He, on the other hand, was definitely going to see a neurologist when he got back to Boston.

For the second time, she slipped free of his touch. “I—I’ll have to think about it,” she told the saleswoman.

“Don’t think too long,” the woman replied. “I sell out every year.”

“We’ll keep that in mind,” James replied. Noelle had already moved along.

“Sorry about that,” he said when he caught up. He noticed she’d stuffed both her hands deep into her coat pockets. “I didn’t realize she was going to make me smell your skin.”

“The lady was definitely working for the sale.”

“Vendors at these things always are.”

They were conveniently ignoring that James was not a man who people made do anything, as well as the fact he could have sampled the scent without brushing the tip of his nose across her skin. “I hope my comment didn’t stop you buying something.”

“Of course not. I know what I like and don’t like.”

“I’m sure you do,” he replied. In this case, as she’d twice demonstrated, she didn’t like sharing any more personal space with him than necessary.

Message received. Copying her, he stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Heineman’s Chocolatiers is straight ahead,” she said, nodding toward the red-and-white-striped stall fifty yards away. “Doesn’t look like there’s too much of a line either.”

Considering the crowds, that didn’t bode too well for the chocolate. One would think the greatest cocoa in the world would have lines a mile long.

A burly man with gray bushy hair peeping out from beneath a Santa hat waved to them as they approached. “There’s my Noelle! I wondered when I would see you!” Leaning over the table, he wrapped Noelle in a hug. His arms were so massive she nearly disappeared from view. “It’s good to see you, child. Merry Christmas!”

Noelle replied something that sounded like “Murry Chrfmaf!” before breaking free. “It’s good to see you too. I’ve been dreaming about your hot chocolate since last December.”

“You say that every year.”

“I mean it every year. You know it’s not Christmas until I have my Heineman’s Hot Chocolate fix.”

James got a twinge in his stomach. Noelle wore a smile brighter than anything he’d seen on her face. Brighter than anyone had ever smiled around him actually.

“This is James Hammond,” she said. “His company purchased the store.”

“I read in the paper that Belinda had retired and sold the business. I’m surprised she lasted as long as she did after Ned’s death. The store was always more his, and with Kevin gone...”

The man paused to wipe at a spot of dried chocolate with his hand. An impromptu moment of silence.

“I’m surprised she didn’t have you take over,” he said once the moment ended.

“I’m afraid I haven’t worked long enough to have the experience,” Noelle said. “I also didn’t have the kind of money Mr. Hammond put up.”

“I read that in the paper too. Nice to meet you, Mr. Hammond.”

“Same here,” James replied. “Noelle has been raving about your hot chocolate all day. She swears it has magical properties.”

“I didn’t say that,” Noelle shot back. “I said it tasted magical.”

“Auch! You and that man of yours were always saying that. Ever since you were in junior high.

“Did she tell you about her man?” he asked James.

“Some,” he replied.

The old man nodded. “Kevin Fryberg. Belinda’s son. Fine young man. A true hero.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Left a hole in the town when he died,” Mr. Heineman continued. “A huge hole. Can’t imagine how Belinda coped. Or this one.”

Noelle was looking down and fingering a tiny tear in the plastic tablecloth. Her cheeks had turned a darker shade of pink. “Mr. Heineman...”

But the vendor didn’t get her hint. “Did she tell you how he died?” James shook his head, eager to learn details his research couldn’t. “Truck rolled over and blew up while he was trying to pull one of his men free.”

A true hero, like the man said. Bet he was a great guy through and through. The kind of guy who was easy to fall for. “Pretty amazing,” James replied.

“The whole town loved him,” Mr. Heineman repeated. “Isn’t that so?”

Noelle, who still hadn’t said anything beyond his name, nodded. “Everyone,” she repeated softly.

“And this one... Joined at the hip, the two of them. Kevin Fryberg and the little Manger Baby. They made the perfect couple.”