23. Maureen
Chapter twenty-three
Maureen
T he Holiday Hoopla looked exactly the way I remembered. Six blocks along Main Street had been closed to traffic with every light pole and mailbox lit up along the way. There were booths and games. Cider, hot chocolate, and treats for sale. A candy cane–patterned tent for the children’s coloring contest. Kitschy homemade items on display. Even though the aesthetics were slightly different—crocheted tablet covers for sale instead of potholders—the charm remained intact.
The city’s official holiday tree stood proudly in the center of it all. I remembered gazing up at it as a small child. The giant star on top was the same one they’d used since my mom was a little girl. Music could be heard from all directions, with bands set up on either side of the main event area and roving groups of carolers throughout. I glanced over at the churro cart and had a momentary flash of memory—my father and I sharing the hot, sugary treat as I bounced on his shoulders.
There was a different sort of joy in attending the Hoopla as an adult, appreciating the innocence and tradition of it all.
Not to mention how happy I was to have Will by my side. Watching him experience the Hoopla for the first time was almost as gratifying as my nostalgia.
It had been an interesting four days since we’d shared that toe-curling make-out session on the couch. We hadn’t talked yet about what should come next for us, and we hadn’t kissed again. But something had changed. There were stolen brushes of his fingertips along my arm in the kitchen and lingering glances in the hallway as we said good night. Even now, he walked alongside me with his body pressed close, occasionally settling his hand on my back.
We’d both been eager to spend time together outside Marley and James’s house. As Will improved, their home felt claustrophobic. I’d spent the past few days blushing whenever I sat on the couch, remembering that kiss.
Besides getting some fresh air with Will, my other goal tonight was to film material for Fashion Vibes .
I kept lifting my phone to hit record . Whatever this footage became, I knew it wouldn’t be my usual fashion-centric content.
It would probably be like Katy’s video, which had garnered more views and comments in three days than any other on my channel. Much as I’d suspected, people connected with her story, not just her relatability but also her optimism. Other than a few creepy comments from guys offering to pick up where her husband left off—Katy’s awesome response had been, “the Internet’s gonna Internet”—no one blinked an eye at the tone shift in my content, so it was clear shaking things up and following my instincts had been the right call.
I waved to old friends as I passed by, stopping to speak to a few and introduce Will. We slowly made our way toward Marley and James, working their shift at the high school booth.
As we walked, Will had me laughing with fun stories about his Christmases growing up. Apparently, his parents loved to celebrate but filled their home with breakable decorations. What he remembered most from being a young child was getting to pop the green bubble wrap his mom handed him as she unboxed the expensive baubles. He also recalled one of the Wallingford Capital office parties he’d attended in middle school, where he’d watched in shock as his straitlaced parents got tipsy and performed a karaoke rendition of “Baby, It’s Cold Outside.”
It really was too bad Will didn’t feel like he could be honest with his mom and dad about this latest concussion. Their family dynamic seemed to have evolved into him hiding large parts of himself from them while they mistrusted his decision-making out of habit. But clearly, there was love on both sides.
“You know,” he said, “it’s nice being able to talk about those memories.” He reached out his gloved hand and squeezed mine. “But I’m also glad to be here making new ones.” He waved his other arm around at the lights and ribbons decorating the streetlamps. “This is definitely a Christmas I’ll remember.”
“Hopefully for something other than falling on the ice.”
“Hopefully for more than that.” He laughed and held my hand tighter.
His second CT scan had been clear, the doctor okaying him to come to the carnival. He’d been moving around on his own with only a few very minor dizzy spells the past few days.
That meant Will needed to get back to reality soon. Reality being Seattle. Yesterday, we decided I would drive both of us back in his car since a long solo drive was a no-go for him so soon after his fall. The plan was for me to come back with Leo and Miranda in time for Christmas.
I’d agreed to those logistics with a very specific motivation no one else knew yet. It was the reason I was fine leaving my car at Marley’s house and being in Seattle for the next ten days.
I wanted to talk to Bren and tie up loose ends in the city because I’d decided to move back to Coleman Creek. Permanently.
Will and I rolled up to the high school booth. It was the biggest, comprised of several tables in two large U-formations. Different games benefited various student clubs and the athletic boosters, along with baked goods and holiday craft sales to support the PTSA.
