CHAPTER NINE
The next day was the deadline for the vendor’s festival paperwork. She went through each sheet and began assigning location spots to keep similar businesses separate and a good mix of crafts, food, and merch on every block.
Aunt Winnie stopped by her desk to check on things.
“I’ve only got a few forms with missing information, and it looks like we might be short a few junction boxes for all the ones requesting power.” Hannah Leigh put all the problematic paperwork into a folder and handed it to her aunt for follow-up.
“You’ve been so helpful already,” Aunt Winnie said. “I’m so glad you could come. I’d be running in circles without you. Tonight is the feature movie. You won’t want to miss it. I’ve already left your ticket at the box office.”
“You didn’t have to do that. I could’ve bought a ticket.”
“It’s my pleasure. I have to give you some kind of bonus.”
HOLIDAY CLASSIC MARATHON
FEATURING CHRISTMAS JOY
BASED ON THE NOVEL BY
LOCAL AUTHOR NANCY NAIGLE
The letters shouted the news in cheerful red and green, framed by garland and silver bells that jingled in the breeze.
Hannah Leigh slowed as she got closer, her breath catching in a smile. As a teenager, she’d spent countless December nights in that theater dreaming big dreams under these very lights. The marquee made South Hill feel like Hollywood when she was a little girl.
She tugged her scarf tighter as she stepped up to the ticket booth. “I think there’s a ticket here for me. I’m Hannah Leigh Parker.”
The teenager straightened his Santa hat, taking the job as seriously as any big-league gig. His grin was wide, proud, and a little nervous in that first-day way. “Miss Winnie left your ticket.” He practically glowed. “Enjoy the show.”
Hannah Leigh couldn’t help smiling. He had the same small-town pride she’d grown up on.
Inside, the lobby vibrated with Christmas cheer, every corner touched by sparkle and care.
White ribbons trimmed in silver trailed down the grand staircase, magnolia leaf wreaths decked every door, and a velvet rope corralled a line of wide-eyed kids wearing faux reindeer ears and antlers waiting to take photos in front of a cardboard sleigh.
The aroma of sweet and salty snacks wafted across the space.
Across the way at a folding table beside the concession stand, Hannah Leigh watched Birdie empty her entire purse across the table in a bit of a tizzy.
“I swear on my first husband’s El Camino, it was here a minute ago!” She dug through a kaleidoscope of lipstick tubes, and at least three mini flashlights. “I had a bag of Pearl’s Pralines.”
“You sure you didn’t eat them?” asked the teenage concession girl. “They are hard to resist.”
Birdie straightened, one hand on her hip and her Santa pin flashing. “Child, I don’t eat pralines before a movie. It gums up my commentary. Besides, I planned to pass them out during the quiet part when the couple realizes they were in love all along.”
Hannah Leigh couldn’t stop herself. She crossed the room. “You mean the whole movie?”
Birdie whipped around and gasped as if she’d seen Elvis. “Well, well, if it isn’t the prodigal Parker. I’ve been wondering, have you considered sticking around?”
“I’m just visiting,” Hannah Leigh said with a smile, though Birdie’s piercing stare made her feel like she’d just confessed to a federal crime.
Birdie hooked her arm through Hannah Leigh’s. “Come sit by me. I have theories, and I need someone with sense to help me sort ‘em out.”
“Theories?”
“About something concerning our dogwood tree. It’s famous, you know.”
“I heard.” Hannah Leigh blinked. “What about it?”
Birdie looked around, then leaned in like she was about to reveal something big.
“Years ago, there was a story about a woman waiting for her true love under that tree.” She straightened, lifting her chin the way she did when she was getting ready to get bossy.
She folded her arms across her chest. “And now you’re telling me you found an old locket buried underneath it? Coincidence? I don’t think so.”
“Actually…I didn’t tell you that.” Hannah Leigh held Birdie’s stare. “Matter of fact, I haven’t told anyone. How did you even know?”
Birdie stood there blinking with no response whatsoever. Finally, she winked. “I heard right, didn’t I?”
Hannah Leigh hesitated to answer.
Birdie rolled her eyes. “Oh, honey, I hear things. It’s not eavesdropping if the good Lord puts you in the right place at the right time and gives you sharp ears and a reason to use ‘em, right?”
“I’m not so sure that’s how it works.” Hannah Leigh didn’t agree, but the heat creeping up her neck gave her away. “It’s probably nothing more than a trinket someone lost.”
“Do you have it? I’ve got to see it.” Birdie sniffed like a detective on a case. “It’s never just a trinket in South Hill, especially not if it came from Harper’s Jewelry.”
“Oh, I guess it could’ve come from there,” Hannah Leigh said. “I hadn’t even thought about that. I should stop by there tomorrow.”
“So, you do have the locket.” A flicker of excitement danced in Birdie’s eyes. “Everything means something here. Always has, always will. I believe the locket you found connects to that story from long ago.
Hannah Leigh hesitated, but despite her better judgment, she handed over the locket.
Birdie leaned in, curiosity glittering brighter than her rhinestone glasses.
Suddenly, her mouth dropped open. “Well, I’ll be.
This is something.” She slid her glasses down to the tip of her nose and squinted at the tiny photographs.
“There’s something familiar about these two… ” Her expression pinched.
“There is?” Hannah Leigh’s excitement was barely containable.
“Or maybe not,” Birdie said, lowering her glasses with a tsk.
Her heart deflated like a balloon at a county fair that’d lost its helium halfway home. “So, you don’t recognize them?”
“Nope,” Birdie said brightly, already whipping out her phone. “But don’t worry, Facebook will.”
Before Hannah Leigh could stop her, Birdie was snapping photos like a woman on a mission.
