15
“H ere, listen to this,” Eleanor said to Vivian. She pressed play on her answering machine.
“Hello, Eleanor, this is Sadie. Don't panic. Everything is fine with the centerpiece. I'm actually calling to invite you over for Thanksgiving dinner. You probably have plans already, but if not, we're having a big dinner here and would love to have you. Okay. Let me know.”
“Well, isn't that something,” Vivian said.
“What should I do?” asked Eleanor. When Vivian was in town and not spending Thanksgiving in Fairbanks with her daughter, Eleanor usually had dinner there. Otherwise, she would help at the local hospital, making dinner for staff and patients who couldn't spend the holiday with family.
“You should go,” Vivian said.
“I'm not sure. What about the hospital?”
Vivian dismissed her concern with a wave. “Help with prep, then head over to the Kringle’s' house for dinner.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“It can be if you let it.”
Eleanor had her doubts.
“Thanksgiving is about community and giving thanks, which is what you do at the hospital, but it's also about friendships, old and new.”
“Other than you, I prefer my own company,” Eleanor insisted.
“Come on, Eleanor,” Vivian said. “You don't prefer it. You've merely created a self-imposed exile. Just look at how much happier you've been since working on the ballroom dance competition and putting yourself out there. And my goodness, El, read between the lines. They're inviting you because Christopher will be there.”
“Do you think so?” Eleanor couldn't help but smile at the thought of having dinner with Christopher.
“Absolutely, but even if he's not, go have fun. When was the last time you let yourself enjoy something without reservation?”
“I think it was in the nineties,” Eleanor joked, but sadly, it was close to the truth. Or at least it was until recently. Ballroom dancing reminded her of times when joy wasn't a stranger. But also, in the mix, were fresh memories from dancing in the woods and catching a fish with Christopher.
Vivian glared at her, awaiting an answer.
“Fine,” she acquiesced. “I'll go.”
***
Eleanor stepped onto Sadie and Martin's porch. Hesitation nipped at her resolve, but the soft glow of lights and the rustic nature of the log cabin drew her in. The rich aroma of roasting turkey and pumpkin spice enveloped her senses as she tapped the door knocker twice before it swung open fully.
“Welcome, Eleanor.” Sadie greeted her with a smile, pulling her into a hug that was surprisingly nice. The house's interior glowed with amber lights, and garlands of autumn leaves intertwined with twinkling fairy lights ran down the banister and over the fireplace.
“Thank you for having me,” Eleanor replied, her voice steadier than she felt as she handed over the bottle of wine she'd brought.
“Come in, come in,” Martin boomed from the living room, his grin infectious as he waved her over. “What can I get you to drink? Rosie made mulled wine, and we have soda, water, and beer.”
“The mulled wine sounds lovely,” Eleanor said, standing in the middle of the room like a fish out of water.
“Come sit by the fire with me,” Nora said. Eleanor gave her a smile, grateful to the girl for offering her a seat.
“A girl at school said you're going to teach ballroom dancing at the community center. I've always wanted to learn, so count me in,” Nora said.
“That's not exactly what I said. But maybe one day.”
Laughing at one of Jack's jokes, Rosie caught Eleanor's eye. Rosie tugged Jack over to join Nora and Eleanor. Jack tipped an imaginary hat in Eleanor's direction. “Glad you could make it, Eleanor,” he said.
Eleanor inwardly cringed from all the times she'd been rude to Jack. The man never seemed to take anything seriously, but she'd been wrong. He'd worked tirelessly to help Rosie create a massive moving candy sculpture for Valentine’s Day. It was the talk of the town, make that the county. She didn't deserve Jack's kindness, yet there it was.
“I was happy about the invitation,” Eleanor admitted, the words no doubt surprising Jack, but he hid it well.
The festive atmosphere was settling into Eleanor's bones when the front door opened, and she heard Christopher's voice, causing her heart to flutter. He entered the room wearing a red sweater, and with his white beard and perfectly Santaesque hair. Eleanor turned to Nora and said, “Please tell me he works as a mall Santa during the holidays. That level of similarity should not be wasted.”
Nora grinned, nodding her head. “Something like that.”
“Ah! I see I'm the last to arrive. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.” Christopher's booming voice enveloped the room, his positivity infectious.
He hugged his family members and then walked towards Eleanor, who stood. “Happy Thanksgiving, Christopher,” she said. Surely, her voice didn't waiver. Did it?
“And to you, I'm happy to see you here.” Then he moved forward and brushed her cheek with the lightest of kisses. Yet it had her heart racing and her cheeks flushing.
The Kringle family’s banter was light and included the kind of gentle teasing that happens within close-knit families. The conversation included Eleanor. She was asked about Mistletoe in the old days, what it was like before she left for Seattle, and how she found it when she returned. The longer she was there, the more relaxed she became and the more she shared about her past.
When Martin announced that dinner was ready, fate or perhaps a conspiratorial Sadie seated her and Christopher together, their elbows brushing as they settled at the elaborately set table.
“Tell me, Eleanor, do you still follow the ballroom competition circuit?” Martin inquired, his interest genuine as he carved into the turkey.
