CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
By Thursday afternoon, the day before the festival kicks off, it was all hands on deck.
Hannah Leigh was juggling more Christmas chaos than cocoa mugs to be sold at the Christmas Craft Market.
Cookie contest entries doubled overnight, the drooping garland was demanding an immediate fixing, and a choir director losing her voice had her knee-deep in merry mayhem.
The Hometown Holiday Festival was barreling toward them faster than Santa on a caffeine buzz, and Aunt Winnie was in her element. Clipboards, duct tape, and pure determination. She’d turn this town into a winter wonderland if it meant gluing the garland on herself.
The countdown was ticking, and the day was flying by. It would be a miracle if they finished everything by morning.
Hannah Leigh needed a break, so she slipped out the back door of the Chamber of Commerce. She headed straight to the coffee shop even though her conscience was thumping louder than reindeer hooves on a rooftop which was giving her a headache.
Inside Bringleton’s, roasted espresso and vanilla comforted her. She spotted Nate at a corner table, sipping hot cocoa and flipping through a book.
Is it being back in South Hill, or spending time with Nate, that feels so good about this visit?
The thought hung there for a heartbeat. She took in a breath and walked over, pretty sure Nate was the answer. “How are you doing?”
“Good,” Nate said, clearing his things from the table across from him. “Join me.”
But just as Hannah Leigh pulled the chair out, her phone buzzed.
WINNIE: Mayor’s tree lighting dry-run in 15 minutes. Need you there ASAP.
“That would’ve been so nice.” She groaned. “I can’t.” She flipped her phone around so he could see the message. “I’ve been summoned.”
“Sorry.” Nate looked disappointed. “Maybe we can get together later. Dinner?”
“I’ll text you. Before this, my day was packed, but somehow this little temporary assignment keeps growing.
“You’re already waist high in this thing,” he teased. “No turning back now.”
She pushed her hair behind her ear. “It might drown me before it’s all said and done.”
“Hope not, and you’ve got to eat. Keep me on speed dial. And here, take this.” Nate pressed a small, red-wrapped box into her hand. “For later.”
The little gift took her by surprise. “What did you do?”
“Just a little something. I was thinking about you and how busy you’ve been. Go on. They are waiting on you.”
“Yeah. Thanks.” She spun and rushed toward the door. Before she reached the tree-lighting area, she took a moment to open the little box. A Bringleton’s gift card and a paper ornament that read,
For when the day runs long, and the town runs wild.
Your cocoa is on me.
Conversation optional, but I’m hoping for both.
—Nate
She hugged the card before tucking it into her coat pocket. The sweet gesture made it impossible to hide her excitement. He like-likes me. Like really likes me. She couldn’t stop smiling if she tried.
And with that, the rush to help with the tree lighting dry run didn’t seem as bad. In fact, she didn’t even dread dealing with the grumpy mayor.
By the time Hannah Leigh reached the square, the half-strung garland and ladders leaning every which way in the middle of decorating the jumbo Christmas tree looked nothing less than chaotic.
Aunt Winnie stood at the center of it all like a five-foot-tall field marshal, clipboard in one hand, cocoa in the other.
“Places, people!” she called. “Christmas Craft Market is the opener for South Hill Hometown Holiday Festival, and this tree needs to shine like it’s guiding shepherds tomorrow night. ”
Hannah Leigh jogged up, breath puffing white. “How’s it going?”
“Depends on who you ask,” Winnie said. “Here comes South Hill’s notoriously grumpy mayor now. He’s the one who insisted on a dry run. It’s flipping a switch. He’s done it the last three years. Why does he need practice? It’s throwing my whole plan off.”
“It’ll be okay. Let’s just get through it and give him peace of mind,” she reassured her aunt. “I’ll handle it.”
The mayor stomped toward them, his scarf trailing behind him like a battle flag.
Mayor Clarence Collier stood near the base of the tree, clipboard in one hand, disapproval in the other.
“Winnie, this whole spectacle’s gotten out of hand,” he barked.
“Do we really need synchronized lights and a countdown? Folks just want to see the tree, drink their cocoa, and go home.”
Winnie smiled sweetly. “Clarence, the people of South Hill want wonder. And this year, they’re getting it, even if I have to staple it to the lampposts myself.”
He grumbled about budgets and power bills. “And the Enterprise is sending someone over? Last thing I need is another newspaper headline making me look like Santa’s disgruntled intern.”
