Chapter 17 Lindsey #2
Oliver cocks his head. “Wait, how do we do that? It’s cold, but definitely not cold enough for snow.”
“We divide into teams, and we have to build a snowman using only what they provide us,” I explain. “Toilet paper, bubble wrap, tissue paper, garland, things like that. And the most creative snowman wins.”
“That sounds fun,” Ron says.
I nod. “It is. It’s one of the most popular events we—”
“Lindsey! Hey, Lindsey!”
We stop at the sound of someone shouting my name behind us and turn.
Lucy and Rose are waving their hands wildly while Willow watches my mom like she’s a bomb that could detonate at any moment.
Mom’s eyes fall on me and Oliver and she smiles, but that look vanishes when she spots Ron standing next to me.
“Good to see you again, Myra Jean,” he says.
The color drains from my mother’s face, and in a matter of seconds, her expression morphs from confusion to panic to surprise.
“Ron?” she says, masking her shock with a smile.
“Who’s Ron?” Rose shout-whispers to Lucy.
My mother’s throat constricts as she swallows. “Wh-what are you doing here?”
Ron gestures toward me with his thumb. “Lindsey invited me.”
Mom pins me with her eyes. “Oh, she did.” It’s a statement, not a question. She clasps her hands together in front of her chest, shifting her focus back to Ron. “Well, it’s good to see you again.”
Rose mouths, Again? to Willow with wide eyes.
“We should get over to the tent,” Lucy says. “We don’t want to miss the contest.”
“Wouldn’t be the only thing I’m missing today,” Rose mutters.
“It’s nice to see you guys.” Lucy smiles at Ron and Oliver, hooking one arm through each of theirs. “How’s June Bug? How’s the fire hall? Tell me everything.”
Oliver flashes me a puzzled grin as Lucy steers them away, and I give him what I hope is an encouraging smile as Mom grips my shoulder.
“Care to explain what’s going on, dear daughter?”
“To all of us, please,” Rose says with a huff.
“Rose, maybe we should go with Lucy,” Willow says. Aunt Rose attempts to argue, but Willow pries her away, leaving me alone with my mother.
“What do you mean?” I feign innocence once everyone is out of earshot.
“Why is Ron here?”
I shrug. “He’s a friend.”
“Oh?”
I peer at her through slits. “Why does that surprise you?”
She can’t meet my gaze. “He…He’s, uh, a stranger, really.”
“A stranger, hmm?”
Her cheeks flame red, like two little Rudolph noses. “Well, I…I met him the other day. Briefly.”
“Was it?” I ask. “Brief?”
She squeezes her eyes shut and takes a breath. “We also had dinner together.”
“And did you have a good time?”
When she finally looks at me, there’s a brightness to her face I haven’t seen in a long time.
“I did,” she says, barely above a whisper.
“Doesn’t sound like he’s much of a stranger to either of us then, does it?” I wrap my arm around her shoulders and give her a squeeze. “I’m glad you’re here, Mom.”
Her face softens. “Don’t think you’re getting off that easy, young lady. You pulled a fast one on me.”
I grin and loop my arm through hers. “Why don’t we just call it even?”
“The winner of this year’s Do You Want to Build a Snowman contest is…” The mayor of Loving pauses for effect. “The Butts Family!”
“What?” Rose’s voice slices through the air, bringing everyone’s attention to her. She throws her hands up. “I’m just saying what we’re all thinking. This competition’s rigged.”
Several people from neighboring teams nod and clap their agreement.
“Small-town politics,” Lucy mutters.
Willow stifles a laugh. “Or maybe it’s because our snowman looks a little” —she lowers her voice so Noah and Emily can’t hear— “phallic.”
“Oh God, it does,” I whisper, clasping a hand over my mouth.
Our snowman ended up with no arms and two large wads of bubble wrap at the bottom to add additional support because he kept toppling over. Even the Santa hat we put on him at the last minute couldn’t save him.
“I think it adds a little something, if you ask me,” Rose says. “Jolly Old Saint Dickolas is standing tall.”
Ben snorts. “One might even say erect.”
“Butts family,” the mayor continues, “you can come collect your hundred-dollar gift certificate to Lovebird Brews.”
“I get to take you back there this week,” Ron says to my mom, and my heart lurches. “If you ask me, I already won.”
“What’s next on the agenda?” Kayla asks as the volunteers come around to collect our snowmen.
“The karaoke contest starts in half an hour,” Ben answers.
I sense my mother stiffening at my side, and I touch her arm.
Dad used to love the karaoke competition. He looked forward to it every year, and he always had to have a spot right by the stage. For as much as he loved to watch, he never actually competed.
But Mom did. Every year, she sang just for him because he loved it so much.
Because he loved the sound of her voice.
I haven’t even heard her hum since Dad passed away.
Not in the kitchen, not in the car, not anywhere.
