Chapter 43
The pair of men arrived to a packed town square. Couples, families, business owners, even the local old-timers—practically everyone had turned out to observe Mistletoe Grove’s most time-honored tradition.
It almost brought a tear to Graham’s eye. To think this small, out-of-the-way village had every odd stacked against it and still everyone came together to make the season bright. Maybe there really was something special about Mistletoe Grove.
Descending into the crowd, Graham found himself enveloped by rosy cheeks, hand-knit scarves, thermoses full of hot apple cider—all underscored by the eager murmurs of townspeople waiting for the festivities to begin.
Graham felt his heart give a squeeze. You sure wouldn’t find most Angelenos braving the cold on a December night like this. But here in Mistletoe Grove, people had different priorities.
Maybe they were onto something.
Maybe Brent was onto something. His gaze flicked discreetly to the man standing at his side.
A familiar voice pulled him back to the present. “Well, I see whatever happened between you boys has worked itself out.”
Graham did a double take at the sight of his mother before him. A wave of anxiety spread through his system as he realized he was in fact holding hands with Brent.
Crap, how long had he been doing that?
“Don’t be embarrassed, son.” His mother took the hand of Mayor Pickering beside her. “Christmas is the season for embracing the love around us.”
Graham tightened his fingers into Brent’s. Perhaps his mother was right.
At least about this.
Grinning, Mayor Pickering excused himself. It was nearly time for the festivities to begin.
“With so little time left,” Brent offered by way of explanation, “it didn’t make sense to waste it fighting. I think we’d both rather spend our last night together making a more positive memory.”
That’s right, supplied a voice in Graham’s head. Tomorrow was Christmas Day, and—provided Coco did in fact reappear—their plane ride back to LA. Not that he was looking forward to facing the music back at the office.
A tinge of sadness reached Carol’s face. A sadness Graham knew meant his mother was finally realizing her Christmas wish for her son to finally come home for good wouldn’t be coming true.
She took a cleansing breath. “Still no sign of Coco, eh?”
The question drew a sigh of resignation from Graham. “No, but knowing Coco, I’m sure she’ll turn up when we least expect it.”
Just then, the thud of Mayor Pickering tapping the microphone up front cast a hush over the crowd. All eyes turned to the gazebo at the center of the square, where their esteemed, if doddering, Mayor stood at the ready to begin the ceremony.
Graham registered Brent giving his hand a squeeze. His entire body felt suddenly wrapped in warmth.
“Citizens of Mistletoe Grove,” the Mayor began, “if there’s one thing I can count on, it’s the spirit of this community.
Even on a December night, here you are, bundled up from head to toe, ever faithful to time-honored tradition.
” A beat of silence followed as he failed to contain a heavy sigh.
“If only the rest of the world still saw in us what we do.”
Melancholy nods of agreement followed suit throughout the crowd.
“Tonight isn’t for moping, though,” the Mayor quickly recalibrated.
“Tonight is for celebration. Maybe Mistletoe Grove doesn’t pull in the crowds like we used to.
Maybe we don’t offer newfangled glitz and glam.
You know what we do have, though? Heart.
And as long as we still believe in what makes this season special, then the Christmas spirit is alive and well here. ”
The proclamation drew a roar of applause.
Suddenly, Graham became aware of a mist fogging his vision. He quickly blinked it away before Brent could notice.
“All right, all right,” the Mayor settled the crowd. “Nobody came here to listen to this old mossback yap. What do you say we light ourselves a Christmas tree?”
Another roar of applause erupted as Pickering gestured to the mighty spruce before them.
The same spruce where, just a few short days ago, Graham had stumbled upon an old friend who’d made him question everything.
A smile curled on his lips at the memory of their meeting.
It hadn’t exactly been a Kodak moment—witnessing an apparent daredevil with a death wish spiraling down the branches of this tree, all the while tangled in a rat’s nest of holiday twinkle lights.
But somehow, to Graham’s chagrin, Brent tumbling ass-over-teakettle had led to himself falling head-over-heels.
