CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The night of the annual tree lighting, the town square had never looked so fine.
Nate had spent every Christmas of his life in South Hill, but tonight felt different, like somebody had put a polish on the whole town.
Storefronts glowed. Bringleton’s chalkboard promised a real steal on Cocoa by the Tub for the big night.
And Harper’s Jewelry had strands of diamonds dripping like icicles inside their window so sparkly you couldn’t pass by without noticing.
Folks packed the lawn shoulder to shoulder, the buzz rolling toward the giant Christmas tree like a tide for the big moment.
He dropped the locket off at Harper’s Jewelry to get repaired, then went to catch up with Hannah Leigh. He found her near the steps of Town Hall with Aunt Winnie. His heart gave a familiar little leap every time he saw her.
Hannah Leigh’s green scarf shone bright against her coat, her hair catching the light cascading over her shoulder.
He started toward them, but their voices pulled him up short.
Aunt Winnie stood beside her, wrapped in a tartan cape that could’ve doubled as a Christmas banner.
He started toward them, but stopped when he caught the tone of their conversation.
“I just got the call,” Hannah Leigh said, breathless, amazed.
“I applied for that dream job in Charlotte before I came here, and they want me in Charlotte. In person.” She clapped her hands together, barely able to contain her excitement.
“It’s the position I’ve dreamed of. Managing corporate events.
Not a contract for a single project. A real seat at the table. ”
Aunt Winnie smiled, kind but guarded. “I’m proud of you, honey. But Charlotte? This place is brighter since you came home. A lot of people would miss you.”
The thought landed fast, like a kick to his ribs. I’d miss her.
“Aunt Winnie, you knew this was temporary.” Hannah Leigh’s voice softened. “I’ve worked hard for a chance like this. I have to see it through.”
Winnie said. “Don’t let chasing the next big thing make you forget what you’ve already caught.”
Hannah Leigh didn’t hesitate. “Right now, nothing matters as much as getting that job.”
The words hit Nate like a body check he didn’t see coming. He stepped back, letting a cluster of festival-goers drift between them. He didn’t want her to see his face.
On the bandstand, the mayor tested the mic. A squeal of feedback nicked the air, then settled. Nate shoved his hands into his coat pockets and walked along the edge of the crowd, trying to make the noise in his head quiet behind the night’s good cheer.
He’d warned himself not to get reckless.
Whatever this was with Hannah Leigh, spark, flirt, early-stage miracle of a love that might actually last forever…
maybe it belonged to December and fairy lights.
But when he heard her say, “nothing else matters as much”, he’d felt the floor shift.
Turns out he’d already stepped in deeper than he meant to.
He let the crowd move him closer to where the tree stood ready.
He focused on the tall evergreen. Fresh-cut, trucked in from two counties over, strung to the top, ornaments from every corner of town tucked into its boughs.
No lights would be lit until the big day.
At the very top sat an angel fashioned from lace and tinfoil, a tradition older than most of the folks gathered here tonight.
The crowd’s murmur tightened into a hush as the program started.
The mayor said a few words, as he always did, and then turned it over to Hannah Leigh. “Let’s bring up our festival lead,” the mayor said, voice warming. “Miss Hannah Leigh Parker.”
Applause lifted. She passed Nate and squeezed his sleeve. “I’m ready, cross your fingers!”
“You’ve got this,” he said, and felt the truth of it all the way down.
She reached the podium and didn’t need to tap the mic. She had them from the second she looked out across the crowd.
“Good evening, South Hill,” she said, voice steady.
Everyone cheered. He stared, feeling a little sick.
“When I came home in December, I thought I was just here to help with the festival.” A beat. “But this town has a way of reminding you who you are, who we are together.”
The square leaned closer. Nate did too.
She kept it simple, talking about the many hands that pitched in, recipes that showed up on the right porch at the right time, neighbors teaming up for the many contests.
“Don’t the lampposts look amazing?” She talked about Aunt Winnie’s pralines and the town’s connection to Minnie Pearl, even singing out a ‘How-dee!’ in her honor that received a round of applause.
When she cited Birdie’s “encouragement” of the choir, she got a bigger laugh.
Then Hannah Leigh’s tone softened, and something in the crowd did, too.
“This year we learned stories don’t disappear,” she said. “Sometimes they wait for the right person to listen or the right season to tell them.”
Nate’s gaze slid to the front row. Margaret Jane stood next to Birdie and Winnie, jaw steady, chin tilted up. Uncle Clarence, hard-nosed mayor to everyone else, watched from the side of the stage. For once his bluster was gone. He looked…human.
“And tonight,” Hannah Leigh said, “we remember real love doesn’t vanish. It might hide. It might be delayed. But it doesn’t quit on us.”
A sound like a half sigh and half yes, moved through the crowd. Somebody near Nate whispered amen.
“Mayor, would you like to come do the honors?” Hannah Leigh asked from the stage.
He lifted his chin, wearing a relaxed smile that Nate had never seen on him. “No, ma’am. I think you should get the honor this year. Please proceed.”