James sat behind the section for the school clubs. He’d talked my ear off over Thanksgiving about how much he loved being the faculty adviser for the gamer groups.
Marley stood admonishing one of the teens handling the nearby student council table. His badge said Senior Class Vice President in graffiti-like font.
“Fel, you need to redo it. You’re lucky I’m giving you another chance instead of just failing you outright.”
“Ah, c’mon, Ms. Davis. It’s an English class. We’re supposed to express ourselves. And I was expressing exactly how I feel about this time of year.”
Marley released an exasperated breath. “Fel, there are limits in my classroom. And one of them is you don’t put an expletive in the title of your essay. Not unless you want a big red F.”
“Alright, alright. What if I called it ‘The Boy Who Gave Zero Ducks About Christmas’?”
I cleared my throat as Marley’s eyes widened, and James intervened. “That’s enough, Fel.” He directed a meaningful look at the teen, fighting a smile himself. “Do better.”
The boy gave James a playful shrug before nodding.
As Will, James, and Marley chatted about which bake sale items looked the best, I strained to eavesdrop on the conversation at the student council table. That kid—Fel—sat with his friends, complaining about the carnival. They threw out words in derisive tones. Lame. Corny. Boring . Most stared at their phones, oblivious to the booth-goers.
They didn’t understand yet. But they would. Someday.
Behind another table, a blond-haired teen looked at the ground while playing Christmas songs on an acoustic guitar. Vaguely, I recalled him from the talent show the year prior.
Will and I stood and listened.
“That’s Daniel,” Marley whispered to us. “James says he sees a lot of himself in him.” She gave us a meaningful glance, which I interpreted to mean Daniel had been bullied. “This year has been much better, though.”
James paused whatever he’d been doing as an older couple arrived at the booth. “Mr. Bailey!”
The white-haired gentleman of the pair frowned at James’s effusive waving. “Now, now, Mr. Wymack. There’s no need to kick up a fuss.”
“We didn’t know you were coming,” Marley said, beaming at the couple.
“Well, I wanted to bring my bride here, where I spent so many years.” At this, the man brought his companion forward to shake James’s and Marley’s hands. “This is Ellen. My love, this is Ms. Davis and Mr. Wymack.”
After they said hello, James turned to introduce me and Will to the couple. “This is Fred Bailey and his wife Ellen. Fred’s the teacher who retired so I could have a permanent place at the school.”
“That’s not exactly true,” Mr. Bailey corrected. “I took an early retirement so I could spend my golden years with the love of my life, who I’d been foolishly apart from for far too long. Helping Mr. Wymack was merely a byproduct of that decision.”
James looked at the older man fondly. “Of course. That’s exactly how it happened.”
“Though I am slightly concerned about what’s become of the students in my absence,” Mr. Bailey continued. “I overheard two of them heatedly discussing ‘bags of beans’ and ‘sovereign glue.’ I swear the kids will never stop coming up with ridiculous code words for drugs.” He said it with a straight face, but there was a twinkle in his eye.
“Must be kids from the D&D Club.” Will chortled.
“That’s right.” James grinned. “Don’t let Mr. Bailey fool you into thinking he’s old and stodgy. He’s sent us postcards from three continents in the past year, plus pictures hiking in Japan and ziplining in Costa Rica.”
“The ocean was lovely there,” Ellen said wistfully. “So blue.”
“My Ellen was the most beautiful woman on the beach,” Mr. Bailey asserted. “For now, we are in town through the holidays, and we’ll be back in the summer for your wedding.”
“Good,” Marley said. “If it didn’t work with your schedule, we’d have had to cancel the whole thing.”
Mr. Bailey’s lip twitched.
I pulled out my phone and asked the older couple to do a quick interview about their travels and being in Coleman Creek for the holidays. Then I did a few Q&As with folks nearby. The sound quality would be terrible, but I’d learned some tricks over the years. I also had a mic attachment, which helped. If worse came to worst, I could always use subtitles.
