Chapter 13 Roan
ROAN
Ipark the truck on one of the side streets off the far end of Celestial Lane, and Meg is tugging on her seatbelt before I’ve even got the engine off.
“It’ll be a walk from here,” I warn Taylor. “But it’s hard to get in and out from anywhere closer to the action.”
“It’s a gorgeous day,” Taylor says. “Perfect for a little walk.”
I hop out and hurry over to get her door. Last time, I felt a rush just touching Taylor’s hand and today is no different.
Her eyes flash to mine as my fingers close around hers, and her lips part slightly like she feels it too.
I want so badly to kiss her right now. I guess it’s good that Meg is here so I can’t rush things.
I don’t want to let go of Taylor’s hand, but I figure I have to. I give it a little squeeze before I do and she squeezes back, a tiny smile playing on the edges of her lips.
We head back up to Celestial Lane, and it seems like half the town is walking along with us, snowflakes polka-dotting colorful coats, scarves floating in the wind, and happy voices filling the snowy air.
“We’re not going to miss it, are we?” Meg asks worriedly.
“Definitely not,” I reassure her.
“This is some kind of a parade?” Taylor asks.
“It’s the March of the Furry Angels,” Meg tells her. “A pet parade.”
“Wow,” Taylor says, looking pleased.
“Foghorn can’t be in it though,” Meg says sadly. “He’s too excitable.”
“He’s happier at the farm, right?” I remind her. “Where he can run around the mountain and scare the deer away?”
“Yeah,” Meg says, smiling. “That’s his favorite thing to do.”
“What kinds of pets are in the parade then?” Taylor asks.
“Mostly dogs,” Meg says. “But last year there was a cat.”
“Mr. Snuggle-up-a-gus,” Taylor says softly. “That’s right. I remember Aunt Jessie telling me about how he got out of the shop.”
“He got a prize,” Meg giggles. “But he was really mad when your aunt carried him back.”
I wonder for a moment what happened to the cat. Taylor’s aunt couldn’t have taken him on her world adventure, could she?
“It’s a shame not to have a bookshop cat now,” Taylor says. “But Aunt Jessie gave Mr. Snuggle-up-a-gus to a friend when she decided she wanted to travel.”
“Maybe you can get a new one,” Meg suggests.
“Maybe,” Taylor says. “For now, I just want to get the place opened up.”
“It will be open next week,” Meg says firmly.
Opening before Christmas has always been Taylor’s goal. I know there are a few more things on her list that won’t be done by then, but she’s at peace with moving forward anyway.
That’s honestly impressive for someone as careful and smart as Taylor. When we first met, I assumed she would be a perfectionist about every little thing, but she’s more laid-back than I gave her credit for.
We reach the heart of town a few minutes later, and it’s as crowded as always.
Meg suddenly grabs my hand, just like when she was really little.
“Meg, hey,” a girl wandering with a pack of kids calls to her.
Meg nods and mumbles something, like she wishes the girl hadn’t noticed her.
“Is that a friend from school?” I ask her. The kid, like all kids here, is familiar. I probably know her parents from my own school days.
Meg nods and starts walking a little fast, her way of telling me she doesn’t want to talk about it.
Her shyness around anyone other than family has always worried me. My mom says she’ll grow out of it, but she’s already ten.
I glance over at Taylor, but her eyes are on Meg and there’s a little furrow in her brow.
She doesn’t like it either.
“Hey there, strangers,” Buck calls out as he strolls over to join us on the sidewalk.
I can’t help noticing a few women checking him out, and of course my gaze goes right to Taylor, who is smiling up at him and saying hello.
But her eyes don’t linger on him like the other women’s do, and that feels good. I’ve never really been jealous of my brother, but I want to be Taylor’s favorite guy.
Meg gives her uncle a hug and he immediately starts grilling her about which dog she thinks will win and why, which predictably makes her laugh.
A moment later, the pets start coming by and we all forget everything except watching the parade.
In a city parade, the dogs would probably be purebred animals in elaborate costumes, or maybe doing tricks. And their owners would be wearing coordinating outfits.
But this is so simple, it makes me wonder if Taylor will think we’re crazy for enjoying it.
The owners are wearing their hats and coats like the rest of us, and the pets are just walking down the street on their leashes.
Like Meg said, there are about three dozen dogs and one little girl carrying a rabbit in her arms.
The crowd is going wild, everyone cheering and calling out their names. I look to Taylor again and see that she’s smiling too, so she gets it.