“Wow! Okay.” Hannah Leigh laid her hand on the brass lever. “Let’s start this countdown and light up South Hill and make it the best one yet.”
She began the countdown. “10…9…” and the crowd powered over the mic with the rest all the way to a long-winded one, and Hannah Leigh flipped the switch.
The tree came to life in a wash of colorful bulbs as the crowd erupted in cheers, whistles, and applause. Children shrieked with delight. Couples hugged close, but all Nate could hear was the heartbeat in his ears.
His gaze stayed fixed on Hannah Leigh, her face lit by the tree’s glow, her eyes wide, her lips parted in a smile so radiant he felt the warmth clear down to his boots. How can you even consider leaving me?
He slid a glance toward the mayor and caught something he’d never seen before.
Awe. Clarence’s attention had locked on Margaret Jane.
She didn’t look away. For a long breath, they stood in that light, two people who’d finally run out of distance.
Nate watched the years fall off his uncle. He stood straighter. Ready. Happy.
He didn’t trust himself to look at Hannah Leigh yet. He pushed forward through the crowd, the last of the applause fading into joyful noise.
She turned at his approach.
He braved a simple, “You did good,” he said.
“We did good,” she answered. “This has turned out better than I could’ve imagined.”
“Is there a ‘we’?” The words came out rough. Honest and unpolished, like a board he hadn’t sanded yet.
“What?” Her eyebrows drew together. “Where did that come from?”
“I overheard you with Winnie.” He kept his voice low. “Charlotte. The interview. The big move. I just…” He let out a breath. “I needed to know if what’s been happening between us is just December.”
Her mouth opened, then closed. She looked past him, toward the crowd, toward the tree that everyone was so excited about.
“Were you going to tell me?” He tried to make it a question, not an accusation.
“Yes,” she said, too fast. Then, quieter, “Eventually. It’s just an interview. I’ve worked toward this for years. I applied for that job before I even came here.”
“I get it.” He nodded, fumbled for solid ground. “I thought we were both looking forward to more. Here.”
“Oh.” Hope flickered across her face, then caution.
“You’ve been amazing, Nate. Our time together has been so great.
But I can’t build my whole life around something that happened over a couple weeks working on a Christmas festival.
This job is what I’ve always wanted. This is a tremendous opportunity for me. ”
“Then you should chase it,” he said, and wished he didn’t sound like a coach giving permission. “It makes sense.”
Behind them carolers eased into a round of Here Comes Santa Claus. He stepped back, giving her space, giving himself some, too.
“I just wish,” he said, almost to himself, “you’d looked at me once tonight the way you looked at that tree, like I was something you’d been waiting for.”
She flinched. “Nate—”
“Merry Christmas, Hannah Leigh.” The crowd shifted, and Nate moved with it into the steady stream heading away from the stage.
Past the cocoa line and the kids twirling under the strings of lights, Nate made his way to a quiet corner near the gazebo. For a man who avoided drama, his chest sure felt packed with it tonight.
Across the way, Margaret Jane spoke to the mayor.
Her face had softened into a warm look of affection.
Clarence’s posture had changed. He looked way less intense, more approachable.
He nodded at whatever she said, and for a second his eyes went bright.
Margaret Jane touched his arm, and Nate felt an old ache he hadn’t tagged until now: regret.
He understood how it happened. Two people think there’s all the time in the world. Then one harsh word, one foolish choice, a stretch of pride, and what should’ve been easy into a mess.
Don’t be them, he told himself. Then he rolled his eyes at the irony; five minutes ago, he’d been ready to sprint for the horizon.
This Christmas wasn’t just about lights on a tree. It was about a heart he hadn’t known was waiting. The girl he thought he’d let walk away a long time ago, and a future he couldn’t wait to unwrap. But it just slipped away.
He didn’t have answers. He cut away from the crowd and took the long way home, past Harper’s darkened display and the LOVE sign where some teenager tried to dip his girlfriend, failed, and they laughed.
Back at his place, he didn’t bother with lamps. He sat in the dark and let the quiet say what he couldn’t. The whistle Hannah Leigh had given him lay on the table, silver catching what little light sneaked through the blinds. He picked it up, turned it in his fingers, and set it down again.
“Guess that’s the truth about love,” he said to an empty room. “It waits until you stop running.”
He stared at the ceiling for a long while. Am I the one running now? The question sat with him, not pushy, not loud, just there.
Outside, the celebration continued until late. He pulled a blanket off the back of the couch and leaned his head against the cushion, eyes on the shadowed ceiling fan, heart finding a quiet, even beat.
Tonight had made one thing clear. That he wanted a future with Hannah Leigh in it.
If Charlotte was a door she had to walk through, he would not be the hinge that squeaked.
He’d let her go do the thing she’d spent years reaching for and trust that if they built something, it could stand up to a little distance.
Still, when he closed his eyes, he saw her at the podium, hand on the lever, voice sure. The tree had blazed because she had told it to. The town had answered because it believed her.
He hoped she’d look his way tomorrow with the same certainty.
For now, he sat in the quiet. And for the first time in a long time, he let himself want something he couldn’t fix with tools or plans. Something messy, human, and worth the risk.