Chapter Twenty-One
Twenty-One
W illow had never seen Timber Falls so lit up. Main Street had been closed off since yesterday, and on the street now were little wooden huts. The Christmas market was a feast for the eyes, with vibrant twinkling lights strung across the road and a giant sparkling Christmas tree at the center of the square. The huts were adorned with colorful decorations, from snowmen to reindeer, and filled with an array of gifts and treats. With the snow-covered mountains standing tall behind, the town had never looked so magical, making the legend seem all too real tonight.
“Charly, try not to give away all the mulled wine,” Aubrey said with a laugh, “we’re trying to make money.” They were set up outside The Naked Moose, pouring steaming cups of mulled wine for chilled customers.
“Hey now, a little holiday cheer never hurt anyone,” Charly shot back, winking at Willow.
With every transaction throughout the day now leading into the night, and with every shared smile and laugh, the sense of community thickened, wrapping around Willow like a warm blanket on a cold winter’s night. Charly, with her nurturing calm, handed out cups of mulled wine, her laughter mingling with the music. Aubrey’s infectious energy was a beacon, drawing more onlookers to taste the mulled wine themselves.
Willow’s breath misted in the frosty air as she took in the bustling Christmas market. Further down, a brass band and carolers played Christmas songs, where a crowd gathered and were dancing. Aromas of roasted chestnuts and freshly baked gingerbread wafted through the wintry atmosphere, mingling with the scent of pine from the rows of decorated trees.
After months of planning and hard work, they had finally made it.
“Done,” Betty exclaimed, placing the last Christmas card on display. “It looks wonderful!” She looked around at the Empowerment Elves group who had all gathered to help set up. “Just look at what we’ve created together. It’s truly special.”
Joanne smiled and yet there was a little sadness in her eyes too. “I wish Amie could see this.”
“Me too,” Willow agreed, stepping away from the booth. “Let’s take a photo together. I’ll post it on social media and tag her so she knows we’re thinking of her.”
They all quickly squeezed in for the photo, with Willow asking a passerby to take it for them.
“It’s perfect,” Willow said proudly, showing everyone the photo to big smiles all around. She quickly posted it on the bar’s social media accounts, tagging everyone in the group who had given their consent, and also including Amie. “Now go enjoy the market,” she said, tucking her phone back into her pocket, “I’ll take care of the booth.”
“I’ll come back in an hour or so to give you a break,” Lisa said.
“That would be great, thank you,” Willow replied gratefully as she hugged each one of them before they went off to explore the market.
Betty leaned in closer, her wise eyes twinkling as bright as the Christmas lights around the booth. “Look at their smiles, dear. It’s an amazing thing what the group has given them, isn’t it?”
Willow wrapped her arms around Betty. “It truly is.”
“Enough hugging for now. Until I get more of that delicious mulled wine.” She grinned. “That deserves all the hugs.”
“It certainly does,” Willow agreed. Aubrey’s mulled wine was to die for.
“I have to go help with the pies now,” Betty said, waving as she headed into the bustling crowd.
Willow smiled after her and turned back to the task at hand. She placed a delicate, crocheted ornament with silver thread, upon the velvet cloth covering the tabletop. Next to it, a collection of hand-painted wooden reindeer stood guard, their intricate detail begging for admiration. But even as her hands were busy at work, a whisper of disappointment curled in her chest; there simply weren’t enough crafts.
The proceeds from these sales were meant to light up the holidays for those who had suffered like she once had—women striving to rebuild their lives after escaping abusive relationships. And Willow knew the difference every dollar could make.
“Beautiful work,” a woman commented, picking up a painted reindeer. “You can see the love that went into it.”
“Thank you,” Willow replied, her smile genuine. “Each piece sold goes to the women’s shelter to help over the holidays.”
“Oh, how wonderful,” the woman beamed. “I’ll take this one.”
“Excellent. Thank you.” Willow carefully wrapped the reindeer in tissue paper and handed it to the woman, who paid her with a generous tip and a heartfelt thank-you.
As Willow checked her out, her parents emerged through the throngs of marketgoers. Her mother’s cheeks were rosy from the brisk air, her father’s broad shoulders wrapped in a cozy old scarf that he’d owned for as long as Willow could remember.
“Hey, hon!” her mother called out.
“Hi!” Willow greeted, her heart lifting at the sight of them. They approached her booth with open arms, enveloping her in an embrace that felt like home.
“This market is amazing,” her dad said, his eyes twinkling like the Christmas lights strung above their heads. “No wonder you girls wanted to live here.”
“It’s an absolutely charming town,” her mother chimed in, admiring the array of handcrafted ornaments and wreaths adorning the booth. “As is your bar. Look at it, all glowing, and so many people over there.”
“Couldn’t have done it without Charly and Aubrey,” Willow replied, gesturing to her friends.
“Speaking of which, we promised to help them out,” her father mentioned. “Got to keep those customers warm and happy!”
“Don’t drink all the wine,” she called.
