Page 18 of Christmas With My Mountain Man Landlord
"The tree lighting? No." I adjust my glasses. "He said he's working. As usual, I guess."
Savannah nods, disappointment briefly shadowing her features. "Sixteen years of the same excuse. You'd think I'd stop hoping."
"He has his reasons," I say softly, remembering the pain that flickers across Tom's face whenever Christmas is mentioned.
"I know." She sighs. "But sometimes I wish he could see past his own hurt to realize what he's missing. What we're both missing by not sharing these moments."
I squeeze her hand, feeling a surge of affection for this young woman who's welcomed me so warmly. "Maybe someday."
"Maybe." She brightens, determination replacing melancholy. "But tonight is about fun. Colt's meeting us there, and you're going to experience your first Whisper Vale tree lighting extravaganza."
An hour later, we're walking toward town, bundled against the cold. I'm wearing my heaviest coat, plus a borrowed scarf and hat from Savannah that actually match, unlike my hastily packed winter gear. The streets are already crowded with people heading toward the town square, excitement buzzing in the air.
"This is amazing," I breathe, taking in the transformation. Every storefront glitters with lights, wreaths adorning eachdoor, lampposts wrapped in garland and red ribbon. "It's like stepping into a holiday movie."
"Wait until you see the square," Savannah says, linking her arm through mine. "Dad always said Mom was the Christmas enthusiast, but honestly, I think the town goes all out partly to draw him back in. Like if they make it magical enough, he'll finally participate again."
Her insight into the town's relationship with its sheriff touches me deeply. They care about him, these people. They want him to heal, to rejoin their celebrations.
The square comes into view, and I gasp audibly. A massive pine tree stands in the center, already strung with thousands of unlit bulbs. Booths circle the perimeter selling hot chocolate, cookies, and handcrafted ornaments. Children dart between adults, faces bright with anticipation. A small stage has been set up where a choir practices carols.
"Sav!" A deep voice calls out. Colt appears from the crowd, tall and imposing in a black leather jacket, his handsome face breaking into a smile that transforms his intimidating appearance.
He kisses Savannah with obvious affection before turning to me. "You must be Kelsie. Heard a lot about you."
"All good things, I hope." I shake his offered hand, noting the calluses that speak of manual labor.
"Very good." His eyes twinkle mischievously. "Especially how you've managed to survive five days in my father in law’s fortress of solitude without being evicted."
"Colt," Savannah chides, though she's smiling.
"Just saying, it's impressive." He wraps an arm around his wife. "The man barely let me in the driveway when we started dating."
"He's been very accommodating," I say diplomatically, though warmth rises to my cheeks remembering our almost moment in the kitchen last night.
"Hot chocolate?" Colt offers, already guiding us toward a booth with a steaming cauldron.
We collect our drinks and wander through the festivities. Everywhere I turn, someone greets Savannah and Colt, inevitably turning curious eyes to me. The introductions follow a pattern: Savannah introduces me as "Kelsie, staying at Dad's house," which invariably produces raised eyebrows and speculative glances.
"Is it always this busy?" I ask, sipping my cocoa as we find a spot near the stage.
"Every year," Savannah confirms. "The whole town turns out. It's tradition."
"Except for your dad," Colt adds, earning an elbow in the ribs from his wife.
"He has his reasons," she says, echoing my earlier words.
I scan the crowd, unable to help looking for Tom's tall figure among the gathered townspeople. The sheriff's absence is clearly noted by others too. I overhear snippets of conversation.
"Sheriff working again?"
"Sixteen years, you'd think he'd move past it."
"Poor Savannah, another Christmas without him."
The mayor takes the stage, officially welcoming everyone to the annual tree lighting. Children from the elementary school perform a song, followed by the high school choir. Through it all, I’m half listening, distracted by thoughts of Tom alone at the station while the entire town celebrates.
"Almost time," Savannah whispers excitedly as the mayor returns to the microphone. "They'll count down from ten, then plug it in."