Mr. Bailey and his wife talked about wishing they hadn’t waited so long to be together. Daniel didn’t want to talk on camera, but he let me film him playing the guitar while he tried not to glare. Fel and the other student council kids gleefully told me how they couldn’t wait to leave Coleman Creek after graduation. But they also spoke excitedly about the upcoming holiday talent show—agreeing no one could top last year, when Mr. Wymack declared his love for Ms. Davis—and they were eager to check out the rest of the carnival once their shift ended.
As Will and I walked away to explore some of the other booths, I held on to him with one arm while keeping my phone ready to capture more footage.
“I remember feeling exactly like Fel and his friends,” I said. “Thinking all this small-town stuff was dumb and wanting nothing more than to get out. Living here these past few months has really put that all in perspective.”
“You do seem to love it.” Will gazed around thoughtfully. “Although, to be fair, when we spent that night together in Seattle, you seemed at home there, too. You were in your element at Musicbox, and from everything you’ve said, you fit in at Kolya’s.”
“Fair. But it’s like we talked about the other day. With personas. It’s not that I don’t like the city. It’s that I have to work harder there. In Coleman Creek, I never feel like I’m putting on a show. I’m just me.”
“Will you be okay when you go back to Seattle? Or is that even still the plan?”
I loved that his question allowed for the possibility I might not return to Seattle—Will seemed to be the only person in my life who didn’t take it as a given. I needed to tell him I’d decided to move back home, but this wasn’t the time or the place for that discussion. Bren ought to be the first person I told, considering that, until a few months ago, I’d lived with her for a decade. Besides that, I wanted a few more days to sit with the decision solo, to conquer the small part of me which still viewed returning to Coleman Creek as an admission of defeat.
I replied with a partial answer.
“This whole time I’ve been thinking crashing with Marley was a stopover for me, a chance to regroup. But maybe what I need is to start over entirely, not just reset. I have a life in Seattle. All my business contacts are there. I have friends, including a best friend I’m used to seeing every day. Leaving all that would be huge.”
“I understand. When I left my family company and founded Yardhouse, I realized almost immediately I hadn’t gone far enough. Staying in the finance world had been safe, but it wasn’t where I wanted to be.”
“Do you think your future is in renovating apartment buildings?”
He shook his head. “No. I’m not sure I’d do it again, even though I loved the process. I don’t know what’s next, but I enjoy managing the apartments better than anything I’ve done before.”
Will laced our fingers together and sighed contentedly. That’s when I noticed Kasen twenty feet away, walking alone.
“Kasen—Hey!” I called out.
He glanced over, and I saw the I’m trying to figure a way out of this, but I can’t expression pass over his face before he waved back.
I knew Marley worried about her ex, worried she’d hurt him deeply when he’d asked to get back together last year, and she’d told him about James. I hoped Kasen could see everything had worked out for the best.
But I guessed knowing that didn’t automatically make things easier. And Kasen had been like family to me for the eight years he’d dated my sister. I wanted good things for him.
“Hi, Maureen.” Kasen offered me a stilted hug.
“Let me introduce you to Will. He’s a friend of James’s.”
The two men shook hands, and Will’s expression revealed he knew exactly who Kasen was. It made sense that James had told his friend about Marley’s former long-term boyfriend.
“Hey, man,” Will said.
They dropped their arms. Not knowing how else to fill the ensuing silence, I asked Kasen, “How have you been? Still doing the graphic design thing?”
“Yeah. It’s been going pretty good, I guess.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I’m glad I struck out on my own a few years ago.”
“Nothing like being your own boss,” Will piped in. “No worries about having to work for a dipshit.”
Kasen’s posture relaxed a bit in the face of Will’s easy charm. “Amen.”
A second later, something pushed hard against me, and I got shoved into Will from the side.
“What the—” I looked down to find a tiny, three-year-old human tornado hugging my lower leg.
Katy appeared a few seconds later, calling out as she ran after her daughter, “Rosie! For Pete’s sake. Can you please, for all that is good in this world, take it easy!”
Turning to me with an apologetic glance, Katy hoisted her son Braxton onto her hip. “I am so sorry, Maureen. I promised her a hot chocolate, and she assumed that meant we were getting hot chocolate right this instant and raced off.”
“No harm done,” I assured her.
She kneeled in front of her daughter. “Please apologize to Maureen.”
Rosie looked at me and back at Katy. Her face screwed up. I braced myself.
