Epilogue
EPILOGUE
Lacie
I’d been right—the Harper’s Inn Event Center was the perfect location for a wedding.
Burlap and lace were draped along the center of a meadow in the middle of towering trees to create an aisle right in the middle of the forest.
Chairs with white fabric tied across the backs lined either side. And we’d married at sunset, with the orange blaze accentuating the forest’s rustic beauty.
In preparation for the reception, more burlap draped along the Event Center’s ceiling now.
My wedding gown was exquisite. I felt elegant, like a princess in my own kingdom, and I couldn’t have been happier with the way the décor—the glass jars circled by lace and burlap, the white lilies and baby’s breath in those jars—adorned as many surfaces as possible.
My stomach hadn’t stopped flurrying at the memory of Jared’s face when I’d appeared at the mouth of the aisle. The possessive light in his eyes, the way the rest of the world had faded and blurred—it had been all I could do to walk instead of run to his side.
But walk I did. I’d passed off my bouquet to Mom and Dad had placed my hands in Jared’s.
I’d lost myself in his gaze, in the vows, in the promise of his kiss sealing us as husband and wife.
We were now, officially, well and truly, Jared and Lacie Kingston.
Husband and wife.
And I had the ring on my finger to prove it.
No time warp. No snowmen or magic radios. No confusion or rushed emotions. This was real.
The pictures that had been on Jared’s and my social media feed during our Christmas debacle with the snowman-sanctioned marriage hadn’t been photoshopped or posed as I would have at one time wished them to be. They’d been candid shots and somehow seemed better for it.
Today, on our actual wedding day, I made sure to snatch pictures just like the ones I’d gotten so lost in. I also hired a photographer to seize the ones we would frame and hang in our home back in Texas.
I’d gotten the best of both worlds.
Jared stood near a set of stairs in the Event Center, talking with his mom and his sister. Their dad had even come, and I’d been gratified to see Jared offer his hand when Mr. Kingston arrived.
As I watched my new husband, it felt like I was standing on the precipice of something I couldn’t name. He looked so handsome in his tux, with the boutonniere pinned into his pocket. With his dark hair tumbling into his eyes.
I couldn’t wait to get my fingers in that hair. To have those eyes looking at me and only me.
“What do you think?” Junie asked, a knowing smile on her face as she approached.
She looked beautiful in a soft beige, chiffon dress with a flowing skirt and a V-neck that rendered the cheerful receptionist curvier than I would have guessed. Junie also wore makeup, something I hadn’t seen her do during our stay six months ago.
“About what, exactly?” I asked.
Junie examined the room with a sense of pride. “Whatever you’d like. The wedding. The Event Center. The way things turned out. You two actually ended up married.”
My smile was dizzy with happiness. “We did, didn’t we? That means you remember, too, don’t you? The radio?”
Junie let out a little squeal and took my hand. “Are you kidding? How can I forget? Married by a snowman.”
“Technically,” I said.
I was grateful for the confirmation. Sometimes when I reflected on what had happened, I worried it had been a ruse or some kind of imagination.
Having Junie and Jared affirm things helped me to feel less crazy.
“Married by Pastor Heathrow,” I corrected.
“Take your pick,” Junie said. “Either way, I’m so happy for you.”
Despite her words, her smile faded. It made me wonder what caused the light in her eyes to dim.
Junie cast her glance around the reception hall with a look of sheer longing. Of loss—as though she’d been close to her own happiness, and it had slipped right from her grasp.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Hmm?” Junie perked right up again, plastering on her usual smile. “Of course!” she said, too brightly. “Your guests will be arriving any minute. Better make sure everything is in order.”
And she bustled off toward the back of the hall.
That was right, it was nearly seven. I scanned the room for the sign of a clock, only to have my heart lose a few beats.
Because my new husband was coming toward me.
Jared was a smash in his suit. The cut of his shoulders was enough to undo me. Once more, my fingers itched to touch him. It was almost torture to expect newlyweds to have to greet people after the ceremony when all we really wanted was to be alone.
“Hey,” he said. “Everything in order? Have you counted the napkins?”
“Twice,” I said with a smile. “I haven’t been counting the minutes, though. Guests will be arriving soon, and we’d better get in our places.”
“You, not counting the minutes?” He pressed a hand to my forehead. “Are you feeling well?”
“I’m feeling the best I ever have.”
His hand hooked around my back and drew me to him. My mouth magnetically found its way right to his. The kiss was short and sweet.
“Glad to hear it,” he said. “And we have seven minutes left in case you were wondering.”
“Why, thank you.” Another kiss, this one lasting longer than was probably appropriate for public company.
