Page 55 of Holly and Ivar
***
Holly
Holly arrived at the carnival just as the church bells rang noon.The town square had been transformed with strings of lights draped from lamppost to lamppost, and garland wound around every post.
“I’ve never seen it look so good,” one woman said, making Holly smile.She may have popped by on her broom last night and given it a little Santa zhuzhing.
She scanned the crowd, searching for Ivar.Children darted past with candy canes and Santa hats, the air alive with laughter and the squeak of snow boots.On the main stage, the mayor stood proudly beside Rowan and Chad Hale, both in matching red sashes that read CARNIVAL GRAND MARSHAL in glittering gold letters.
Liv had outdone herself.
She sensed him before she saw him, as if he were a planet coming into her orbit.
“Sorry, I’m late,” Ivar said, brushing past her, snowflakes melting in his hair.“These two—” he nodded toward Liv’s boys, “said they’d be ready in five minutes, but their version of five minutes is twenty in real time.”
Wyatt grinned, tugging his hat lower.“Hey, I couldn’t find my favorite sweater.We’re gonna get hot chocolate, okay, Uncle Ivar?Mom gave us money.”
“Sure,” Ivar said.“Meet me back here in an hour.”
“Okay!”The boys took off through the crowd, laughter trailing behind them.
Holly smirked.“He likes a girl.”
Ivar blinked.“What?”
“Wyatt.That’s why he needed the sweater.”She gestured toward the cocoa stand, where two girls about Wyatt’s age were giggling behind paper cups, their cheeks pink from the cold.
“Oh,” Ivar said, realization dawning.“I didn’t know Santa knew that kind of thing, too.”
“It’s not magic, Ivar.It’s observation.Sometimes you just need to pay attention,” Holly said with a small smile.
“Like with my binoculars.”
“Exactly.”
“Except that your father…”
She shrugged and linked her arm through his.“Sometimes it is magic.”
The mayor stepped up to the microphone, tapping it once until the feedback squealed across the square.“Welcome, everyone, to Winterwood’s Annual Christmas Carnival!”
The crowd cheered.
Holly leaned toward Ivar.“He sounds like he’s been practicing in the mirror all week.”
“Probably has,” Ivar murmured.
The mayor continued, voice booming: “This year, we are especially honored to have as our Grand Marshals the new stewards of the Hale property—Rowan and Chad Hale!”
Polite applause rippled through the crowd.Rowan beamed, waving to the audience.Chad, on the other hand, looked as comfortable as a man enduring a dentist appointment for a reality TV show.His smile was tight, his eyes already scanning for an escape route.
Holly’s heart tightened.The tension was almost tangible, and the cheer of the crowd balanced on the edge of politeness, not warmth.The plan had begun, but this wasn’t how she’d pictured it.Everyone was polite, but not welcoming.
We need joy, she thought.Belonging.Fun.
Without thinking, she reached for Ivar’s hand.His fingers curled instinctively around hers.Then she didn’t think, didn’t try; she simply wished.
The air seemed to hush and soften.The lights strung along the eaves flickered once before glowing brighter.A child’s laughter rang out, bright and clear as sleigh bells.And then, from somewhere near the cocoa stand, came the sharpwhumpof a snowball hitting its mark.
