Page 19 of A Very Merry Mistake

“Want some of my pancakes?” I ask.

I didn’t expect him to do it, but he takes the utensil from my fingers, cuts a sliver, and then pops it in his mouth. He hands me back my fork.

“Mm. Forgot how good those were.”

“If I lived here, I might eat these every day.”

He laughs. “Nah, you’d work yourself down the menu. The banana puddin’ is great.”

As we hold a playful conversation, today doesn’t seem so bad. Being here with Jake is much better than sitting in an old inn. When I’m around him, he steals my attention and thoughts away. It’s just me and him in the moment, having dinner, talking about nothing. I’m not used to this.

“So whatcha think? You can be truthful.” Jake squishes his burger flat and takes another bite.

“It’s really good,” I tell him, covering my mouth, trying to remember my manners. “Best pancakes I think I’ve ever had. Might have to post this place on social media.”

“Welcome to the South. The secret ingredient is butter. But don’t tell nobody.”

This makes me snicker. “I believe it. But I’m not complaining.”

“You kids okay over there?” Glenda asks from behind the counter.

I nod, and so does Jake.

“Yes, ma’am. We’re doin’ real good.”

I’ve met plenty of people who stumble to kiss the ground I walk on, but that’s because they have to or want something from me. There was nothing genuine about it. So to experience being treated this way without reason is boggling my mind.

“Honestly, the food is why I don’t think I could ever move away from Merryville.”

“Never?” I ask, finding it hard to believe someone his age is already so…settled.

“Nope. Wouldn’t even consider it.” There is no hesitation or second-guessing in his answer. “I’ve got everything I need here. Occasionally I travel. Go on week-long hiking trips in the summer. Fish in the Rockies. Life here is slow, easy, and predictable. Until people like you show up.”

I pretend to act offended. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He sits back, a smirk playing on his perfectly plump lips, and picks up his coffee. Jake eyes me over the rim before taking a sip. “City folk. Those who come here searchin’ for something.”

His words cut deep, and I’m not sure why, because there is truth behind them. Truths he doesn’t know about. “And what are they searching for, exactly?”

He continues. “For what they’re missing in life. Love. Adventure. Holiday magic. Acceptance. But ultimately, I think the lost ones are lookin’ for a place to feel at home. And see, that’s the thing about Merryville. We’re one big family. The whole town is family run and owned. All small businesses. I think it says a lot about who we are and our culture here. It really brings to heart the small-town feel. It’s why it’s a national treasure, a place to be protected.”

“Did you know Merryville is the number-one grossing holiday small town in America?”

He nods. “Don’t use big words like gross and sums and all of that fancy business talk. Most of the people here do well. But it’s not like that for everyone.”

I study his face, just like I studied every fact about this town. Facts that seem to repeat in my mind. There are several books written about this place because it’s iconic.

Merryville was established in 1812 after Harry and Anita Merry decided they wanted to share their vision of Christmas with the world.

Three families founded the town. The Merrys. The Jollys. The Mistletoes. It became a haven for those with Christmas last names. The Gingerbreads and the Sleighs joined them six months later. Within the first decade, more people flocked to Merryville. The only ones who stuck around seemed to have a last name associated with the holiday. Some call that the Christmas Spirit and also why the town can’t be replicated. There have been copycats, but only few have survived.

Merryville’s small businesses’ gross income competes with larger cities like Amarillo due to the extreme tourism year-round. The residents are earning big-town money while keeping their small-town charm.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

I shake my head. “Sorry. I’ve got a lot on my mind. The day has felt like a blur, honestly. Just tired.”

“Totally understand. I’ll ask for the ticket so we can start headin’ back to my place. Looks like we might see a break in the weather in about ten minutes.”

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