Her parents just waved her off. They’d totally drink the wine.
Warmth consumed her, watching as her parents joined forces with Charly and Aubrey, their laughter mingling together. They fit right into the market, her father’s booming chuckles drawing in passersby while her mother charmed anyone who walked up.
Her chest expanded with a sense of pride watching them. Yet as the moments passed, her gaze returned to her own booth—modest in comparison to the bustle around her—and the pang of disappointment gnawed at her once more. Each craft sold was a triumph, yet the pile seemed too small, the impact too limited.
She shook off the unsettling thought, forcing her attention back to the present. This was what mattered: the smiles, the shared joy, the collective effort to make a difference. Any money helped, no matter how much.
Right then, something tickled her consciousness. Amidst the sea of merrymakers, a sudden shift caught her attention—a cluster of curious glances and parted waves in the crowd. Then Eli, emerging from the crowd. He was hefting two boxes that looked ready to burst, his stride confident yet unassuming as if he were merely another vendor arriving late to the party. But the rugged lines of his jaw set him apart, as did the intensity in his eyes that found hers across the distance.
His smile caught her breath in her throat, as he closed in, “Hope I’m not too late for the festivities,” he said.
“Late?” Willow repeated. This wasn’t part of the plan—Eli, here, with boxes. “What’s going on?”
“Got a little somethin’ for your cause,” Eli said, a lopsided grin tugging at his lips as he set down the boxes with a thud. He opened the first box, revealing a flash of metal. “The cowboys and their better halves, Jaxon, Gunner and I, and really anyone we could rope in to help, put these together for you. You know, to help.”
Willow gasped as Eli lifted a wreath from the box. The craftsmanship was undeniable; each wreath shaped like a horse’s head, the twigs and evergreens meticulously woven in beautifully.
“Wow...” The word fell from Willow’s lips.
“We made these too. To add a little piece of the ranch in there,” Eli continued, his excitement infectious as he lifted an old horseshoe that was wrapped in ribbons of deep red and forest green, tiny silver bells chiming softly.
“Eli,” Willow whispered, finally finding her voice. She glanced up at him, his presence suddenly filling her with a warmth that seemed to right her world. “I don’t even know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything,” he said. “Let’s get them put out and sell them.”
She held his gaze, her heart in her throat. “Thank you,” she whispered, teary-eyed. “Not just for the crafts, but for being here—for being a part of this...with me.” The words fell easily. Because if she looked deep into her heart, she knew, tonight wouldn’t be right without Eli there.
He stepped closer, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth—a smile that told her all she needed to know. “Where else would I be, Willow?”
Eli surveyed the Christmas market with a sense of quiet pride. His plan to help Willow had all come together and worked, and for that he was grateful. The last light bulb around Willow’s hut flickered off. Beside him, she stood with an equal measure of satisfaction and sweetness etched into her features. Her eyes reflected the twinkling lights that still adorned the trees lining the market square.
“Looks like it was a success, huh?” Eli said, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“More than just a success,” Willow replied. “We’ve raised over three thousand dollars for the shelter, and then we’ve got your five grand from the rodeo.” She turned to him, taking a step closer. “Couldn’t have done it without you bringing the new crafts today.”
The paper cuts, the exhaustion, it was all worth it for that sweet look on her face. “It was a group effort for sure.”
She smiled in return and then her gaze drifted to a bunch of drunk marketgoers ambling by, tinsel draped over them and sporting Santa hats askew. They sang carols off-key, arms slung around one another.
Eli chuckled, the sound mingling with Willow’s laughter. “Only in Timber Falls,” he remarked, shaking his head at the group.
“It’s fun, though,” Willow said, nudging him playfully with her elbow. “Come on. Let’s join the others and warm up before we freeze to death.”
Eli followed her lead, entering The Naked Moose where the bar’s amber glow enveloped him. Willow’s parents, along with Aubrey, Charly, Jaxon and Gunner, were nestled into the nooks of the bar, drinking up the last of the mulled wine.
“Here’s to a successful Christmas market!” Jaxon raised his glass.
“Here, here,” Gunner said, echoing the sentiment.
“Couldn’t have pulled it off without everyone pitching in,” Willow responded, pouring herself and Eli a generous serving of the mulled wine. “Thank you so much everyone.” She looked to Jaxon and Gunner. “Especially for making more crafts. You’re all the best.”
Eli accepted the glass from Willow with a nod of gratitude. He took a sip, its spices dancing on his tongue, as Willow said, “Eli, you haven’t met my parents yet. This is Diane and Cliff.”
Her father stuck out his hand. “Good to meet you, Eli.”
He was a stoic-looking man. White-collar, for sure. “Likewise, sir,” Eli said, returning the handshake.
Willow’s mother, a petite woman with the same strawberry blond hair as her daughter, only cut above her shoulders and very straight, approached Eli with open arms. Her embrace was surprisingly strong, engulfing Eli in a scent of cinnamon and vanilla.
