Page 1 of Moonlight Over Mistletoe
1
Standingatthestreetcorner waiting to cross, Eleanor Frost turned her face up to the sun, enjoying the bright warmth after a few days of rain. The winters were long and dark in her corner of Alaska, so she never let the fleeting moments of sunshine pass without taking a moment to enjoy them. Not that it was winter yet, but soon. The days were getting notably shorter.
She crossed into the town square and shook her head at the large Christmas tree that dominated the center of town all year. It was bad enough that the town was named Mistletoe, but about fifteen months ago, it had become permanently Christmas-themed. As it was October, she had to look at a tree adorned with pumpkins and bats wearing tiny Santa hats. Goodness knew what November would bring. A tree covered with turkeys?
Carl would have loved it.She stopped abruptly, facing the tree, and shook the thought out of her head. Focusing on the past was a waste of time. But it was too late. Carl danced in her mind. Oh, how he loved Christmas. The decorations, the parties, the—
“You seem lost in thought.”
The words jolted Eleanor out of her reverie. She turned, slightly unsteady from being wrenched from her thoughts, her sharp tongue ready to lash out. But a kind smile and the apologetic eyes of Vivian, her long-time friend, greeted her.
“I’m so sorry if I startled you, Eleanor,” Vivian said.
“It’s fine,” Eleanor said more briskly than she’d intended. “I was merely staring at this tree covered in pumpkins. Have you ever seen such a sight?” A brisk wind caused Eleanor to pull her scarf more tightly around her neck.
Vivian linked her arm through Eleanor’s. “Come now. Let’s get into the cafe. Hot tea and a crackling fire will do us both some good.”
Eleanor nodded, and they walked across the town square to The Cozy Caribou Cafe. While this place didn’t tie itself to a Christmas theme like so many other businesses in town, The Cozy Caribou Cafe, or simply ‘The Caribou’ to locals, didn’t shy away from the Alaskan stereotype.
Still, Eleanor couldn’t help but feel welcomed by the cafe’s log cabin-style rustic exterior and the glow of Edison lights in the window. Once inside, the notes of cinnamon, nutmeg, and pumpkin spice enveloped them. And, while Eleanor couldn’t understand the current obsession with pumpkin spice everything this time of year, she found the aroma quite pleasant.
Two years ago, this cafe served its purpose, a relic of past decor and adequate food, but since the renovation and its unapologetic nod to Alaska, The Caribou had become a destination for locals and tourists alike. Rough-hewn timber covered the walls upon which the owners had hung vintage dog-sled equipment, old snowshoes, and large wildlife photographs by a local photographer. But in the center of it all stood Eleanor’s favorite new addition: a large, circular fireplace. It crackled and flickered and never ceased to improve her mood, something she needed after allowing thoughts of Carl to enter her mind.
“Look, our favorite table is opening up,” Vivian said, tilting her head towards a couple rising from two comfortable leather armchairs on the far side of the fireplace.
“Tourists,” Eleanor scoffed, noting the couple’s ugly Christmas sweaters.
“Now, Eleanor, be nice. We all know that the upswing in tourism saved Mistletoe,” Vivian gently chastised.
“I know, I know. Sometimes it’s a bit much, though.” She felt Vivian squeeze her arm before they took their seats.
Eleanor removed her scarf and hat and sank down into the soft leather. Vivian followed suit, shocking Eleanor when she removed her hat. She tried to find words, but her mouth hung open. Finally, she managed, “Viv, your hair.”
“What do you think?” Vivian asked.
“I’m literally speechless.” Eleanor stared at her friend. Vivian had had long hair since they’d met. Of course, it had been brown then and not the white it was now, but other than the natural evolution in color, Vivian had never, ever changed her hairstyle. Not even one time. It always hung to her waist, pin straight and parted in the middle. Now, it was a pixie cut.A pixie cut!But it framed her face beautifully by golly, allowing her stunning blue eyes to sparkle. “You look amazing. You really do.”
“Why, thank you. I’m still getting used to it, of course. It feels so strange to wash my hair. It’s like there’s nothing there. And seeing my reflection in the mirror is still quite the shock.”
“What made you do it?” Eleanor asked, still stunned by the transformation.
Vivian linked her fingers together and leaned across the table. “Honestly, something had to change. I’ve been stuck in a rut. Not that I’ve been unhappy, but I wouldn’t describe myself as happy either. It’s been the same thing day in and day out for years. My creative energy has waned, and I just kept waiting for a spark to come along and fire it up again. Then, as I looked in the mirror one day, I said,Vivian, change will not happen unless you make it so. And well, here we are.”
“Wow. But Viv, you never told me you were feeling so unsettled.”
Vivian shrugged. “Honestly, El, I didn’t really know how to express it. But now, I feel re-energized. I’ve got some new sweater designs percolating in my mind, and I love this haircut. It’s so darn easy, except that I’ll be spending a lot more money at the hairdressers than I used to, that’s for sure.” She sat back in her chair. “You know me, I’m not a big fan of change, but I realized that opening up to something new might be what I needed. I don’t know. After all, it’s only hair.”
Eleanor nodded. Yes, it was only hair, but Vivian’s hair was her signature look, part of her identity. How did one make such a bold decision? Especially at their age. Eleanor wasn’t sure she had the courage to do such a thing herself, but she would certainly support her best friend. “Well, to celebrate, coffee and pastry are on me. Your usual order, or are you trying something new too?”
Vivian laughed. “One step at a time, El. One step at a time.”
Eleanor stood and walked over to the counter. Behind her, she could hear the gasps of the local townsfolk as they took in Vivian’s new look. She set her purse on the polished pine live-edge counter. Max, the Caribou’s owner, approached her. It was Wednesday, which meant it was red-flannel day, and Max didn’t disappoint.
“What can I do for you, Eleanor? The usual for you and Vivian?”
“Of course,” she said.
“That’s quite the transformation for Vivian, isn’t it?” Max said as he retrieved two peppermint tea bags and dropped them into mugs.