From the risers, Margaret Jane looked up from a box of hymn books. “Then maybe try smiling, Clarence. Cameras like that.”
For a moment his scowl cracked, something warm flickering behind it, then he cleared his throat. “We’ll see.”
“Margaret Jane!” Winnie bustled over. “You’re an answer to prayer. Darlene lost her voice yelling at her grandkids, and we need an alto for the choir.”
Margaret Jane strolled up, scarf bright as holly berries, volunteering before anyone could stop her. “I’d love to help with the choir,” she said sweetly, earning a grunt from Clarence that might’ve been a yes.
But when Margaret Jane and the mayor’s eyes locked, she blanched.
“Are you okay?” Hannah Leigh reached to steady her. “You look like you might faint.”
“I might,” she whispered. “I swear I just went back in time to the first time he ever looked into my eyes like that.” She blinked twice slowly. “No, I’m okay. I can do this.”
“Perfect. Breathe, honey. Can’t have you falling out in the middle of a Christmas carol.” Winnie turned back to the crowd. “Join the choir in the gazebo. Rehearsal and then cookies and cocoa. Thank you so much. You’re saving the day.”
Margaret Jane practically jogged off to get to the choir.
“Saved the day? Aunt Winnie, you are putting entirely too much pressure on everyone. This is supposed to be fun.”
“It is fun. I’m making sure of it. And did you see the way Clarence and Margaret Jane looked at each other?
” She pulled a whistle from her pocket and gave it a two-toot coaches tweet, then hollered, “Volunteers? Get a vendor map over here, and enough crime scene tape to mark off your spots. Chop, chop.”
“Goodness gracious. Crime scene tape?” Hannah Leigh said.
“It was free. Can’t say no to free,” Aunt Winnie said. “Trust me. I’ve got this. This ain’t my first rodeo. Well, it would be my first rodeo, but it’s not my first Christmas event.”
“I get it. Okay, don’t let me interfere.” Hannah Leigh took a step back. Trying with all her might to stay out of it and keep her opinions to herself.
The volunteers scattered. Then Aunt Winnie walked over and whispered to Hannah Leigh, “Did you know once upon a time the mayor was so gaga over Margaret Jane that when she left town, he lost his joy, and his sense of humor right along with it. He wasn’t always this cranky, you know.”
“Aunt Winnie, did you arrange this tree lighting practice and being short one choir singer to force them into proximity?”
“Looks like Christmas magic to me?” Aunt Winnie tried to look innocent, but Hannah Leigh wasn’t buying it.
“The kind you pin to the lamp post yourself? Shame on you. Don’t you have enough on your plate without becoming South Hill’s Cupid on the Corner, too?”
“Cupid on the Corner? I like that. I might use that for Valentine’s Day.” Aunt Winnie scribbled a note on her clipboard. “It’ll be fine. Don’t you worry about me.”
“I’m worried more about the mayor and Margaret Jane than you at the moment.”
She swatted Hannah Leigh’s arm. “We’re family. You stop that. Believe me. Those two will thank me if I can get them to stop musing from a distance now that she’s back, and get on with falling in love for real.”
Hannah Leigh followed her gaze to where Clarence was pretending to fuss with the power cord, sneaking glances toward the music. “Maybe that is a possibility.”
Winnie’s smile had the type of warmth you can’t plug in. “Oh, honey, around here, Christmas has a way of mending things.”
I wonder if South Hill Christmas magic applies to visitors, too? A girl can dream.
At the top of the hour, Hannah Leigh guided the mayor through the tree-lighting cues and helped hang glittering stars from lampposts. Then, she double-checked the signage on the vendor spaces and the official Christmas Craft Market map.
At the last minute, a vendor from North Carolina had to back out because of a family emergency, leaving one empty booth. Aunt Winnie was going to have a fit over that.
Or maybe not. Did she even need to know? That’s when Hannah Leigh had the bright idea of leaving the space already assigned to them to use herself. She could make another Love Left Behind Board to set up in that space.
No one missed the South Hill Christmas Craft Market.
They sourced the best one-of-a-kind crafts, baked goods, and gift ideas around.
Plus, in yesterday’s meeting, they confirmed the senior center was offering a round-trip bus to and from the community center every hour.
That was the precise demographic that could help her solve this locket mystery.
Plus, projections for attendance at the South Hill Hometown Holiday Festival were about four times the usual. This was her best chance to uncover a lead.