“Whoa, Birdie! What are you doing?”
“Investigating,” she said without a second glance. “This will be Exhibit A. I’m going to post the picture and spread the word.”
“Don’t you dare post that on the internet. Give me a chance to find her. This might be a very special treasure. The whole world doesn’t need to be in on this.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll only send it to my top-secret committee.”
“You mean the gossip chain?” Hannah Leigh asked. “Please don’t do that.”
Birdie’s lips pursed like she’d been told Santa was on strike. Then, simply turned and walked into the darkened theater.
Hannah Leigh stood there, surprised that Birdie didn’t have to have the last word. Someone tapped Hannah Leigh’s shoulder. She whipped around to see Aunt Winnie standing behind her.
“You scared me,” Hannah Leigh said. “I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”
“I’m not staying. Pressing Chamber matters require my attention, but I promised Birdie I’d tell you to sit with her. She’s saving you a seat.”
“Oh, I already talked to her. In fact, you just missed her.”
“Doesn’t matter. She’ll have a fit if you don’t sit with her, and blame me for it. Please do me a favor and sit with her. You won’t even have to talk to her while the movie is playing. Even Birdie follows that rule.”
With a resigned shrug, Hannah Leigh agreed.
Aunt Winnie said, “She always sits on the left, about six rows back from the screen. You’ll see her.”
“She was wearing antlers earlier with lights on them. Shouldn’t be hard to spot her.”
“Well, no one has ever accused Birdie of having good fashion sense. I’ve got to run, honey. Have fun.” And with that, Aunt Winnie swept out of the building.
She made her way into the dimly lit theater.
In the middle of it all was Birdie, antlers flashing red and green atop her fiery curls, looking as proud as a Christmas parade float.
“Saved you a seat, sugarplum!” she called, patting the spot next to her like it owed her rent.
“You know you can’t wear that flashing headband during the movie,” Hannah Leigh said.
“I know. I wanted to be sure you could spot me.” She removed the crazy headwear and shoved it into her tote bag, which now glowed on the floor like an alien.
Before the lights dimmed, Birdie leaned in. “Now, I don’t mean to stir up mystery during a Christmas movie, but it’s about the locket.”
Hannah Leigh nodded cautiously.
“Well. I’ve been thinking.” Birdie’s whisper wasn’t a whisper. It was a stage voice with the volume turned to ‘nosey neighbor in a soap opera.’
“What if that locket belonged to someone the mayor was in love with before he married Elaine? Someone who is back in town now after all these years. What if,” she lowered her voice dramatically, “he meant to propose to her at Christmas… but something stopped him. And then she left town, and he married Elaine. Like a rebound.”
“Birdie,” Hannah Leigh started, but Birdie was already rolling.
“No, no, listen to me. He’s been grumpier than usual since you found that locket. And did you know he acts like he hates Christmas, but he sneaks into this movie every year, sits in the balcony, and pretends he’s checking lightbulbs or something?”
“There’s got to be a tender spot in him somewhere,” Hannah Leigh offered. “Elaine died this time of year, didn’t she?”
“Well, yes, but he is anything but nostalgic, and she died a long time ago. He’s a grump.
Honey, the man once canceled the Christmas parade because it interfered with deer hunting season.
He is not sentimental. But guilt? Regret?
Now those are powerful motivators.” She tapped her temple with a candy cane stick.
“Mark my words. That locket is a ghost from the mayor’s past. And we’re about to watch him unravel like a dollar store garland. ”
Hannah Leigh couldn’t help glancing up at the balcony, where a shadowy figure slipped into the back row and sat alone.
Was Birdie psychic, or just that good at solving mysteries?
The film started rolling, and the crowd from the lobby filled the theater.
Birdie leaned over once more and whispered, “Mark my words, sugar. That locket is the first thread in a whole quilt of secrets. A long-buried story. Mark my words.” She rustled in her seat and leaned closer.
“And you and that handsome carpenter are gonna be the ones to stitch it all back together. Well, with my help, of course.”
Hannah Leigh bit back a smile. Birdie and her prophecies. She never met a whisper she couldn’t turn into a headline. Still, something in the older woman’s certainty tugged at her, a tiny spark she wasn’t ready to name.
“Let’s not start stitching just yet,” she said lightly, hoping her grin sounded steadier than she felt. “But thank you for the vote of confidence.”
Birdie winked. “Honey, it’s not confidence. It’s experience.”
Hannah Leigh laughed under her breath, though her heart gave a small, traitorous flutter. Turning her gaze back to the flickering screen, she pretended to study the opening frames.
But Birdie’s words lingered, settling somewhere between her ribs and reason. Maybe it was holiday magic, or maybe the woman’s instincts weren’t so far-fetched after all.
“A long-buried story,” she murmured, more to herself than to Birdie. “You really think so? The two people pictured in that locket seem perfectly charming to me.”
“You don’t have my years of experience,” Birdie said, straightening her shoulders. “You and Nate make quite the couple too, if you ask me. Now, shush. It’s impolite to talk during a movie.”
She didn’t appreciate being scolded, since Birdie had been the one who started the conversation to begin with. That old woman was about as subtle as a firecracker in a quiet church, but she had excellent intuition.
The song ‘Sleigh Bells’ played as the opening credits of the movie rolled.
She’d just nestled down in her chair when someone walked down the center aisle carrying a box of popcorn and took a seat two rows up. She’d know the silhouette of that person anywhere. Nate. The carpenter, as Birdie put it.
And even all the Christmas cheer couldn’t squash the niggling in Hannah Leigh’s gut about what Birdie had said. Especially the part about her and the carpenter, because that was a little terrifying.