When Dad died, the music in our lives did too.
One second, we were singing along to our favorite song.
The next, we were right in the middle of the best part when it just stopped, never to be heard again.
The words linger on the tips of our tongues, but the melody is always out of reach.
“What do you say we all hit the refreshment stand?” Oliver asks. “I noticed The Southern Bean is serving coffee up there.”
“There’s also spiked hot chocolate and Mistletoe Margaritas.” Kayla bounces her shoulders. “And funnel cake.”
“Actually, a drink sounds nice,” Mom says.
Ron smiles. “Lead the way.”
About ten minutes later, with our drinks procured, we push through the crowds toward the main stage where the community bell choir is finishing an enchanting rendition of “Carol of the Bells.” The tinkling of the chimes carries through the audience, flickering above the hushed voices like fireflies.
The song finishes with a flourish, and everyone erupts into applause, including those passing by who’ve been stopped in their tracks by the performance.
“Give it up for the Loving Bell Choir,” a deep, velvety voice belonging to a short man with jet-black hair and a five o’clock shadow booms into a mic.
Eddie O’Donnell hosts a popular morning radio show in Nashville, but he’s lived here for years and brings his adorable pit bull, Dolly, to the clinic. He’s something of a local celebrity.
Eddie claps along with the audience as the choir files offstage with smiles and waves.
“We’re going to take a five-minute break, but when we come back, it’s time for some holiday karaoke,” Eddie says.
“The beautiful Agnes from The Knitting Post is manning the sign-up booth to the left of the stage. Give us a wave, Agnes.” He looks to where a woman about my mother’s age with a white-blonde chignon and an emerald green coat is sitting, and she wiggles her fingers in the air.
“Remember, there’s a three-night stay at a gorgeous cabin in Gatlinburg up for grabs, so you better run like Rudolph to register. ”
“I’ll scope out some good spots,” Ben says, starting for the seating area where people are beginning to disperse.
“Woo boy.” Kayla takes a slurp of her margarita. “I better get my name on the list before the tequila wears off.”
“Wait for me,” Aunt Rose says, reaching for Kayla’s arm. “Maybe I’ll put my name in.”
I twirl my finger at her. “You’re not fooling anyone. You just want to check out Eddie.”
“Of course, I do.” Aunt Rose lifts her chin, giving me a sly smirk. “I’m going to need a handsome suitor to accompany me to the mountains when I win.”
Oliver leans his head toward mine, his voice low as Kayla and Aunt Rose disappear through the crowd. “Your aunt is…” He trails off, searching for the right words.
“A man-eater? A shameless flirt? Likely to one day set off her Life Alert bracelet so a bunch of hot firefighters show up to rescue her?”
“Exactly.” He chuckles and takes a sip of his coffee. “So, your aunt has a thing for firefighters?”
“Any man in uniform, really. Why?” I ask. “Know someone at the fire hall you can set her up with?”
“I don’t,” Oliver says. “I was just wondering if this is something that runs in the family.”
I cock my head. “You want to know if I have a thing for men in uniform?”
His lips quirk. “Firefighters, specifically.”
I touch my finger to my chin, pretending to think about it. “You know, I’ve always been partial to park rangers.”
“It’s the hats, isn’t it?” he says with a grin. “I get it.”
This time, my fingers are the ones finding his. “But there’s one firefighter I think is pretty cute.”
“Over here!” Ben waves from the end of the third row.
Noah is already bounding toward him with Ellie and Emily on his heels, leaving the rest of us to follow suit.
“After you.” Ron smiles, gesturing for Mom to walk ahead.
“Half of us can sit here, and the other can sit in front of us,” Ben says as we get closer.
“I’m sitting in front of you,” Lucy says. “I don’t want anything to block me from seeing Kayla butcher that Mariah Carey high note.”
Oliver and I file in behind her and Willow, leaving two seats for Kayla and Rose, while Mom and Ron settle in behind us next to Ellie.
“We could do our famous duet,” Lucy says to me, leaning over Willow’s lap.
“Don’t you mean infamous?” Ben wrinkles his nose. “I didn’t think ‘Last Christmas’ could get any worse.”
“Hey!” I whip around and fix him with my eyes. “Those are fighting words.”
“And what we lack in talent, we make up for with our dazzling stage presence,” Lucy adds, wiggling her fingers.
Ben narrows his eyes. “I think we need someone with actual talent to sing.”
“Don’t worry,” Kayla says as she and Rose squeeze past us to their seats. “They’ll be calling my name soon.”
“I’ve got my earplugs right here.” Ben pats his coat pocket. “I meant we need Mom to get up there.”
“You’re a singer?” Ron asks.
Mom shakes her head. “No, not at all.”
“Of course, she is. Where do you think we get our charisma?” Lucy asks.
“Not from me,” Mom insists.