Page 46 of Grump Hard
I cock my head, considering. “I’ve never thought much about it, but now that you mention it…I can’t either.”
Ashton grins up at me. “Maybe the spiked hot chocolate will reveal their hidden truth. Let’s keep an eye on them.”
I return her smile. “Sounds like a plan.”
We join the carolers already milling around beneath the tree. There are around forty people from Silver Bell Falls, all bundled against the cold, chatting and laughing or gossiping about the gaudy decorations as Hattie, the mayor, passes out song sheets. I recognize several other faces from the gingerbread competition, as well, including Paulie, who gives me a friendly salute.
I wave back, just as Elliot and Nancy return with their cocoa, and a middle-aged woman in a Mrs. Claus sweater claps her hands for our attention.
“All right, everyone! Gather up,” she calls. “Welcome to the annual Reindeer Corners caroling caravan! We’ll be singing at six locations tonight, ending at the Reindeer Corners Inn before popping over to the church parking lot for snacks and hot chocolate. The booths are already set up, ready to reward us for a job well sung.” After holding a beat for chuckled acknowledgement of her pun, she adds, “I’m Monica, the choir director for First Methodist, and I’ll be your fearless leader. All I ask is that you have fun, sing out loud and proud, and stop when I make this motion.” She holds her hand up, fingers spread wide, before curling them into a tight fist with a flourish. “Got it?”
We all murmur our assent, and Hattie herds us into something resembling a line.
“Incredible,” Monica says. “We’ll start with carol one on page one. Now, let’s get out there and spread holiday cheer!”
The group erupts in enthusiastic hurrahs of agreement as we begin tromping down Main Street, launching into “Deck the Halls” at Monica’s direction with varying degrees of musical ability.
I do not sing—I wasn’t kidding when I told Holly musical ability isn’t one of my gifts—but I hum-mumble along. I humble, if you will, doing my part to add to the collective spirit without ruining anyone’s time with evidence of what “tone deaf” actually sounds like.
And it’s…good.
The cold air, the sound of voices rising together, the way the lights reflect off the snow as we wander from house to house, then business to business… Well, I don’t know that I’ll ever be a true holiday lover, but I’m not a Grinch anymore.
Thanks to Holly.
I pull out my phone, snapping a picture of Elliot, Nancy, and Ashton silhouetted against the light display in the window of the yarn and fiber store, where the local knitting club has gathered. I smile as I imagine what Holly will say when I send it later.
I expect she’ll be proud, and that I will not find that condescending or offensive, the way I would have even a week ago.
Falling in love really is a miraculous thing.
The Reindeer Corners Inn, our final stop, waits at the end of the street—gingerbread trim crisp, turret sugared with snow, big windows pouring light across the snow-covered lawn. Inside, the lobby is full. The guests are packed in tight beneath a soaring tree with cocoa in hand, the children craning for a better view as we approach.
We arrange ourselves in a wide semi-circle, song sheets rustling in the breeze as Monica counts us in.
Halfway through “Silent Night,” however, a flash of movement catches the corner of my eye. I glance to my right, toward a narrower pane of glass by a side door that I’m guessing leads to the guestrooms. The light is dimmer there than in the lobby, but still bright enough to make out the familiar brunette who steps into view.
It’s Holly, I realize with a start.
My first thought is that she finished her photo session early and swung by to catch the end of the caroling on her way home. Probably with her friend who works at the inn.
Then, I see him, the tall man, stepping up behind her.
He moves in close—very close—before bending to murmur in her ear.
She turns, tilting her face up to his as he continues to speak. His expression grows serious, almost anxious, as he takes both of her hands in his. Holly’s expression softens. She nods, murmuring something that apparently makes the worried man feel better.
So much better that he pulls her in for a fierce hug, cradling her against his chest like he never wants to let her go…
I know the feeling.
It’s a good feeling, unlike the “elevator in freefall to hell” sensation howling through my insides at the moment.
The carol continues around me—”all is calm, all is bright,”—but it’s a lie. Nothing is calm or bright. Heat floods my face, followed by a cold, sick feeling in my core that quickly starts to spread.
Of course.
Of course, there’s someone else.