After she completed everything on her to-do list, she returned to the Chamber of Commerce and raided the storage closet. Jackpot! An old classroom-sized bulletin board, velvet ribbon, and twinkle lights did the trick. Then she used the fancy plotter printer to create the sign.
Love Left Behind Board
Have a memory to mend? Share your lost love story here.
The next morning marked the start of South Hill’s Hometown Holiday Festival — Day One, the Christmas Craft Market — the official launch into two solid weeks of twinkle lights, cocoa stands, and small-town cheer that would carry straight through Christmas Day.
By evening, the tree lighting would flip the switch on the whole town, every storefront and lamppost glowing like a postcard.
It was a big day and just the first in the two-week frenzy of holiday cheer that Aunt Winnie was heading up. Hannah Leigh was caffeinated and ready.
She arrived early, bundled and hopeful, to set up her booth. She propped up the huge Love Left Behind board, smoothing its edges and whispering a silent prayer that folks would stop long enough to share a memory, a name, or maybe a clue.
Then, she picked up her radio, an ear mic, and updated clipboard at the Chamber office, and was ready to roll. Her job was helping Aunt Winnie make sure the only hitch in the day was the one pulling Santa down Main Street, tossing candy canes at noon.
Residents must’ve flocked to the secondary Love Left Behind board faster than to the kettle corn booth, pinning hand-written notes and anonymous confessions like snowflakes. Each was different. Some were funny; others wistful. But one made Hannah Leigh freeze in place.
He never showed.
I waited under the dogwood, red coat, white mittens.
Snow fell. So did my heart.
She stared at that one for a long time. The words pulling something deep inside her. An ache she knew too well. Hope giving way to disappointment. Promise turning quiet.
Nate came up behind her with a candy cane tucked behind his ear like he’d forgotten it was there. “What’s up?”
“I thought this board might tease out some ideas.” She nodded toward a note in shaky block print written in red marker. “But look at this letter. It matches everything Birdie said, but we know Ruthie didn’t write it.”
Nate’s brow furrowed as he leaned in to read it. “He never showed. Red coat, white mittens… it’s almost like the same story told twice.”
Nate pulled his phone from his pocket and snapped a photo.
“Now we’ve got it. Put it back on the board before Birdie accuses us of tampering with evidence.
” He slid the phone away, grinning. “Come on. You need a break from all this sleuthing. How about I win you a snow globe at the Snowball Toss booth?”
Her mouth curved. “Are you trying to woo me, Nate Collier?”
“Trying? I was hoping I already had a decent start.”
He took her hand, warm and steady, and led her toward the far side of the festival grounds where laughter and music filled the air. Children lined up to toss foam “snowballs” at painted targets, giggling when bells rang out from successful hits.
“While we’re waiting for me to impress you with my skills, I’ve been dying to talk to you about some things I found out about our Henry Bell.”
“What? When?”
“For a couple days now. Every time we tried to connect one of us was too busy. But here’s what I wanted to share.
I asked a friend to do some digging for me on Henry, and he found a few interesting things.
” Nate walked her through each of the findings from the newspaper articles, all the way to the police blotter notes.
“Oh my gosh! Do you think he died that night?”
“No. I searched the local obituaries for that time and didn’t come up with anything, but my friend is still trying to chase a couple of leads. I’ve got all the documents printed out. At least we can share that much with Ruthie.”
“This is great,” she said. “More than I could’ve hoped for.”
“No.” Nate gave her a nod and then stepped up to the snowball game, paid his ticket, and fired off three perfect throws in a row. “That’s what you call great.”
She jumped up and hugged him. “That is great.”
Nate held on to her an extra second until the attendant handed him a glittering snow globe with a miniature dogwood tree inside. Nate held it out like a trophy. “Told you I could win you one.”
She shook her head. “Show-off.”
“It’s for you,” he said, but as she reached for it, something over his shoulder made her pause. The smile faded from her lips.
“What is it?” he asked, turning slightly.
Hannah Leigh pointed back toward the courtyard. A few townspeople gathered around the Love Left Behind Board, whispering. Among them stood the mayor, arms crossed tight, frown etched deep as he stared at the notes.
Nate followed her gaze. “Are you looking at Uncle Clarence? Does he—”
“Yeah,” she whispered. “He looks like a man who just read something he wishes he hadn’t.”