“It’s wonderful to meet you, Eli,” she whispered, her voice laced with genuine warmth. “I’ve said to Jaxon and Gunner, but I’ll say it to you too. Thank you for being so wonderful to our Willow.”
He felt a lump form in his throat as he returned her hug, a gesture so simple yet loaded with emotions he wasn’t used to anymore. It wasn’t often that Eli allowed himself to be pulled into the folds of his feelings, but this felt right—like a mother’s hug. Something he had deeply missed.
“No thanks required,” he managed to say, eyes meeting hers as she leaned away. There was a certain sparkle in her gaze as she looked between Willow and him, and Eli didn’t know if Willow had spoken to her mother about their fake relationship, but by that knowing look, he assumed her mother’s intuition could sense something between them.
He knew he’d have work to do to earn their trust. But he loved hard work.
Though by the soft way she watched him, he knew Willow had mentioned him and had said only good things. Her warm smile engulfed him as Willow’s father turned away to focus on the bar, sliding his hand along the polished wood.
“Before you two came in, I was talking about this bar. I swear things are built better here,” he said, admiring the craftsmanship.
“Eli built that,” Jaxon said.
Eli gave Jaxon a look . Talking about his work wasn’t exactly comfortable.
“Really?” Cliff asked, glancing up through his glasses. “You made this?”
Eli nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “When Jaxon opened the bar, I built it for him.”
“It’s remarkable work, Eli,” Cliff said, peering at the intricate design that swirled at the edge of the counter. “Tell me, what’s your secret to getting these curves so smooth?”
Eli slid his hand across the familiar grooves he had sanded down countless times. “Patience and steady hands,” he replied, his voice threaded with memories of hours spent laboring over the wood. “Lots of patience.”
Charly, Aubrey and Willow had drifted closer. There was surprise etched on their faces.
“Wow, Eli, I had no idea you made this,” Aubrey exclaimed, her smile soft.
“Neither did I,” Willow added, her eyes dancing over the craftsmanship before resting on Eli. He watched as Willow’s gaze lingered on the bar, her eyes tracing the whorls and knots in the wood with tenderness. Her fingers danced lightly over the surface, much like they had explored his body not that long ago.
He clenched his jaw tight, not letting those thoughts fill his mind with her parents there.
“I love that you made this,” Willow murmured, finally turning to him with her sweet smile that undid him. “It’s beautiful, Eli.”
“Thank you.” He shifted uncomfortably, unaccustomed to such praise, yet unable to tear his gaze from the emotion flickering across her features—admiration, yes, but something deeper too, something that matched the slow burn in his chest whenever she was near. “I’m glad you think so,” he said, his voice low. “I’d really hate to have to get it out of here. It wasn’t fun getting it in.”
Her laughter, light and unguarded, filled the space between them. “There’s no way we’d ever get rid of it.”
“Willow, sweetheart,” Diane interjected. She gave a yawn so fake it was laughable. “It’s been a day. I think we should get some rest.”
She nudged her husband, and Cliff chimed in, stretching, not looking tired at all. “Yes, just exhausted.”
Diane nodded at her husband, mischief twinkling in her eyes as she turned to Aubrey. “I’m sure Willow and Eli can clean up the rest of this. Would you mind driving us back to the house?”
“Of course, not a problem at all,” Aubrey said, obviously reading between the lines. “Come on, I’ll call a taxi since we’ve all been drinking.”
“I can drive you all home,” Gunner interjected. He pushed back his chair and stood. “I’ve only had one drink.”
Aubrey hesitated. Her lips pursed in a reluctant frown. “Okay, yeah, that’d be great.”
Eli wondered what her hesitation was, but he nodded his gratitude at Gunner’s offer. He wasn’t quite ready to end the night, and he didn’t mind Willow’s parents were totally setting up for them to be alone. Hell, he appreciated it. They needed to talk.
Turning to Aubrey, Gunner motioned toward the door. “Shall we?”
After goodbye hugs all around, and as they left, Eli felt the space around him shift, the atmosphere subtly changing as if the very walls were conspiring to push him closer to Willow.
It wasn’t much longer before Jaxon stood, offering Charly his hand. “We should get going too,” he said.
Charly turned to Willow. “You’re really all right to clean up?”
Willow nodded, her cheeks turning pink. “There’s not that much more to do. We’re good.”
“All right. Good night, you guys,” Charly said, as she wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck. “And thanks again for today. Gosh, the Christmas market was a total blast. Timber Falls really knows how to do Christmas.”
“You’re not wrong,” Jaxon said and then gave Willow and Eli a wave. “Night.”
“Drive safe,” Eli said.
As the door closed behind them, it was as if the world outside ceased to exist. The bar felt more intimate, the space between him and Willow charged with a new energy.
“Looks like it’s just us now,” she murmured, a hint of playfulness dancing through her words.
“Yeah, just us,” Eli echoed.
They were alone, truly alone, besides all the million things he needed to say.