Epilogue
Rainey
The porcelain angel's face caught the afternoon light as I positioned her at the top of the display.
Two months since Halloween, and Midnight Curiosities had transformed completely.
Gone were the vintage masks and mourning jewelry.
In their place, mercury glass ornaments glowed like scattered diamonds, and hand-carved German nutcrackers stood guard among the antique toys.
"That's perfect, honey." Gran admired the window from where she stood, her arm linked through Josiah's. "Though I still say that angel looks like she's judging everyone who walks by."
"She's got standards," Josiah said, squeezing Gran's hand. "Nothing wrong with that."
I smiled at the easy affection between them.
After decades of careful distance since their youth, they'd finally admitted what the whole town already knew—they'd never stopped caring for each other.
These days, Josiah spent more time here than at his hardware store, and Gran hummed while she worked—something I hadn't heard since before Grandpa died.
The door opened, and Ellie burst in, bringing cold air and excitement with her. She held a festive tin from Sweet Dreams Bakery.
"Brought you and your Gran some of our new gingerbread cookies—the ones with candied orange peel." She set the tin on the counter. "The tree lighting's in an hour! Are you and Ransom coming?"
"We wouldn't miss it. And these smell amazing, thank you."
"I swear, the whole town's buzzing with holiday spirit this year. Can you feel it?" Ellie paused, taking in the display. "Oh, Rainey, this window is gorgeous."
"Thanks." I straightened one of the nutcrackers.
Her expression softened. "Any word about Brooke?"
"Living in Dallas, last I heard. Working at a department store."
What I didn't say was how Vivian had received a letter from Brooke last week—not an apology exactly, but an acknowledgment of what she'd lost. The judge had been lenient—probation, community service, a hefty fine—but the real punishment was living with who she'd become.
"And Darcy?"
"Got off with probation, thanks to Vivian speaking up for her. Won a scholarship to LSU's technical theater program too." This update came with genuine warmth. "She sent the whole company a thank-you card. Apparently, she's thriving. Young enough to learn from her mistakes.”
"Good for her." Ellie glanced at the clock. "I should head back - need to box up the last of the cookies before we close. See you later!"
Minutes after she left, the bell over the door rang again. Mason Davenport entered, and for the first time since I'd known him, he wasn't alone. Laurel Hayes stood beside him, their gloved hands intertwined.
"Afternoon, Rainey," Mason said, his usual awkwardness softened by something that looked suspiciously like happiness. "We're looking for a gift. For Laurel's mother."
"She collects music boxes," Laurel added, then her eyes went slightly unfocused in that way I'd learned to recognize. "The veil is thin tonight. But not with darkness—with joy."
Mason touched her hand gently, grounding her. "The music boxes are over here, love."
I watched as she smiled up at him, then they moved toward the display case, heads bent together in quiet conversation.
Who would have thought? But then, Laurel understood Mason's protective nature came from kindness, not possessiveness.
And Mason found Laurel's dramatic proclamations endearing rather than unsettling. They fit in their own peculiar way.
After Mason and Laurel left with their purchase, the bell chimed once more. Ransom entered, stomping his boots on the mat.
"Investment paperwork ran long," he said, crossing to kiss my cheek. "Ready for the tree lighting?"
"Always." I still felt that familiar flutter when he touched me, even after two months of being officially together. No more hiding, no more wondering. Well, except for his nightly performance as Silas Black, but that had wrapped up after Halloween weekend.
Gran smiled at us. "You two go on ahead. Josiah and I will close up and meet you there."
An hour later, the town square buzzed with excitement. Colorful lights wound through every tree and storefront, and huge red ribbons adorned the lamp posts. The courthouse clock tower—still frozen at midnight—somehow looked romantic rather than ominous beneath its crown of sparkling stars.
"Hard to believe it's the same square where everything happened," Gran said beside me, Josiah's arm around her shoulders.
She didn't need to finish. We all remembered the fear that had gripped the town during that terrible week before the festival.
But that was over now. The production had gone on to great success, tourists had flooded in for the festival, and the town's economy had gotten the boost it desperately needed.
"Rainey!" Vivian's voice carried across the crowd. She made her way toward us, her hair now showing more silver at the roots—she'd decided to let it grow natural. "Have you given any thought to the spring production? I'm adapting Much Ado About Nothing for a Texas setting."
"Beatrice and Benedick as rival ranch owners?" I guessed.
"Exactly. You'd be perfect for Beatrice. All that witty banter, the way she swears she'll never marry..." Vivian's eyes twinkled. "Until the right cowboy changes her mind."
Before I could respond, the crowd began counting down. "Ten! Nine! Eight!"
I searched for Ransom, finding his black Stetson moving through the crowd.
"Seven! Six! Five!"
He reached me just as the count hit three, his arms sliding around my waist from behind.
"Two! One!"
The tree blazed to life—thirty feet of Douglas fir wrapped in thousands of lights, topped with a star that could probably be seen from space.
The crowd erupted in cheers and applause.
Children squealed with delight. Someone started singing "Silent Night," and others joined in, voices carrying on the cold air.
"Come with me," Ransom whispered in my ear.
He took my hand, leading me away from the crowd, toward the gazebo on the far side of the square. It was quieter here, though we could still hear the singing, still see the glow of the tree.
"What are we doing?" I asked, laughing as he pulled me up the steps.
"Something I should have done five years ago." He turned to face me, and I forgot to breathe at the look in his eyes. "Something I've been planning since the day I came back."
He dropped to one knee.
"Rainey Bell," he said, pulling a small velvet box from his pocket. "I left you once. Ghosted you, disappeared without a word, and regretted it every single day. I can't change the past, but I can promise you the future."
He opened the box. An art deco diamond ring caught the light—delicate filigree surrounding a center stone that sparkled brilliantly.
"It was my grandmother's," he continued, his voice not quite steady. "She wore it for sixty-three years of marriage. Told me before she died to give it to the woman I couldn't live without. That's you, Rainey. It's always been you."
Tears blurred my vision. "Ransom..."
"I want every day, every season, every year with you. I want to wake up beside you and argue about breakfast. I want to watch you light up that stage and know you're coming home to me."
"Yes." The word came out as barely a whisper, so I said it again, louder. "Yes, of course, yes!"
He slid the ring onto my finger—it fit as if it had been waiting for me all along. Then he stood and kissed me, long and sweet, while somewhere behind us the crowd broke into "Joy to the World."
When we finally broke apart, I realized it had started to snow. Not the ice storms East Texas sometimes got, but actual snow, unexpected and quiet.
"Snow in Midnight Springs," I said, wonderingly. "Gran says it hasn't happened since 1989."
"Magic," Ransom said, pulling me closer. "Or maybe just right on time."
The crowd had started another song—"I'll Be Home for Christmas"—and I could see our families looking for us.
Marjorie Hollis would cry when she heard the news.
Gran would pretend she hadn't been planning our wedding since the day Ransom returned.
The whole town would celebrate with us because that's what Midnight Springs did—we showed up for each other, in good times and bad.
"Ready?" Ransom asked, offering me his arm.
I took it, stepping out of the gazebo into the gently falling snow. "Ready."
We walked back toward the tree, toward our families, toward the life we'd chosen. Tomorrow would bring wedding planning and ranch business. Tonight was for miracles, big and small, and the joy of new beginnings.
He'd ghosted me once. This time, he was mine for good.