“I…don’t…wanna!” the little girl wailed, shaking her head aggressively, loosening her pigtails. “Can’t make me!”
I realized how necessary the jeans and flannel button-downs truly were to Katy’s sanity. She looked ready to keel over. Even with her parents and the whole town supporting her, single parenthood was still a struggle.
Just when it appeared Katy might join her daughter in a crying jag, Kasen reached out to pull the boy from her side.
“Come on, little man,” he said gently, clearly familiar with the toddler. “How about we go look at the pretty tree while your mom gets things sorted with your sister?”
Braxton stuck three fingers in his mouth and extended his other arm eagerly toward Kasen.
“That was nice of him,” I said.
“Yeah,” Katy agreed, running a soothing hand along Rosie’s back as the girl sobbed into her chest. “Kasen’s been coming into The Landslide a lot lately, and I’ve had to bring the kids in for my shifts when no one can take them. He always invites them over to color at his table, or sometimes he’ll read to them. Last week, he taught Rosie how to play tic-tac-toe.”
“He comes in alone?” I asked, looking over at where Kasen had lifted Braxton onto his shoulders to get a closer look at the decorations. Will stood near them, offering Katy and me some privacy.
“Sometimes he’s with his parents. Occasionally, a friend. I don’t want to make it sound pathetic or anything. He’s not the only bachelor in town who prefers the cooking at The Landslide.”
“Good point.”
“And I’ll take all the help I can get.” Katy exhaled heavily.
After a few minutes, Rosie calmed down, and the men found their way back to us. Will pulled off his gloves and shook them.
“What happened?” I asked.
“I grabbed the post by the tree before I realized it was soaking wet.” He sniffed. “Luckily, it appears to be spilled cider and not something more…questionable.”
Braxton giggled as Will crossed his eyes.
“Katy, do you want me to walk with you and the kids to the hot chocolate booth?” Kasen asked. “I’m supposed to meet my mom and dad there anyway.”
“That would be a lifesaver. Thanks.”
Suddenly, Rosie looked up from her mother’s shoulder and asked Will in a groggy voice, “Does it hurt?”
Will wore a huh expression for a moment until he registered the little girl peering at his hand.
“Rosie!” Katy’s face reddened, but Will quickly offered reassurance.
“It’s alright.” He held out his scarred palm to Rosie. “It doesn’t hurt anymore. See?” He ran the fingers of his left hand roughly over the right, poking and prodding at the raised tissue. “I had an accident a long time ago, but it’s all better now, even though my hand looks a little different from most people’s.” He made a fist before flexing and stretching his fingers. “It’s okay if you want to touch it. Sometimes it’s less scary that way.”
I doubted many three-year-olds would take him up on that offer, but Rosie was a baller. She reached out and traced the lines across his palm with her stubby pointer. Then she pushed against the stump of his pinky. Not to be outdone, Braxton wiggled for Kasen to lean him over so he could run his tiny finger over Will’s as well.
“This is okay,” Rosie declared. “It doesn’t look very nice, but it’s okay.”
Will nodded seriously. “That’s what I tell myself.”
Satisfied, Rosie turned to me. “Sorry I pushed.”
“It’s alright. I know you were excited and didn’t mean to. It makes me feel better you said sorry, though.”
“Come on, baby.” Katy seemed shocked by Rosie’s apology. “Let’s go get the hot chocolate.”
“With Sen?”
“Yeah. I’m coming,” Kasen said with a smile.
Once they were out of earshot, I patted Will’s shoulder. “That was impressive.”
“Meh. I’ve gotten used to people staring. And kids are always no BS, aren’t they?”
“They absolutely are.” I laughed, thinking of the pieces in my jewelry box Connor and Scarlett had called hideous . “C’mon. We should go check out the other vendor booths. Grab a peppermint cream donut. I remember them being amazing. You probably shouldn’t do the Ferris wheel with your concussion, but I’d like to get some footage of it for b-roll.”
We turned to walk in the other direction and ran into Marley and James, their volunteer shift complete. Marley caught sight of Kasen, Katy, and the kids drinking hot chocolate and looked from them to me and back again, raising her eyebrows.
“Don’t get any ideas,” I mouthed.
She shrugged and smiled.