We cheer as the animals pass us on the way to the judges’ table, which is a plastic folding table filled with the little prizes. As each pet passes, their name is announced and their owner receives a ribbon and a baggie of treats.
“Everyone wins,” Taylor realizes, looking really happy about it as she claps for the pets that pass.
“Of course,” Buck says, sounding a little scandalized. “All of them are excellent.”
“We can’t leave any of them out,” Meg agrees.
The girl with the rabbit takes her ribbon and hands her baggie of dog treats to a Jeanne Lipcott who has an elderly dog of no particular breed, but that’s about as big as a horse.
Jeanne thanks her and pats her head and a couple of people in the crowd say aww.
The judges announce that the festivities will continue with the Craft-mas Angel Gathering.
“What’s that?” Taylor asks.
“That’s the ornament making,” Meg tells her. “But I want to do a carriage ride with Santa first.”
“I thought Grandma might want to do that with you when she gets here,” I remind her. “Maybe Grandpa too.”
“Oh yeah,” Meg says happily. “Too bad you lit that fire.”
“I know,” I say, feeling itchy about the fact that I did it on purpose to keep Mom at home a little longer. I know Meg would understand, but I’m not sure she’d keep it under wraps, and I don’t want my mom to feel embarrassed.
“But she was using her cane,” Meg says softly. “So maybe it’s good for her to rest a little.”
I nod and try not to smile. No one said a word about it, but even Meg can see that it’s a bad day for her grandmother to be out standing on the pavement watching parades and jostling around making ornaments at a crowded table.
“I’ll meet you guys in there,” Buck says, waving to a friend of ours from school.
“I’m going to make a little Foghorn,” Meg decides as we set off for the Craft-mas event. “What will you make, Taylor?”
“I’m not sure,” Taylor says. “Maybe a book?”
“You could make a tiny bookshop,” Meg says excitedly. “I can help you.”
“Oh, you’ll be hard at work on your dog,” Taylor says.
“I made him last year,” Meg says, shrugging. “And the year before, too. We can do a bookshop together, if you want.”
“That would be great,” Taylor says with a big smile.
And just like that, the two of them are off to the races, talking about how they’ll make the best ornament ever.
I feel kind of like a third wheel.
And I sort of love it. Just seeing Meg open up like this feels good.
Taylor fits right into our family. Hopefully, she sees it too. Because if she’s with me, it’s going to get serious quickly. I don’t think I’m capable of dating this woman casually.
An hour or two later, the three of us have put together what I’m pretty sure is actually the best ornament anyone in our family has ever made.
The little wooden bookshop has garlands around the door just like the real one, and Taylor has painted the windows to look like there are shelves with books inside.
Meg made a little clay cat to sit by the door. It has a smug expression on its tiny face that’s surprisingly realistic.
And of course, I made pipe cleaner Christmas trees in pots to flank the shop.
I get my phone out to snap a picture of it and it buzzes before I get the chance.
“Grandma and Grandpa are here,” I tell Meg, reading their text before I take the picture and send it to my parents. “We should head out.”
The sun is high in the sky when we get outside and the snow is just light flurries.
“Oh wow,” Taylor says. “It smells incredible.”
She’s not wrong. The light wind carries the scents of the burgers and dogs on the big grill, as well as a hundred other delicious foods that are being sold at carts and enjoyed under canopies with outdoor space heaters to warm them.
“Grandma,” Meg yells, darting through the crowd to her grandparents, who have staked out a nice table near one of the heaters. Buck is already with them.
“I hope you don’t mind that we already snagged a table,” Dad says. “And your brother bought some food.”
Some? The table is covered in food.
“I thought I’d just get us a bit of everything,” Buck says, winking at Meg.
“You did,” Meg squeals, delighted.
“Thank you,” Taylor says politely.
My mom calls her over and the two of them start talking about schedules for a baking lesson. Buck sits beside Dad and Meg sits beside him, leaving the chair next to Taylor open.
I take the seat near her and the rush of the crowd and the scent of the food in front of us all seems to fade away as my eyes feast on her dark hair and the gentle smile that plays on her face while my mom regales her with advice on kitchen gadgets and where to buy the best spices on Angel Mountain.
At one point, her napkin flutters to the ground and I bend to grab it.
When I hand it to her under the table, her fingers brush mine, and for some reason I slide my fingers between hers.
She smiles without looking over at me, and doesn’t let go.
My heart races as I sit beside her, our hands entwined where no one can see them. And even though anyone would tell you that I’m the biggest grouch in town, I’m so stupidly happy right now, I feel like I could fly.