“That took three at least,” he said, eyes glinting.
“What are we going to do with the other four?”
“I have a few ideas.”
I giggled and turned as Mason Devries approached. He was a good-looking man with thick, dark hair and long eyelashes that somehow only accentuated his appearance. A few inches shorter than Jared, he looked hard at work in his white chef’s jacket.
“I hope everything turned out as you hoped it would,” Mason said.
I’d dealt with several caterers throughout my career, but Mason was one of the best. He was easy to work with, accommodating all of my nitpickiness just the way a good caterer should.
Silver vats offering chicken and steaming pasta awaited on the table. A man wearing a white coat like Mason’s stood behind the table, ready to slice guests’ preference of prime rib.
One table was tiered with multiple layers, each laden with bundles of cauliflower, and bunches of colorful peppers, broccoli, radishes, and cherry tomatoes, all arranged in a gorgeous, mouthwatering display of color.
Fresh fruit and cubed cheese were displayed on white plates with black, curved stands that pitted each plate at a different height and added aesthetic.
“Beautiful. Just as I hoped for. You’ve done an immaculate job with the food,” I said.
I considered bringing in my associate, Penny, from Fort Worth for the job, but Junie had insisted I couldn’t do better than Mason Devries—and she’d been right.
“My pleasure,” Mason said, wiping his hands on his white apron. “Weddings are one of my favorite things to cater for.”
“Do you do other catering?” I asked.
At that moment, with her hands clasped in front of her, Junie meandered toward the dessert table as if inspecting the mouthwatering options on display. Eclairs, individual servings of cheesecake, and cookies for the less fashionable option.
Junie adjusted the little chalkboard stand announcing each dessert. The fading sunlight pooling through the window behind her gave her an angelic backlight, accentuating just how good she looked in her dress.
Mason apparently noticed the same thing. His attention strayed to Junie as well, and based on the color flushing up his neck and his lack of response, he hadn’t heard my question.
Jared and I exchanged bemused looks. He lifted his brow as if to say, Mason likes Junie in a singsong, childish kind of way.
Interesting.
I nibbled my lower lip, my thoughts rambling faster than falling downhill. Junie had implied the radio had played for others at the inn. Had she been referring to herself?
If I had to bet on it, I would bank all of my earnings that something was going on between those two.
Our four minutes came and went. Guests began filtering through the door, the sounds of cars approaching ambling in through the open doors with them. Mason moved in Junie’s direction, and I let the issue slide, finding Jared’s hand instead.
“Ready to greet our guests?”
“With you? I’m ready for anything.” He leaned in to kiss me again, and I knew that no matter what happened next, Jared Kingston was someone I’d always be able to count on.
* * *
Junie
Six Months Later
I sat at my desk, but instead of going over the year-end sales totals like I should have, my gaze drifted past my monitor to the window.
Snow blanketed the mountainside, glittering in the afternoon sunlight, begging me to come outside and play. Begging me to be anywhere but here.
The smell of freshly baked bread wafted from the direction of the kitchen, making me think of Mason—something I did far too often.
Something I kicked myself for every time.
I’d always loved where I lived. Where I worked. But lately, having to see Mason every single day, having him ignore me every single day, the reminders of what had happened between us drove in a little deeper.
Like a puncture vine in my shoe, pricking my foot with every step.
But what could I do? I didn’t want to leave the only home I’d ever known.
Did I?
A knock sounded on my door, making me jump in my seat. I swiveled in time to say, “Come in,” before the knob turned.
“Hey, Junie,” Grace said, popping her head into the office.
Boone followed shortly afterward. The two of them were both adorable and disgusting at once, but at least Grace had helped pull Boone from his slump.
He smiled now. Like he used to.
“What’s up?” I asked, stepping away from the desk, grateful for the interruption.
I’d always begrudged Boone for hating the Christmas holiday as much as he had, but now that things had been completely ruined with Mason—after we BOTH heard the radio play, people—my obsession with my favorite holiday was quickly fading.
And I hated that. It wasn’t Christmas’s fault that the radio had stopped playing.
Was it?
“We found something,” Grace said, tying her brown hair over one shoulder only to release it again. “While we were putting up our Christmas tree. And we wanted to show you.”
Boone rifled something from within the pocket of his red flannel jacket.
“This was in the branches,” he said. “It just like, appeared there after we cut the tree down ourselves and brought it into the cottage.”
He eyed me because he knew exactly what I was thinking—we’d been around the radio too long now to not believe that crazy things could happen.
Unexplainable things.
Things no one else would believe unless they saw them happen themselves.
Without another word, he passed the piece of parchment to me. I read it.
December 24 th.
