Page 31 of Mistletoe Sky
“I got here at four,” Amelie said, gesturing toward the kitchen. “I forgot how arduous it was. So many steps! I felt like Mom and Dad were watching behind my back, making sure I didn’t make any mistakes. I can’t believe how much fudge I ended up with.”
“You’re a natural,” Willa said.
The Christmas music through the speaker continued, this time with that Mariah Carey song that people couldn’t get enough of.
“What are your feelings about Christmas?” Willa asked.
Amelie sighed. “Complicated.”
“Same.” Willa let her shoulders droop. “I feel like I got tricked into coming here.”
“I’m sure you could leave at any time,” Amelie said. “You can always leave. Make an excuse. Get out.” She sounded ragged and strange.
But Willa shook her head. “Now that I’m here, I don’t know how to pull myself away.”
She realized it wasn’t really about the commercials anymore; although she’d, of course, film them, she’d do what she came here to do. Steve and the others were on their way.
Suddenly, the door burst open, bringing not a tourist but someone else: Pascal, the Frenchman who owned the bed-and-breakfast across the way. His cheeks were ruddy, and he moved like liquid, sweeping through the fudge shop.
“It’s marvelous to be back here again!” he said, beaming first at Amelie, then at Willa. He turned his head from left to right, then back again. “I can see it.”
“See what?” Amelie asked, blushing in a way that suggested she liked this guy. Willa could sense it.
“I can see the difference between you,” Pascal said. “It’s subtle, but it’s there. Anyone who can’t tell who is who isn’t paying attention.”
Amelie laughed, glancing at Willa. “We always were told we were identical.”
“Almost identical,” Pascal corrected.
Pascal wanted fudge and a lot of it. “I’ve been working myself all morning,” he said. “I’ve missed my helper!” He was referring to Amelie, who’d been working for her room and food. “I thinkI’d like some chocolate-peanut butter, regular peanut butter, and lotus. Oh, and maple!” He rubbed his palms together. “I’ve been struggling since the shop closed down. Where should I get my sugar fix if not from here?”
Willa realized that Pascal must know the Caraway family rather well, given how often he’d come into the shop. Did that mean Pascal knew what was going on with their father?
She got her answer a few minutes later.
“I must confess,” Pascal said, eating another piece of fudge, “I didn’t come here only for fudge.”
“Oh yeah?” Amelie lent him a crooked smile. “What else can we do for you?”
“You both can join me tonight,” Pascal said.
“Another jazz fest?” Amelie asked.
Pascal shook his head. “We’re taking the night off from music. We deserve it. But I’ve been told to bring the Caraway ladies up the hill for dinner. I’ve been told not to take no for an answer. What do you say to that?”
Willa and Amelie turned to look at one another, suddenly panicked. They knew precisely what up the hill for dinner meant. More than that, they knew that to get out of it meant avoiding the biggest problem at hand. They had to find the strength to face it at some point. Perhaps it was best to face it together.
“All right, Pascal,” Amelie said, her voice shaking. “Let us close up here, and we’ll go together.”
Pascal clapped his hands joyously. “It’s going to be a wonderful night!”
Chapter Sixteen
Amelie
December 2025
It was five fifteen when Amelie and Willa sold their last slab of fudge and began to clean up for the night. Pascal had long since returned to the bed-and-breakfast to get ready for dinner, leaving Willa and Amelie in a state of confusion and fatigue. They were worried about the upcoming meal “up the hill” and took extra care with each piece of equipment, eager to spend as much time cleaning as possible. This contrasted with their childhood and teenage years, when they’d often rush through fudge shop cleaning tasks to hang out with friends.
