Chapter 5
“The Season Doesn’t Hit
The Same As It Did Before”
The tree lighting ceremony kicked off Hideaway Harbor’s holiday festivities the first Saturday after Thanksgiving. Wren hated attending annual events alone because they served as a painful reminder that another year had passed. She’d grown another year older, spent another year alone.
So, like any cool person would, she took her dad as her date.
Her dad enjoyed the town events, as they gave him a chance to catch up with the locals and visit with his sister Astrid.
Once the speeches started, the mayor would undoubtedly mention the recent fundraising efforts for the cat sanctuary at The Haven, and everyone would stare at her—the local cat lady. But Bodhi would be by her side, making that unwanted attention a little more bearable.
She appreciated the townspeople. Without their help, the cats wouldn’t have heat and shelter for the winter, but being known only for cats really wasn’t the vibe any woman of thirty wanted to achieve.
By the time they made it into town, it was dark. She hadn’t meant to run late, but she was so flustered from her encounter with Greyson that morning that she’d forgotten to remind her dad the tree lighting was that night. Then she had to wait for him to get ready.
Not knowing when the snow would start, she decided to take her Jeep rather than walk. Bodhi always preferred being on foot and complained the entire two-minute drive into town.
“We could have walked,” he said, as Wren struggled to find a close parking space. “At this rate, we’ll park farther away than home.”
“Enough, Dad.” She spotted a small opening by the bank. “I didn’t want to walk home in the snow.”
“You act like we’re getting a blizzard. It’s only going to be three inches.”
“Greyson said eight.”
“He’s wrong.”
She wasn’t getting caught up in another one of their silly debates.
For some reason, Greyson always took issue with the way Bodhi did things, predicted the weather, and didn’t show up for events in her life.
With only one parent left, she tried not to dwell on the negative and simply focused on the things she and her dad shared.
“Astrid’s probably already there.”
Astrid, her eccentric aunt on her dad’s side, was extremely close to Bodhi and equally strange to outsiders. Wren was used to both of them and hardly noticed their quirkiness. It was likely that the locals found Wren just as odd.
She didn’t expect the Hawthornes to attend the tree lighting. Losing their mothers during the holiday season always made the sweetness of Christmas a bit bitter.
The anniversary had already passed, but for some reason, they all associated the loss with the holidays.
That first Christmas without their moms had been the absolute worst. Something Wren didn’t like to think about.
But unlike the Hawthornes, she tried to rewrite the sad memories with new traditions.
It didn’t always work, but when it did, she remembered for a split second just how magical Christmas could be.
When she and Bodhi got to the crowded end of town with the enormous tree, it became hard to hear anything over the speakers blasting Christmas carols. Her father smiled and pointed as they worked their way through the merry crowd.
The music swelled with holiday cheer, and the locals gathered like toys on a shelf, beribboned in festive scarves and hats, bouncing anxiously for the show to begin.
The stage beside the tree had bleachers for the local choir. Uplights illuminated the podium where Mayor John Locke would make his speech.
As soon as they made it to the front, Mayor John Locke appeared with a big smile and waved as the crowd cheered. Every year, he grew out his full white beard for his upcoming role as Santa Claus. The carolers, dressed in robes and elf-ear headbands, gathered behind him.
“Happy holidays, Hideaway Harbor!” Mayor Locke bellowed, and the crowd echoed his enthusiasm with a great big cheer.
It took a few moments for the mayor to gain control of the pandemonium, but it was all in good fun.
“Alright, alright,” he said, raising his gloved hands to settle the crowd, his cheeks red from the cold or, more likely, the cider.
He flashed a wide grin and clutched the podium.
“Settle in, folks. I promise to keep this short and sweet.”
Wren tucked her hands deeper into the wool-lined pockets of the shirt Greyson had loaned her as snowflakes floated like confetti beneath the glow of the harbor lights. The scent of the nearby bakery mingled with the warm, cinnamon-spiced aroma of pecans roasting at a vendor cart nearby.
The music lowered, but the crowd hardly quieted as children laughed and played underfoot. For some, it was the first time they’d caught up with neighbors since October’s pumpkin carving contest.
Parents hushed their children and looked up at the stage expectantly, waiting for the main event.
“I want to start by thanking each and every one of you for your incredible generosity during last week’s fundraiser,” the mayor continued. “Because of your kindness—and a shocking amount of hand-knit cat blankets—we raised over two thousand dollars for the sanctuary at The Haven.”
