21
T he delicate ceramic ornament trembled in Eleanor's hands as she placed it on the display table, her sigh barely audible over the cheerful hubbub of the Mistletoe craft market.
“There,” Eleanor muttered, adjusting the ornament's position with a critical eye. “That should do it.”
Vivian glanced up from arranging a pile of hand-knitted scarves. “El, that's beautiful and so eye-catching. It will definitely draw people over to my booth.”
Eleanor's eyes darted around the market, taking in the festive decorations and jolly faces. People were walking around the stalls before the market had officially opened.
“So I talked to my daughter last night,” Vivian said. “They will arrive on the twenty-third. I thought, this year, why not have the turkey dinner on Christmas Eve? Then we can all relax on Christmas Day. It's going to be crazy now that her youngest is walking.”
“Sounds nice,” Eleanor said.
“And I was hoping you'd make the Christmas log. You know I'm not good at desserts. You're welcome to stay the night, too. I can set up a bed in my knitting room.”
Eleanor cleared her throat. “Actually, Viv, I've made a decision,” she said. “I'm going on a cruise for Christmas this year.”
Vivian's eyebrows shot up. “A cruise?”
Eleanor nodded, reaching into her purse and pulling out the brochure brimming with images of sun-drenched decks and tropical ports. It was about as far from Mistletoe, Alaska, as she could get, and that was precisely the point. She was managing her aching heart, but heck, if that didn't warrant a vacation in the sun, nothing did.
Vivian's eyes widened with surprise and curiosity as she flipped through the pages of the brochure. “Well, I'll be. That certainly does look amazing. Tell me more. What ports are you stopping in, and how long will you be gone?”
“It's two weeks long, covering Christmas and New Year's Eve, and we're stopping at multiple ports. I can't remember them all, but I do remember the Virgin Islands, Dominica, and Barbados. But guess what? It's specifically for single, mature adults. No swiping for us. We'll all be together on a boat.”
Vivian burst out laughing. “I love you. You're a riot.” When Vivian finally stopped laughing, she said, “Seriously though, I hope it brings you some fun, truly. But you're not running away from what happened with Christopher, are you?”
“Running away? Hardly,” she scoffed, but there was no real bite to her words. “You won't believe it, but there's a ballroom dancing competition on board.” She absentmindedly ran her fingers over a knitted scarf on the table, her mind clearly elsewhere. “There are daily group activities, mixers, outings, formal dinners it will be fun.” Eleanor refolded the scarf. “These past couple of months brought back many memories. They’ve reminded me that life is short. Too short to waste being miserable and bitter.” She let out a rueful chuckle. “Lord knows I've perfected that act, haven't I?”
They both laughed, and Vivian wrapped Eleanor in a hug full of love and friendship. Finally, Vivian pulled back, her smile soft. She reached out, placing a hand on Eleanor's arm. “Oh, El,” she said, “I'm so happy to hear you say that. You deserve happiness and new experiences. I think this cruise is exactly what you need.”
“Well, don't get all mushy on me now,” she muttered, but her eyes betrayed her gratitude. “We'd better finish setting up. The market's about to open.”
They bustled about, making final adjustments. Eleanor straightened a row of intricately knitted mittens, marveling at Vivian's handiwork. “These are exquisite. They'll sell like hotcakes.”
Stepping back, they admired their handiwork. The stall was a wonderland of Vivian's creations—scarves, hats, mittens, and sweaters in festive colors. Eleanor flushed with pride for her friend. “This might not be Santa's workshop, but it definitely has its own charm,” she said, sharing a laugh with Vivian.
“Ready?” Vivian asked. “Here come the tourists.”
Eleanor nodded, smoothing down her gray bun with one hand. “As I'll ever be,” she said, allowing herself a small smile. As the first customers approached, Eleanor thought, Mistletoe has the best kind of Christmas magic: the people .