Page 34 of The Holiday Clause
Here she was, alone again.
“If not for my sweet tooth, I’d skip this barbaric tradition,” Bodhi said over a mouthful of honey-roasted nuts. “Tree’s probably at least fifty years old.”
“Dad, don’t ruin their fun.”
He shook his head in disapproval and licked the sugar off his lips. “They could at least bring back the Yule log and get the most out of their kill.”
Wren rolled her eyes just as the crowd roared. The enormous tree glowed in a mixture of colorful lights. She felt sorry for the tree, but she still loved this part of their town’s traditions. If not for Hideaway Harbor’s relentless cheer this time of year, she’d most likely spend each December depressed and overwhelmed by memories of her mother.
The music turned up, and people returned to mingling about the square, where the local shops showcased their merchandise and tempted guests inside with delicious winter treats.
“I see Astrid over there.”
“Go ahead.” She waved at her aunt and urged Bodhi to go to her. “I’ll walk around for a while.”
Wren wandered through the crowd, not stopping at any of the stores, but enjoying the ambiance nonetheless until she lost her vision to a set of cold hands.
“Guess who?”
She stilled and caught his wrists. “Soren?” she teased, knowing perfectly well it was Logan.
“Brat.” He uncovered her eyes and tugged her braid, then tipped a paper cone in her face. “Nut?”
Warm cinnamon sugar wafted to her nose. “No thanks.”
“You sure? My nuts are delicious.”
She rolled her eyes. “What are you doing here?” Typically, the Hawthornes sat out the big holiday festivities.
Logan laughed. “I signed Soren up for thatRaiders of the Lost Heartthing Jocelyn’s running. He’s gonna murder me when he finds out.”
“Uh, yeah, he is.”
He snickered and popped a honey-roasted nut into his mouth. “Where’s Bodhi?”
“Off with Astrid.”
“You free for the night?”
“I’m his ride.”
“Oh. Bummer.” He pulled her toward a line for hot cider. “I guess we’ll just have to make the best of the Christmas cookies and chaos while I have you.”
Of all the Hawthornes, Logan seemed to process his mother’s absence the easiest. Maybe because he was the youngest and therefore got away with actually crying when he was sad, unlike his older brothers, who were encouraged to bottle up their grief and never let it show.
Townspeople bustled around the square as kids darted past in brightly colored hats and scarves. The playlist blasting from the speakers shifted to a less polished version of holiday music sung by the local choir, which was mostly comprised of holiday enthusiasts and longtime carolers.
Now that the speeches were over, Mayor Locke held court by the bonfire, probably retelling the time Larry theLobstah’sclaw short-circuited the whole harbor.
“How long are you sticking around?” she asked Logan as they moved up in line.
“Not long. Too many humans. You want to hang out after you drop Bodhi off at home?”
She raised a brow. “Depends what you’re offering.”
“We could watch one of those weird old Christmas movies you like. The ones where nothing happens, but everyone contemplates the meaning of snow and somehow the crooner’s the hero.”
She chuckled. “So basically every movie I’ve ever loved.”
