”
“Thank flock for that!” he said, pulling her into his arms and lifting her off the ground as he kissed her.
The Salvation Army band began an impromptu rendition of “All I Want for Christmas.”
“For the love of all things holy!” shouted Grace, standing in the doorway dressed in robes of gray flowing chiffon as the Ghost of Christmas Past. “Have you lost your senses? Get in here at once!”
Still hopping from foot to foot, they did as they were told, sheepishly picking up their discarded footwear and following Grace back into the theater, where she made them both sit in the wings with their feet in bowls of warm water and forced them to drink cups of hotsweet tea laced with brandy even though it wasn’t even lunchtime.
The theater was filling up fast. Harriet had managed a quick hello to Emma and Pete when they’d arrived but had no time to chat. Evaline—who was seated in her royal box, a picture of austere glamour in evening gown, pearls, and a tiara with Austin by her side—had informed her that the show was sold out, though she’d shown no pleasure in the news. Also in the box with her were two stiffly suited men that Evaline had introduced as the representatives of the theater groups interested in purchasing the Winter Theater. The tarp ceiling was undoubtedly an eyesore, but Harriet surmised it was unlikely to be a dealbreaker when the rest of the theater was so utterly majestic. She had quashed the theatrical urge to hiss and boo when she shook the representatives’ hands. All she could do now was hope that Evaline wouldn’t go back on her word.
Backstage, the frantic energy was palpable, pulsing down corridors and into dressing rooms like shock waves. Nerves were stretched thin, but the camaraderie was strong, and inevitable snaps prompted fits of giggles rather than scoldings. The bonhomie was infectious, and it infused every soul behind the scenes.
The corridors leading off each wing were lined with clothing rails ready for swift costume changes. Orchestral Christmas carols floated out through speakers fixed high up on the walls, piped down from a sound system that would complement Prescilla’s piano playing throughout the show. There were two states of motion backstage: running full pelt or standing stock-still. It was as though every person in the production had wokenthat morning having forgotten how to walk at a reasonable pace.
“Come, come, good people, places, please!” Gideon implored. “The lights go down in one short minute, and then it is curtain up! This company is ready to give the town of Little Beck Foss the greatest show in its history! So without further ado I say to you all, break a leg! Break all your legs! And give this town something to remember!”
The cheers may have been muted by nerves, but wide smiles said that his words had done their job.
“Okay, places, everyone!” said Harriet. Her heart was beating wildly. She hadn’t felt this jittery since two pink lines had indicated she was pregnant with Maisy. With every fiber of her being she wanted this production to go well for the famous five and all the people who had given their time and positive energy to the cause.
Ahmed and the narrators and townspeople who would be opening with him lined up in the wing beside Harriet. The curtains obscured the audience, but the low rumble of voices vibrated the boards beneath their feet. They knew the lights had gone down when an excited ripple of sound spiked in the auditorium and then grew quiet.
“Okay,” said Harriet, offering them one final thumbs-up and a maniacal smile. “On you go, you’ll be amazing, you’ve got this!” She ushered them onto the stage and watched Ahmed’s chest fill with a deep breath before the curtains were drawn up.
“Marley was dead: to begin with…”
The next two and a half hours were a blur of frantic costume changes, makeup touch-ups, and hissedencouragements and congratulations. Harriet was stationed in the left wing and James the right, their eyes meeting fleetingly and often before their focus was redirected to their duties.
Carly and Ricco—as Belle and young Scrooge—sang “What If” to a rapt audience while behind the curtain the stage was readied with swift precision for the next scene. When they’d finished, bowing their heads and moving back away from one another as though pulled asunder by the hands of time, the sudden quiet left by their voices was filled with sniffs and hiccups before applause rolled through the theater like thunder.
Harriet grabbed them as they left the stage and hugged them tight.
“Amazing! You were even better than in the dress rehearsal.”
