Chapter 8
Eight
The morning of the Pine Ridge Christmas Festival dawned crisp and clear, with fresh snow sparkling on the rooftops like crystallized sugar atop gingerbread houses.
Lila stood at her window, watching the town come alive as vendors set up booths along Main Street and others strung additional lights between the old-fashioned streetlamps.
She’d barely slept, her mind churning with questions about Carol and the baby ornament and the growing certainty that she was closer to answers than she’d ever been.
Every time she’d drifted off, she’d jolted awake with new scenarios playing in her mind—conversations with Carol that revealed the truth, or worse, conversations that shattered her hopes entirely.
A soft knock interrupted her thoughts. Lila opened the door to find Sarah holding two steaming mugs. She was dressed in a cream-colored sweater and burgundy scarf that brought out the warmth in her brown eyes.
“I missed you for our morning coffee today. I thought you might need this before we head out to the festival,” Sarah said, holding out a cup to Lila.
Lila had purposely stayed in her room to try and calm her nerves, but now she regretted skipping what had become her morning ritual at the inn. It warmed her heart to think Sarah had wanted her there.
“You’re an angel,” Lila said, accepting the coffee gratefully and motioning for Sarah to come in. “I was just watching everyone get set up. It looks like the whole town is involved.”
“Pretty much,” Sarah agreed, settling into the wingback chair by the window. “That’s one of the things I love about Pine Ridge. When they do something, they do it together.”
Lila sat on the edge of the bed, cradling her mug and studying Sarah’s face. There was something about her presence that made Lila feel calmer, more centered. “How long have you been coming here for Christmas?”
“Oh, quite a few years now. After David passed, I tried spending holidays with various family members, but it never felt right. Too much forced cheer, too many people trying to fix my sadness.” Sarah’s expression grew distant.
“But here, people let you be where you are. They don’t try to rush you through those complicated feelings about the holiday or pretend it doesn’t exist.”
“It’s exactly what I needed this year,” Lila admitted. “I lost my mother back in the spring, and the thought of Christmas without her . . .”
Sarah’s eyes filled with understanding. “Oh honey, I’m so sorry. The first Christmas after losing someone you love is brutal.”
“How did you get through it?”
“The only way you can, one moment at a time. And by letting people like Carol and Tom take care of me, even when I wanted to push everyone away.” Sarah reached over and squeezed Lila’s hand.
“There’s something about this place that helps you remember that you’re not alone, even when you feel like you are. ”
The gesture was so maternal, so naturally comforting, that Lila felt tears prick her eyes. “Thank you. For understanding, I mean. And for the coffee and the company.”
“Of course,” Sarah said warmly. “We have to look out for each other.”
Downstairs a short while later, the lobby buzzed with excitement as the group prepared for their day at the festival. Carol moved among them with her usual energy, checking that everyone had warm enough clothes and coordinating meeting times.
“The craft booths open at nine,” Carol said, “but I recommend getting there early for the best selection.”
“I hope we find some good gifts for Mom and Dad,” Kendall said to Kimberly. “I didn’t have any time to shop before we left town.”
“Me either,” Kimberly said. “I’m sure there will be plenty to choose from.”
“Absolutely,” Carol assured them. “There are beautiful wood carvings, paintings, jewelry, pottery, you name it. Pine Ridge has quite an artistic community.” Carol’s eyes lit up with pride for her town.
“And the bakery serves hot chocolate and cinnamon rolls in their booth, which I highly recommend.”
Brady appeared from the kitchen, carrying a thermos. “You had me at cinnamon rolls,” he said, grinning.
“Maybe we should do a quick turn around the festival before we leave,” Ali said to Mike, who had just descended the stairs with their ski gear. They were spending the day skiing in nearby Breckenridge.
“Not a chance.” Mike shook his head, smiling. “You’ll see something in a booth and get distracted and we’ll never make it to the slopes.”
Ali laughed. “You’re probably right.”
“I made you two a little breakfast picnic to go,” Carol said, picking up a basket from the front desk filled with muffins, apples, and bananas.
“You’re the best.” Ali gave Carol a big hug as she accepted the basket.
“What I wouldn’t give to go skiing again,” Sophie said wistfully. “Get out there and ‘shred some powder,’ as you kids say, while you’re still young enough to do it.”
