Page 64 of Sweet Silver Bells
Hunter nodded.
“We don’t need any more ornaments, Nina. The tree already looks like it has exploded,” Tom said as Nina moved onto another vendor table, lifting a glittery snowflake.
“But these are so festive.” Her smile didn’t suggest that she realized that Tom was a dick.
“So was the glitter avalanche last year. I was still finding sparkles in my socks in late March.” Tom moved over to Hunter and Darius, his eyebrows raised as if he were joking with a group of his friends.
“I’m sorry, are you talking to us?” Darius just went for it, Tom’s head drooping as he moved back to stand by Nina.
“Glitter never leaves. It haunts you forever, like taxes or ghosts,” Sadie said, grimacing while forcing down another drink.
“You don’t have to finish that,” Hunter said.
“This? Oh no, this was twenty dollars. You are very mistaken. I absolutely do have to finish it.”
Darius moved up to the next vendor, huffing and puffing.
“Here we go,” Sadie muttered.
“Ethically sourced alpaca wool? What does that mean exactly?” Darius wasn’t yelling at the vendor, but his voice was raised enough for Hunter to hear everything he was saying clearly. “Did the alpaca get a say?”
Sadie ran up and pushed him back, his hands dropping the smock he held up. “Darius, we talked about this. No activism at the holiday market.”
Sadie, always caring too much.
“I’m just saying.” Darius turned toward her. “Last year's protest got us a lot of attention.”
Hunter chuckled at the memory. “You mean when you chained yourself to the Christmas tree displayed at the town square? That tree had already been cut, Darius.”
“It’s about the message. That tree was not sustainably harvested,” Darius said, bending the now empty plastic cup in his hand. They were all getting a little flustered by the alcohol in their blood.
Hunter just needed to keep moving forward, towards where he knew Olivia to be last. They had been apart for too long.
“You know, Darius, you and Olivia might actually get along,” Hunter said, gently pushing Darius along.
“Oh really? She’s into activism, too?”
“Not exactly, but she’s really into trees.”
“Guys! Guys! Gingerbread house contest, right now!” Nina yelled, grabbing Tom by the hand and running through a group of teenagers who were very much judging her enthusiasm.
Hunter tried to look over the cluster of heads and bouncing Santa hats, searching for a glimpse of shiny black hair that might catch the moonlight—or, under this tent, the harsh glow of Christmas lights strung too bright and too low. Sadie nudged him firmly, steering him toward the larger open tent to his left. Inside, rows of tables were covered with candy bowls and cookie pieces, and volunteers in bright red Santa hats offered forced, tired smiles to the crowd.
“Nina, the last time you turned this into a contest, you nearly filed for divorce over a sandcastle,” Tom said. He ducked slightly under a sagging string of plastic mistletoe that brushed his hair.
“For someone so sweet and small, she is oddly competitive,” Darius added. He stood just behind Tom, arms crossed, his winter coat streaked with powdered sugar from who knew what.
Nina ignored them both and dropped into the nearest seat. She grabbed a stack of hard gingerbread panels as if she planned to build a real house, not a candy version destined to collapse. “You refused to commit to the turret, Tom. Do not rewrite history.”
Sadie laughed and rested her elbow on Hunter’s shoulder. “Should we be worried? Is your marriage at the mercy of gingerbread and icing this year?”
Tom shot her a flat look, then turned to Hunter. “If you could just make something truly terrible, I would owe you. It might save me from a long car ride full of gloating.”
Hunter forced a grin, though his mind drifted to the tent entrance. He could not help searching for Olivia. Somewhere out there, Celia and Elaine were probably trying to keep her calm or distracted. He should have been beside her, not stuck pretending he could joke about Christmas like everyone else.
“Don’t drag me into your domestic warfare,” Hunter said, hoping his voice did not sound as strained as he felt.
Sadie pushed away from him and pointed a finger at Nina. “I am going to build a gingerbread mansion. It will be art. It will be iconic.”
