Chapter 33
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Jenna
Aaron locks eyes with me across the ChristmasFest space.
I’m standing on a wooden box that I think is used as some kind of elevated podium that I had brought in and set up in front of the North Pole area.
People are still in line to see Santa even though it’s late afternoon on Christmas Eve.
Santa’s only seeing kids for another hour, then he and Mrs. Claus will stand up, Santa will read “The Night Before Christmas,” then announce that they have to get back to the workshop to prepare to deliver toys tonight, and then they’ll leave.
ChristmasFest only lasts another thirty minutes after that before we close the doors on another successful year.
I smile at Aaron before looking around at the sea of faces gathering around me, many of them looking at me expectantly.
I’m tempted to look for the women who’ve had it out to get me the whole time, but I don’t.
This moment is a victory, whether they want to acknowledge it or not, and I don’t want to risk spoiling my mood by seeing them whisper to each other.
Clearing my throat, I bring the microphone to my mouth.
“Hello! Thank you everyone for coming out to celebrate another year of ChristmasFest. It’s been a wonderful event, and I hope you’ve all had a great time.
This year, we had the special privilege of decorating with potted trees from Farrell’s Christmas Tree Farm. ” I point at Aaron and start clapping.
Everyone joins in, turning to look at him.
He raises a hand in a wave of acknowledgment, keeping his eyes trained on me.
The way he looks at me, even when he’s a little embarrassed about getting recognition he didn’t expect or think he deserves, lets me know that he’s all in.
He’s totally on my side and has my back, even if I know he’ll push back against ideas he doesn’t agree with.
This man … it’s too soon to say it, of course, but I think—I think I’m falling for him.
I grin back at him, bringing the microphone to my mouth again.
“And it was Aaron’s brilliant idea that we should raffle off the trees to raise money for the youth hockey program started by our very own Troy Easton! ”
That garners another—louder—round of applause.
Troy and his girlfriend are standing off to the side—he’s here to draw the names of the winners—and they wave at everyone, which prompts a few whistles and whoops.
Troy might be a transplant, but he’s clearly been accepted as a hometown hero since moving here.
“Without further ado, let’s draw the winners!
” Everyone claps at that, and Troy and Anna step forward.
I hand him the microphone and pick up the small Santa’s sack we’re using to hold all the raffle entries.
Anna draws the first one, then hands the ticket to Troy, who reads off the names.
We’ve already announced that we’ll be contacting winners separately, partly to make this go a little faster since there are a lot of trees to draw for, and partly so that people don’t have to be present to win.
It’s easier and more fair that way, and it also means this only takes about fifteen minutes instead of an hour or more.
Once it’s all over, I take the microphone back.
“Thank you again, everyone. That’s it for this year.
Stick around for Santa’s famous recitation of ‘The Night Before Christmas’ and be sure to stock up on any last minute gifts or stocking stuffers you need.
Or just something fun you want for yourself! ”
If I had the time, I’d for sure grab myself one of those journals I was looking at the other day with Aaron, but there’s too much left to do today.
I’m glad I managed to pick up a couple of small presents for Aaron, Colin, and Aaron’s mom the other day.
I wasn’t totally sure what to get for any of them, but there’s a guy here selling cool pens he makes from different types of wood.
I figured for a tree guy, it’s a good one.
I got his mom an ornament that can either be for Christmas or just as a light catcher to hang in the window.
And I got Colin some fidget toys that I noticed lots of kids gathering around and playing with throughout the festival.
Aaron weaves his way through the crowds, smiling widely as he reaches me, wrapping me up for a hug and a kiss. “How are you doing?” he asks, releasing me.
I take a deep breath and let it out quickly. “Good. We’re in the home stretch now.”
The crowds are surprisingly heavy today, but I think it’s because people like all the end of season things.
Most of the faces are familiar, locals who seem to make a tradition of coming on Christmas Eve, milling through the aisles, browsing the closing sales of the vendors, drinking cocoa and eating sugar cookies.
I noticed Give and Cake brought more than normal today, and I thought it strange when they were setting up this morning. But now I get it.
Aaron rubs my back. “You’re doing great. This is the most fun part.”
I give him a surprised look. “The end? Aren’t people sad it’s over?”
He shrugs. “Are you?”
Tilting my head back and forth, I mimic his shrug. “Yes? But also no.”
“Exactly.”
I laugh, and he leans in for another kiss. “It’s fun. It’s long. It’s hard. It’s a relief when it’s over, but it’s also sad that the magic is coming to an end for another year.”
Leaning into him, I shake my head. “The magic doesn’t have to end. The magic always kinda lives here, doesn’t it? Maybe it doesn’t look like this all the time, but we all know that Santa lives here, that his helpers are all around us, and in a few short months, this’ll all be here again.”
He grins at me. “Now you sound like one of us.”
Him saying that warms me. I know he likes me and cares about me, but him saying that I belong here, that I’m starting to fit in, makes me feel really good.
Sarah weaves her way through the crowd, her son on her hip. Reaching for me, she gives me a one-armed hug, and the baby grabs a handful of my hair that she laughingly disentangles for me. “You’ve done so good!” she gushes. “I hope you’re proud of everything you’ve done.”
“Oh, well, I had tons of help. Your parents, for example. I’m not sure I could’ve done this without them.”