“I could still ski,” Miles said. “I saw a guy in the paper the other day who was still skiing at eighty.”
“Not with your two titanium knees and that hip replacement,” Sophie said, shaking her head.
“That’s precisely why I could do it,” he argued. “Nothing left to break.”
“I’m sure you could find something.” She laughed, looping her arm in his. “Come with me, and I’ll buy you one of those cinnamon rolls.”
Brady came to stand beside Lila as Sophie and Miles continued to tease each other. “Everything okay? You’re quiet this morning.”
“Just excited about the festival,” she said. Anxious was more like it. She planned to spend as much time as possible today with Carol to see what she could uncover.
He furrowed his brows, clearly not buying her explanation. She was relieved when he didn’t push it any further, and then Tom pulled him away to help load some things they were taking down to the festival.
Twenty minutes later, Lila made her way with the rest of the group down Main Street toward the heart of the festival.
The transformation was remarkable—as if they’d gone to sleep last night in quiet Pine Ridge and awoke this morning at the North Pole.
Booths lined both sides of the street, their red and green banners fluttering in the light breeze.
The scent of cinnamon and hot apple cider drifted from food vendors, mixing with the crisp mountain air and the ever-present smell of pine.
“It’s magical,” Lila breathed, taking in the scene. Families with small children moved between booths, couples walked hand in hand, and elderly residents sat on benches watching the activity with obvious contentment as they warmed their hands on paper cups filled with steaming refreshments.
“Wait until you see it tonight,” Sarah said as she came up beside Lila. “They light up the whole street for the tree ceremony, and it looks like something from a storybook.”
They walked slowly, stopping to admire displays of handcrafted goods.
At a woodworking booth, an elderly man demonstrated carving techniques while his wife arranged ornate jewelry boxes and cutting boards.
A few booths down, a woman in her thirties sold homemade soaps and candles with seasonal scents like balsam and gingerbread.
“Sarah! Lila!” Carol’s voice called from across the street. She was standing with Tom beside a booth displaying quilts and other textile crafts—Cynthia’s booth, Lila realized with a start.
They made their way over, weaving through clusters of festivalgoers. Cynthia looked up from arranging a display of baby quilts and smiled warmly when she saw Lila.
“How lovely to see you again,” Cynthia said. “What do you think of our little festival?”
“It’s wonderful,” Lila replied, acutely aware of Carol and Sarah listening to their exchange and hoping Cynthia wouldn’t mention the quilt. “The whole town really comes together for this.”
“It’s been a tradition for over fifty years,” Carol said proudly. “Tom’s grandfather actually started it as a way to bring the community together during the holidays. Back then it was much smaller, just a few families selling crafts and sharing food.”
“How long have you lived here, Carol?” Lila asked, seizing the opportunity. “You seem to know so much about the town’s history.”
“Oh, most of my adult life. I came here in my early twenties and never left.” Carol’s expression grew fond as she looked around at the bustling street. “This place has a way of getting into your heart.”
“Did you grow up in Colorado?”
“Born and raised in Denver, but I needed a change of scenery after high school, so I came out to work at the ski resort over in Breckenridge. Small-town life suited me much better than the city.” Carol fingered a quilt on Cynthia’s display, her touch gentle.
“Though I’ll admit, my first few years here were a bit challenging.
I was young and made some poor choices in the romance department. ”
Cynthia and Carol exchanged a glance Lila couldn’t read, and it occurred to Lila that Cynthia would have known if Carol had given up a child.
Had she purposely not given Lila more details?
Only told Lila about the delivery to the inn so Lila would question Carol?
Had Cynthia warned Carol? Maybe Carol was assessing Lila the same way Lila was assessing her.
Would she measure up enough for Carol to tell her the truth?
Lila was spiraling. She fingered her mother’s sapphire ring she wore on her right hand, trying to conjure the quiet sense of calm her mother had always embodied.
She needed to keep this conversation going. It was the only way she was going to get to the truth.
“Poor choices how?” Lila asked, trying to keep her tone casual.
“Oh, you know how it is when you’re young. You fall for the wrong type of guy—the one your parents warn you about.” Carol’s laugh was rueful. “He was charming and exciting, but not exactly the settling-down type. I learned that lesson the hard way.”
Lila’s heart began to race. This sounded exactly like the backstory she’d imagined for her birth mother. “That must have been difficult.”