“Only casually,” Eleanor said. “But this ballroom dance competition has rekindled my interest.”
“I'm happy to hear it,” Christopher said. “There's something almost magical about dance, isn't there?”
“Indeed, there is,” Eleanor agreed, "When dancers master the precision of each step, they lay the groundwork for artistry. A couple moving with both technical skill and chemistry can cast a spell on their audience."
As plates were cleared and laughter echoed around them, Eleanor realized the evening had brought forth an unexpected harmony between her old life and the potential for new beginnings. And much of it was thanks to the man beside her, whose very essence whispered promises of enchantment in the most ordinary moments.
***
The clink of cutlery had given way to the shuffle of feet as the group migrated from the dining room to the coziness of the living room, where the fire crackled merrily in the hearth. Martin rummaged through a wooden chest and pulled out an assortment of board games.
“Let's play charades,” he declared, and the suggestion was met with an enthusiastic chorus of approval.
Except for Eleanor. “I don't think so,” she said. “You all play. I can be the timer.”
“Nonsense,” said Christopher. “My guess is that you have quite the competitive streak. So how about it? We'll be partners but prepare yourself. I take my charades very seriously.”
“Very well then. And you're right, I don't like to lose,” Eleanor said, her mouth tilting upwards in a smile, her hesitation vanishing.
With each round, Eleanor became more engaged, her stern facade melting away in the embrace of companionship. Christopher was an exuberant performer, gesturing wildly, his eyes sparkling. Eleanor laughed openly like a schoolgirl with each silly guess and triumphant point scored.
“An ice-skating Santa?” she gasped between laughs when Christopher mimed a wobbly pirouette, nearly toppling over in his zeal. But as she called out her answer, she noticed a tenseness in the room. Did she say something wrong?
“Close. A reindeer learning to ice skate,” Christopher corrected, and the room erupted with laughter, much to Eleanor's relief. She must have imagined it. Maybe she’d had too much mulled wine.
The jovial nature of the entire Kringle family was infectious, and she was grateful for the chance to see a side of life she'd long neglected—one that included the simple pleasure of shared amusement.
The evening grew late. Rosie and Jack donned their coats and bid their goodbyes. Wind howled against the windows, and Eleanor dreaded driving home.
“Let me take you,” Christopher offered as if reading her mind. He stood beside her, so much like Santa Claus in his red sweater. “Sadie or Martin can drop your car off in the morning.”
“Thank you, that would be lovely,” Eleanor accepted.
They stepped outside, and Christopher whistled for his horse-drawn sleigh.
“You're kidding, right? We'll be blown over the side. Surely my car is better than that.”
“Nonsense. See the tall sides on this one? This is my foul-weather sleigh. We'll be fine.”
Eleanor climbed into the sleigh, surprised that Christopher was right. They were very much protected from the wind. It was as if they were in some kind of bubble.
“That was a delightful evening,” Eleanor said as they pulled away from Martin's cabin. “I haven't played games like that in a long time.”
“It was fun, wasn't it?” Christopher said, the wind in the trees providing a backdrop to their conversation. “We will have to do it again sometime. I'm not a bad cook myself.”
“Is that so?” Eleanor mused, and then a thought struck her. “You know, I have no idea where you live. Until recently, you've barely been in town. Are you in another town close by or a recluse mountain man who has finally decided to spend more time in civilization?”
She’d expected him to laugh. Instead, he tensed slightly. How odd.
“Oh, I'm not too far, but far enough that coming into town takes a bit of planning. I live in a location more central to several of my grandchildren, all who run one of our toy workshops.”
“And they all live in the area?”
“As the crow flies, it's not too bad,” Christopher said.
Eleanor still had questions, but as they turned the corner into town, she gasped. Her attention now directed toward a town blanketed in darkness. “Oh no,” she said. “Not the entire town.”
“It's not complete darkness,” Christopher noted. “I can see sporadic light from some houses.”
“Yes, well, most of us have backup generators for such an event, as I'm sure you do too. But what does this mean for the competition? It's in two days.” They passed the Kringle toy workshop. All the lights were on. “Looks like your family has a good backup system.”
“We do,” Christopher said.” We are on a separate power grid.”
“What's your secret?” Eleanor asked jokingly while checking the weather on her phone app. She sighed. “Please tell me you’ll share your secret because it looks like the wind is here for a while.” Her head dropped into her hands. “This is a disaster. I knew the weather this time of year was too unpredictable. Even if we use generators, the tents can't withstand the wind. We're going to have to cancel.” She swallowed back tears.
Christopher placed a hand on her knee. “I think—”
“Don't say it,” Eleanor instructed. “What I don't need right now are platitudes.”
“That's not what I was going to say.” He stopped the sleigh and turned to her. “I think I can help. We Kringles are a resourceful bunch. We have a few tricks up our sleeves.”
“How?” Eleanor asked.
“Trust me,” Christopher said.
She stared at him for what felt like minutes. Eleanor could cancel the event or put her trust in a man she’d only known for weeks. That was a heck of a choice. Christopher, for his part, said nothing, simply giving her time to decide, his expression open and sincere.
Eleanor decided to take a leap of faith.