He shook the thought away. Pull yourself together, Graham. Now is not the time to start getting sentimental.
The start of the Mayor’s countdown brought Graham back to the present. “Everyone together now,” Pickering encouraged, a ceremonial light switch box in-hand. “Three…”
All around, faces lit with anticipation as the crowd joined in.
“Two…”
Graham didn’t think he’d ever seen Brent or his mother glow so bright.
“One.”
His whole body beamed as the warmth of the moment radiated.
“Mistletoe Grove,” the Mayor proclaimed, “may I present to you your signature, annual town square Christmas tree.” With characteristic flourish, he plunged his pointer finger down on the switch’s activation button.
With bated breath, every soul in sight waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Pickering furrowed his brow at the still-dark evergreen before them. “I—I—I…don’t understand.” Flustered, he punched the button on repeat as unease spread through the crowd. “Christmas can’t be ruined!”
Almost as if on cue, a voice Graham knew well broke the silence. “Don’t worry, Mayor. As they say, the show must go on.”
The sight of none other than Coco Holliday herself emerging from behind the town tree nearly made Graham’s heart rate flatline.
He rubbed his eyes, nonplussed. “Coco?”
She responded with a hair flip. “Miss me?”
Graham could have practically keeled over. Apparently, Coco really had been destined to turn up when he least expected it.
And without a lampshade on her head, no less.
He pulled a double take, still in disbelief at the sight his eyes beheld.
Explanation would have to come later, though. For now, they still had a Christmas tree to light.
“Sorry, Mayor,” Coco offered, a wince twisting her face. “I may have forgotten to plug a few things back in when I tapped into your electrical circuit.”
Bewildered looks spread through the crowd as their surprise guest darted back beneath the massive evergreen.
Graham, for his part, was no exception. “What on earth is she—”
“Aha!” came Coco’s triumphant voice, still out of sight as she plugged in a loose extension cord at the base of the tree trunk.
All at once, the entire height of the tree lit up like a Broadway marquee.
Graham could only imagine the whole East Coast power grid must have temporarily browned out then.
He watched his mother clutch her chest as if having a religious experience. “It’s…it’s…”
“Just like Christmas ought to be,” Brent took it upon himself to complete.
Reverent, Graham fell still at the austere vision before him. He had to hand it to Brent. Despite the chaos wrought in bringing this spectacle to life, the end result had been worth it indeed.
He hadn’t been certain what to expect going into the ceremony. Sure, he had his memories of this tree growing up. But those had all been through the eyes of a kid. Everything shined brighter when you didn’t know any better.
Or rather, when the world hadn’t yet turned everything gray.
Either way, the nostalgia held up. Gazing at the tree, Graham found himself filled with a childlike wonder, the likes of which he hadn’t felt since Papa Noel knew when.
Certainly not since he’d left for LA.
And certainly not before the reintroduction of Brent into his life.
He squashed the thought down, distracting himself with the decked-out tree before them.
Every last bough was trimmed to the nines with bright, multicolored lights, rich, hand-painted ornaments, and kissed with a dusting of fresh-fallen snow that sparkled on the emerald needles like a vision from a storybook.
Taken together, the effect could just about persuade a certain Scroogey LA transplant to give Christmas another chance.
As quickly as it had begun, though, Graham’s temporary insanity abated as a blinding flash of light—brighter than the town tree even—filled his field of vision.
Blinding every other Mistletoe Groveian huddled in the square, as well.
“Whoopsie,” giggled Coco beside the tree. “Just forgot one detail.” From behind her back, she produced a rip cord.
And gave it a firm, decisive tug.
The next thing Graham knew, he found himself gawking at a giant, rolled-up projector screen unfurling from an overhead wire to the ground.
And displayed vividly upon it, projected by the light that had moments ago nearly blinded them, was a message that made Graham’s heart stop:
World Premiere: A Timeless Christmas Classic Reimagined for a New Tradition…Holiday with the Wholesomes
Stunned, Graham let his jaw go slack. You must be hallucinating, Bartlett.