Epilogue
Six months later, Lamplight Books was thriving. The publicity from the charity event had brought customers from three counties. Carrie hired two part-time employees, expanded the children’s section, and started a weekly story hour that was always packed.
Tanner had converted a bedroom in his upstairs apartment into a recording studio.
When he wasn’t recording narration, he helped Carrie downstairs in the bookshop.
On Thursdays, he volunteered at the hospital, but now there were new children to read to.
Hailey was now home with her dog, Biscuit.
Marco’s sister greeted him as he left the hospital for home.
Jade made it home in time for the last snow of the season.
On the bookshop’s Facebook page, she posted a selfie beside the snow fort she’d built.
On a warm June evening, Carrie found Tanner in his studio, recording. She waited until he finished the passage, then she knocked.
As he waved her in, she held up a letter. “This came for you.”
She sat down on his desk while he opened and read it.
Dear Mr. Blake,
Thank you for being our Santa. You helped make Christmas special.
We wanted you to know that the hospital is naming the new children’s reading room after you: The Tanner Blake Story Corner. It’s going to have comfy chairs, lots of books, and a big window so we can all watch the snow.
We hope you’ll come read to us there.
Love,
The Kids at Hollydale Children’s Hospital
Now smiling, Tanner set down the letter. “They’re naming a room after me.”
“You earned it.”
“We earned it. Your event made it happen.”
“It all worked out.” She lost herself in his gaze.
“I loved every minute of it.” He caught her hand and held it. “And I love you.”
“I love you too. Even though you leave sawdust everywhere and can’t figure out where the coffee filters go.”
He squinted. “Because they go in three different places depending on which brand you buy. Your organizational system defies logic.”
“It makes perfect sense if you—”
“Shh.” He held up a finger then stood and guided her to his chair. “Sit.” He reached for his headphones. “Would you listen to this recording? I’m trying a different approach with this project, and I need your opinion.”
She looked skeptical. “Now?”
“It’ll just take a minute. Please?”
She sighed but let him settle the headphones over her ears. He leaned over, typed something on his keyboard, and his voice filled her head. That voice. The one she still loved.
“I loved her against reason,” he was saying, and she recognized it immediately—the Dickens quote from chapter twenty-nine. The one that made her forget how to breathe. “Against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be.”
But then he continued, and this wasn’t Dickens anymore: “I loved her when she left a light on so the books wouldn’t get lonely. I loved her when she refused my help because she needed to prove that she could save herself. And I loved her enough to ask her to marry me.”
The recording stopped.
Carrie pulled off the headphones, stunned, still processing what she’d heard. Tanner was on one knee beside the chair.
“Marry me,” he said simply. “Let’s make this permanent. Let’s build a life where I fix your shelves and you fix my broken parts, and we both fix the world a little bit by sharing stories.”
She stared at him, her voice gone, her brain still catching up to what was happening.
“Carrie?” He looked suddenly uncertain. “You’re supposed to say words now,” he prompted.
“You—you recorded a proposal?”
“I narrated it.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “I did seventeen takes. That was the best one.”
“Seventeen takes of a proposal.”
“It’s hard to be perfect. You deserve perfect.” He was still on one knee, still waiting. “So . . .? Will you?”
“Yes.”
He blinked. “Yes?”
“Yes! Yes, I’ll marry you. Yes to the shelves and the stories and building a life. Yes to all of it.”
He stood, pulled her up, and kissed her. Deep and sure.
The following Christmas, they hung a sign in the window:
Tell us your Christmas wish.
Your friends at Lamplight Books
And every day until Christmas, someone did. Because in Hollydale, in a bookshop where the lights never went out, Christmas love was real, and Secret Santa always listened.