Page 68 of Mistletoe Season
The man, about the same height and build as Arran, studied him for a moment. Arran offered his hand, and with a slight hesitation, the man took it.
“Kevin Lindsey.”
“A pleasure to meet you, sir.”
The man’s brows crashed together. “You ain’t from these parts.”
“No, but I’m visiting family. My sister married Luke Edgewood—”
“You’re kin to Luke.” The man’s expression cleared, and he gave a single nod as if that were enough. Mr. Lindsey turned and gestured toward the chairs. “The girls is waiting for you.”
“Thank you, Kevin.” Charlotte smiled at him and led the way to the couch, nudging Arran toward the older of the two girls, though neither looked over seven.
“That’s Ginny,” Charlotte whispered before sitting beside the younger girl.
“And I’m Mary,” offered the elder, her wide eyes watching him closely as he took a seat near her.
“Hello, Mary. My name is Arran.”
Her eyes grew wider. “Are you sure that’s your true name, or are you joshin’ me?”
“Very true.” He pulled out his notebook and pen. “Is Mary your true name?”
“Nope. America is my whole name, but nobody calls me that ’cause it’s a mouthful.”
Arran grinned. “Well, I think both are fine names.”
They chatted a little about Mary’s school and friends, before Arran inquired after some of Mary’s favorite things. The color in the little girl’s face deepened, and she looked away. “Uncle Roe says my fancies is silly.”
“But if we’re going to find the perfect Christmas presents for you, we have to know what you like.” Arran leaned forward, lowering his voice. “Even the silly ones. Though I’d reckon it’s not as silly as you think.”
Mary studied him, as if weighing his trustworthiness. Coming to some conclusion, she leaned forward, matching her volume to his. “If you can, I’d like a purdy dress.”
“A pretty dress?”
She nodded. “Like a princess. And some nice shoes to go with it too.” She looked over her shoulder. “And I know y’all don’t get presents for the grown ’uns, but Daddy could do with some new work boots.”
Arran’s throat tightened at the tenderness of Mary’s request. “I think we can do that.”
Her grin spread to pinch into her cheeks. “You’ll wrap ’em in a box and everything?”
“I will, and I’ll even list you as the gift giver.” He winked. “What do you say?”
Her shoulders squeezed with her silent giggle. “That’s real good.”
“Now, about this princess dress.” Arran sobered his expression and raised his pen to the paper to communicate the importance ofhis question. “Do you have a certain color you’d like? Any ribbons for your hair? Or a crown?”
“A crown?” Her little mouth dropped open. “You reckon you could find one like Aurora has?”
“Aurora?” Was that one of her friends?
“FromSleeping Beauty,” Charlotte whispered to him, humor dancing in her eyes.
Sleeping Beauty?He raked his mind for a match. Was that the old cartoon Ellie used to watch, with the terrifying woman who wore black horns?
“She’s got a gold crown and a pink dress,” Mary clarified, before her smile spread wide again. “And she dances with Prince Phillip. He has a horse named Samson.”
Ah yes. And is there a dance in the forest?Arran’s brain reached back for a foggy memory.