She bounces the baby and shakes her head. “Don’t sell yourself short. You’re clearly a force to be reckoned with.” Leaning in close, she lowers her voice. “If you tell anyone I said this, I’ll deny it, but you had my mom a little worried there.”
The warm feeling I had from Aaron’s comment that I sound like someone from here cools immediately at those words. “Oh, yeah?” I ask, keeping my tone light and casual. “Why’s that?”
Grinning still, she shakes her head. “You came in charging hard, full of ideas. She was worried you’d make so many changes she wouldn’t recognize it anymore.
And you know, this was her baby just as much as my brothers and sister and me, so she’s fiercely protective.
It was hard for her to stand back as much as she did and let you steer the ship.
But look!” She gestures around the space.
“It’s gorgeous. None of your changes altered the spirit of the event.
And between you and me, I know there were complaints about the changes you made to the decor, but it looks so much better than it used to.
You’ve kicked everything up a notch. Between the new things you brought in to replace the old, worn items and the potted trees you raffled off …
” She shakes her head. “I love ChristmasFest, and I always have, but you seem to have made me fall in love with it even more somehow.” She blinks and sniffs like she’s on the verge of tears, then shakes her head.
“Sorry. Motherhood makes me so much more emotional than I used to be. It’s just …
I’m glad to know that this will continue for this little guy“—she bounces her baby again—”and all the other kids.
It’s a tradition worth continuing. And that also means growing it, making small changes to keep up with the times.
I’m so glad that you took this job. Your work is amazing, and now that ChristmasFest is over, we can get back to our Thursday evening drinks! ”
“In January, right?” I clarify.
“Right. Not the first, of course. But the next week. We all deserve a drink after surviving the last month!” And with that, she heads back to the North Pole, presumably to visit Santa and Mrs. Claus—her parents—before they leave, and I’m frozen, nearly in shock at her gushing praise, sniffing and dashing rogue tears from my own eyes.
“See?” Aaron says quietly, rubbing my back again. “I told you that you belong here now.”
The rest of ChristmasFest passes in a whirlwind, and I linger at the edges of the crowd as Jake Daniels recites “The Night Before Christmas” with the practiced ease of a born performer who’s embodied his role for far longer than the children in his rapt audience have been alive.
I can’t help smiling through the whole thing.
I see now why this is such an important part of so many families’ traditions.
It’s … magical. The whole event, but especially these parts of it—the decorations, the North Pole, the story times with Santa or the elves, and this.
It feels good to know I had a significant hand in making this all come to life for another year, and even though I told Colin I was one of Santa’s helpers on a whim, the reality is, it’s the simple truth.
I’m one in a long line of Santa’s helpers that bring this magic to life every year, and that realization along with Sarah and Aaron’s words earlier, make me feel like, at long last, I belong.
“Come on,” Sarah says to me, tugging at my sleeve after I lock the doors, closing ChristmasFest for the last time this year.
Turning to her, I give her a quizzical look. “What’s going on?”
She smiles. “It’s tradition. Come on.”
I follow her through the empty booths, merchandise covered, lights off.
They’ll be broken down on Friday, the one day I’ll work between now and the second week of January.
Even that’s more just supervising everything, unlocking the doors to let the vendors back in to pack up what they haven’t already taken with them.
The real packing up of all the decorations and stalls will happen after the new year.
At the back by the North Pole, the vendors, volunteers, the Daniels, and everyone who’s been helping out today are gathered, plastic cups in hand. Mara smiles, filling two more cups with a bubbly liquid out of a dark green glass bottle. I sniff it.
“Sparkling cider,” Sarah whispers, confirming what I’d already guessed.
“To all of you,” Jake says, holding aloft his cup.
He’s still in his Santa costume, though he wears it so much, it probably feels like normal clothes to him at this point.
He’s not a portly man, though he does have a little bit of belly that’s common amongst middle aged men and older.
It’s not enough to fill out the Santa costume, so I know he stuffs it with something.
Whatever it is, looks pretty real. I know the beard’s real, though.
Mara has removed her tightly curled Mrs. Claus wig and the cap that contains her straight chin-length salt and pepper hair, but also still has on the rest of her costume.
“This event wouldn’t happen without the tireless work of all of you,” Jake continues.
“Mara and I started this when our kids were little, our store new, as a draw for families in the area. It’s grown so far beyond our dreams in those early days, embraced by the town to the point that it’s now one of the cornerstone events of our community.
We’re so grateful to all of you for embracing the magic and carrying it on for the next generation.
” He specifically looks at his daughters on the last sentence.
“Merry Christmas!” he shouts, holding his cup aloft.
Everyone raises their cups and echoes, “Merry Christmas!” before drinking. Conversation breaks out as people mill around, hugging and chatting and wishing each other Merry Christmas and Happy New Year before slowly dispersing until the only ones left are Sarah and me.
“Are you planning to go home and collapse now?” she asks as she walks the space with me, turning off the last of the lights before we head to the back hallway so I can collect my coat and purse from my office.
I shake my head. “I’m going over to Aaron’s. I’m having dinner with him and his mom and Colin tonight, then we’ll celebrate Christmas together tomorrow.”
Sarah’s smile grows. “Good for you.” Taking in a deep breath, she looks around. “There’s something about Christmas in this town. It’s a gorgeous place all year, but Dad’s right, there’s a particular magic this time of year. I’m glad it’s working for you too.”
Grinning, I put on my coat, then wrap my scarf around my neck. “Me too.”