She says I should share the joy we’ve found, and I think I have a way to do it. I wasn’t sure it was possible, but the radio is proving to handle my experiment well.
Music brought us together. Why can’t it bring others together, too? Music is the key to everything. I’ve imbued the radio with my magic so that others can know.
What they don’t yet know is that there is a greater secret—a secret that must only be revealed when the time is right.
Shivers dusted right down the center of my spine. I shuddered, waiting for them to pass.
“No way,” I said, placing the journal entry next to my keyboard. This entry pricked my memory, reminding me of something I’d nearly forgotten.
They weren’t the only ones to have shown me a journal entry like this.
“You remember Lacie and Jared Kingston?” I said.
“The snowman couple?” Grace asked, looking first at Boone and then me.
“Yeah. Last year, they found something like this, too. They said it was attached to a reindeer, of all things.”
I rifled through my desk drawer and laid it out on top of the desk next to the journal entry Grace and Boone had brought.
Grace tilted her head down, her brown hair sweeping over her arm as she bent for a closer look. “What do you think they mean?”
I considered. “I don’t know. I can’t figure out why they’re showing up now. Unless…”
“Unless?” Boone prodded when I didn’t finish.
I lifted my face to meet their gazes.
“That radio hasn’t played for over a hundred years,” I said, working through my thoughts out loud. “There has to be a reason why it is now. A reason Santa is sending us these. It’s like they’re clues or something, and they’re leading us to something he wants us to find.”
Boone scraped a hand over his jaw. “Strange. But I’m not na?ve enough to ignore these,” he said.
“If Santa’s leaving us clues, then we should follow them,” Grace said.
“I agree,” I said.
“Maybe there’s more,” Grace said. “Maybe…”
Boone rested his hand on his hip. He bent to examine the journal entries as well, though he didn’t look at them for quite as long as Grace did.
“Didn’t you say the radio played for you and Mason?” he said as he stepped back.
“Shh.” I peered behind him, worried someone was close enough to overhear. Fortunately, the hall appeared to be empty.
Even so, I closed the door for good measure and stepped back to where they stood.
“What’s wrong?” Grace asked, brows bunched together.
“Nothing came of it,” I said with a sad exhale, and the admission cracked something in my ribs.
The radio had played. And then it had stopped. And Mason ignored me almost every day like nothing had happened.
“Not yet,” Boone said.
I closed my eyes, willing the pain away. “Don’t do that, Boonie. Don’t get my hopes up.”
I was done with hope—as I should have been years ago.
“Why not?” His voice grew more adamant. “You forced me to see things I didn’t want to. Look where we are now. Grace is expecting our first baby.”
He gestured with pride to his wife.
Standing in front of the door I’d closed, Grace grinned and placed her hands on her stomach, nodding exuberantly. “It’s true. The baby is due in July.”
A squeal tore from my throat. I gaped at the two of them, waiting for them to deny it, but neither did. In fact, Boone was beaming at his wife like she was the reason for the sunrise.
I was so happy for him. For them.
“Oh, my goodness! This is the best news! Congratulations!”
I hurried and pulled Grace into a hug. She squeezed me back so tightly.
“Thanks, Junie,” she said.
I stepped away, returning to my desk. And as truly excited as I was, I jabbed my finger in each of their directions, taking things back to my level.
“But that still doesn’t mean anything will happen with Mason. Not again.”
Not when he would barely look in my direction.
Grace’s face crumpled into a worried pout, like she felt bad but didn’t know what to say.
I couldn’t blame her. I didn’t know what to say, either.
Every time I saw him, I didn’t know what to say.
Because the truth was, Santa was not reliable. He’d given Grace and Boone and Lacie and Jared journal entries? Why did they get one, and Mason and I didn’t?
It was the Christmas letter I’d written to Santa as a child all over again. I’d left it for him in my stocking—and he’d totally left it behind .
I had to face it. I was ignored.
“Don’t give up hope just yet, June Bug,” Boone said, threading his arm around my shoulder and pulling me in for a side hug as if he knew exactly what I was thinking.
But it was too late for that. My gaze drifted to my desk, and I stared at the journal entries.
Two journal entries. For two couples who’d heard the radio play.
Did Santa have an entry to share with me and Mason, too?
I kicked that thought across the tracks. If anything had been meant to happen between Mason and me, it would have by now. It’d been a year.
We’d had our chance. Santa didn’t have his radio play for someone twice.
The End…For Now
See what Junie and Mason make of these strange journal entries and if they’re able to renew their romance in Merry Rekindled Hearts , book three in A Santa’s Radio Christmas Romance series by Catelyn Meadows!