Chapter 24
Helen tugged her scarf snug around her neck as she joined the crowd lining Main Street in Hopeton. The sky was overcast and the forecast called for more snow. The December air was sharp, the kind that made her cheeks ache and her breath come out in puffs of steam.
Overhead, strings of Christmas lights crisscrossed the street, faintly visible, while storefront windows glittered with wreaths, bows, and painted snowflakes.
A brass band marched past first playing Jingle Bells as people watched and sang along.
The Christmas floats decorated in different Christmas and winter scenes were loaded with people throwing candy to the kids in the crowd.
When they were not gathering candy off the sidewalk and street, the kids darted around, clutching candy canes, their laughter mingling with the squeal of the fire engine’s siren as it crept down the route, decked out in garland and tinsel.
Helen inhaled deeply despite the cold wind.
The parade carried a buffet of scents, like buttery kettle corn, roasted chestnuts, and the smoky sweetness of funnel cakes drifting from vendors along the sidewalk.
Somewhere, hot cocoa steamed, rich with chocolate and cinnamon, and she made a mental note to grab a cup before heading back to the bed and breakfast.
Just as the warmth of the holiday settled in her soul, she felt a flicker of unease.
She looked around. Her gaze landed across the street.
Near a lamppost wrapped in red ribbon, a figure stood apart from the crowd, head tilted.
For the briefest second, she could’ve sworn it was Mr. Sykes.
She blinked and a teenage boy in a hoodie stepped into the spot, waving to a friend. The moment of unease evaporated.
“Get a grip,” she murmured to herself. She focused her attention on a float shaped like a giant gingerbread house rolling by, people tossing candy to the crowd.
Her phone buzzed in her purse. She pulled it out and grimaced at another text from Carl.
May your Christmas dreams come true. ~ Carl
She had considered blocking him, but her attorney advised against it. He told her it was best not to block him and to keep all the texts as evidence in case she decided to get a restraining order against him.
With that in mind, she took a screenshot and sent it to her attorney for him to handle.
One thing she refused to do was answer his text. That was her hard boundary, and she was sticking to it.
“See, Helen. Now you’re growing a backbone,” she muttered to herself. Once the parade was over, she grabbed a hot chocolate before heading back to the bed and breakfast.