A cheer erupted, followed by a few “meows” from the teenage boy Wren recognized as the drama club president. He was wearing reindeer antlers and elf ears.
Wren smiled, and Bodhi waved over a paper cone of roasted nuts.
“The sanctuary’s new outdoor catio will be built next week, the lowest contract bid going to none other than Greyson Hawthorne.
” The mayor paused to look for Greyson, but when he didn’t see him in the crowd, he continued speaking.
“Let me tell you, these kittens and cats will be living their best life come spring.”
The locals laughed.
“Now, as for what’s ahead—brace yourselves. Keeping with Hideaway Harbor tradition, our goal is always to upstage the prior year’s festivities.”
The crowd cheered and whistled with abundant town pride. Mayor Locke grinned, his pearly teeth flashing within his thick white beard.
“Local author, Jocelyn Collins, is hosting a ticketed event at Hook, Wine, and Sinker next Thursday, and she’s requested all of Hideaway Harbor’s brave—or foolish—single men to sign up.
In hopes of raising money for the upcoming library renovations, Jocelyn has arranged for fifty romance readers from her local chapter to come to Hideaway Harbor to find their holiday hero. Where is Jocelyn?”
A sharp whistle belted through the crowd as Wren’s best friend pulled her fingers from her mouth and waved.
“Over here!” Of course, Jocelyn didn’t need a microphone to be heard.
She waved a clipboard and a long tail of raffle tickets in the air.
“Tickets are available, and signups are open! Who wants to be on the naughty list?”
“Thank you, Jocelyn,” the mayor said, clearing his throat.
“And good luck to all of you who sign up for her Raiders of the Lost Heart fundraiser event. That brings us to our next charity, the Winter Festival fund, which, as you all know, supports our world-famous caroling division, the woolen sock-running championship, and, of course, the lobster trap tree lighting, where Larry the Lobstah will make his shining debut...”
Wren shook her head fondly. Hideaway might be slightly unhinged around the holidays, but that was part of the charm.
Mayor Locke grinned proudly and tipped his hat. “And now, the moment we’ve all been waiting for. It is my honor to introduce a woman who can out-charm Santa Claus himself—Amanda Willis!”
Uproarious applause erupted as the famous actress took the stage and waved. Her red, plaid flannel coat and shearling collar paired perfectly with her lumberjack hat. Even with the earflaps, she was stunning in that effortless way she always seemed to pull off.
“Amanda will be lighting the tree tonight and officially kicking off this year’s Winter Festivities!”
Children bounced on their toes to see what the fuss was about, appearing somewhat disappointed when it wasn’t the big guy in a red suit causing all the excitement. Wren smiled when she heard a little one ask in a whiny, bored voice when Santa would get there.
Parents pulled out their phones to take pictures as Amanda Willis took the official plug in hand. The towering tree was wrapped in thousands of lights, and Wren’s heart pinched slightly at the fact that another year had passed.
Here she was, alone again.
“If not for my sweet tooth, I’d skip this barbaric tradition,” Bodhi said over a mouthful of honey-roasted nuts. “Tree’s probably at least fifty years old.”
“Dad, don’t ruin their fun.”
He shook his head in disapproval and licked the sugar off his lips. “They could at least bring back the Yule log and get the most out of their kill.”
Wren rolled her eyes just as the crowd roared.
The enormous tree glowed in a mixture of colorful lights.
She felt sorry for the tree, but she still loved this part of their town’s traditions.
If not for Hideaway Harbor’s relentless cheer this time of year, she’d most likely spend each December depressed and overwhelmed by memories of her mother.
The music turned up, and people returned to mingling about the square, where the local shops showcased their merchandise and tempted guests inside with delicious winter treats.
“I see Astrid over there.”
“Go ahead.” She waved at her aunt and urged Bodhi to go to her. “I’ll walk around for a while.”
Wren wandered through the crowd, not stopping at any of the stores, but enjoying the ambiance nonetheless until she lost her vision to a set of cold hands.
“Guess who?”
She stilled and caught his wrists. “Soren?” she teased, knowing perfectly well it was Logan.
“Brat.” He uncovered her eyes and tugged her braid, then tipped a paper cone in her face. “Nut?”
Warm cinnamon sugar wafted to her nose. “No thanks.”
“You sure? My nuts are delicious.”