Chapter 13 Darcy
DARCY
The next morning we’re driving up to the lodge in relatively friendly silence and I’m feeling a little better than I did last night.
J.B. had her headphones on in the cabin for the early part of the morning, but she did come out and drink a mug of coffee beside me while I dealt with her father’s emails and voice messages.
It felt like her way of confirming that we’re still friends, which feels really good except I know it won’t last long.
The more I’ve replayed it in my mind, the more amazed I am that as mad as she was last night she still didn’t throw our engagement in her dad’s face.
I guess that means she actually wouldn’t mind having me for a stepmother.
That gives me a pang that I don’t want to give any attention to, so I focus on how pretty the lodge looks with the morning sunshine shimmering off the snow-frosted roof instead.
Icicles hang from the gutters, twinkling merrily in the warm light and there are pine boughs strung with lights along the porch railing.
I can see what people love about this place, even though it’s really casual compared to the fancy chalets on the mountain above.
The lodge feels homey and welcoming, like an old friend.
Derek parks the SUV and we all pile out and head up the porch steps. He opens the door to the lodge and I follow J.B. inside.
There’s a fire crackling in the grate and the Applebaums are in their usual spot on the loveseat right beside it.
Mrs. Applebaum smiles and waves to me.
“Good morning,” her husband says.
“Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Applebaum,” I reply, happy that I’ve made a few new friends here.
Michael is sitting at the little table where he and J.B. were playing chess yesterday. He’s wearing another of his fresh outfits today—a blue cardigan over a white turtleneck. He looks every bit as handsome in it as I knew he would.
“You made it,” he says teasingly. “I thought you three were going to sleep all day.”
Being an early riser must run in the family. Derek was up for a workout and a protein shake before the sun this morning.
“Great-grandpa,” J.B. says, running over to him and sitting in the chair opposite his. “You look amazing.”
“Thank you,” he replies, winking at her. “My favorite girls treated me to a new wardrobe yesterday.”
“That was fun,” she tells him. “Especially the fashion show.”
“Is everybody ready for the Angel Mountain Christmas Mingle?” Michael asks her.
“What’s that?” she asks.
My phone buzzes in my bag and I sneak a peek at it while he starts to explain. Someone in New York must have been living under a rock not to know that Derek is gone for the week.
Mandy
My sister’s name catches me by surprise—she normally texts instead of calling, but I guess it’s been a while since we had a nice chat.
“Darcy,” J.B. says. “No more working. Come listen to what’s going on today.”
I slide the phone back into my bag, figuring I can call Mandy tonight. It sounds like I’ll have plenty more to tell her after we do all the fun things Michael has planned for us today.
“Start over again, Great-grandpa,” J.B. tells him excitedly. “I want Darcy to hear.”
“Well, it’s a big day,” he tells us. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had off for the Mingle.”
“I’m so glad we can go today,” I tell him.
“Me too, sweetheart,” he tells me. “The day starts with the March of the Furry Angels.”
“That’s a pet parade,” J.B. says, like it’s the greatest thing she’s ever heard of.
“A dog parade, really,” Derek adds.
“Then we have the Craft-mas Angel Gathering,” Michael goes on. “That’s where your father shines. He’s still famous around here for his works of art.”
“We had some good times doing that together, didn’t we?” Derek recalls with a fond smile.
“Ed Littlewolf still talks about the train and mountain we made that one year,” Michael says, his eyes twinkling just like his grandson’s do when he’s happy.
“You make a donation, and then you can use all the supplies you want to make Christmas ornaments for the town tree,” J.B. tells me. “Then what, Great-grandpa?”
“While that’s going on in the library, all the food vendors are out in the parking lot with tents,” Michael goes on. “You can feast to your heart’s content and it’s all for a good cause.”
“That sounds great,” I say, my mouth already watering at the idea of sampling more delicious local treats.
“And Santa is riding around in a horse drawn carriage,” J.B. says. “For the little kids.”
That last part comes out a little forlorn, like maybe J.B. wishes the carriage ride were also for mature thirteen-year-olds instead of just the little ones.
“And finally, the night ends up at the high school auditorium with the Host of Angels,” Michael tells us.
“It’s kind of like a talent show and a sing-along all in one.
Local bands, amateur singers, and the church choir all perform and the audience joins in whenever they feel the call. It’s beautiful.”
“Wow,” I say. “It sounds like a magical day.”
“Are you sure you’re up for all that?” Derek asks him quietly. “Maybe we should pick one or two things?”
“Nonsense,” Michael tells him. “I want to do it all.”
“In that case, your chariot awaits, good sir,” Derek says with a smile. “Unless you need breakfast first?”
“We’re going to eat Christmas doughnuts from the bakery, of course,” Michael tells him in a scandalized tone. “And Paula Littlewolf’s famous pumpkin bread.”
I sigh in pleasure at the thought. My mom used to make the best pumpkin bread and it’s always been one of my favorites.
“Yes,” J.B. says, while her father all but rolls his eyes at the rest of us for being so happy to eat sweets.
We get Michael bundled up and Derek takes his arm as we head down the porch steps to the parking area. Michael sits up front for the drive and J.B. regales me with a rundown of everything we’re going to eat and do.
Before I know it, Derek is pulling into the village and trying to hunt down a parking spot.
There are cars everywhere, and Celestial Lane is blocked off.
I didn’t even know there were this many people in Angel Mountain.
“We’re missing the pet parade,” J.B. frets.
But Derek finds a perfect spot and we’re in plenty of time to catch the end of the March of the Furry Angels.
It seems to be a crowd favorite, and it’s easy to see why. Around twenty-five dogs and their owners march up to a sort of judge’s stand, which is really just a plastic folding table laden with pretty ribbons and baggies full of dog treats.
The announcer reads off the animals’ names one by one, and they step forward with their owner to accept their award.
J.B. is charmed by the whole thing, and even I have to admit that it might be the best parade I’ve ever seen when it becomes clear that every dog in attendance will be called forward to receive an award.
That winds up including the unexpected entry of Mr. Snuggle-up-a-gus, the bookstore cat, who escaped and is stalking his way down Celestial Lane to see what all the commotion is about.
A woman I assume owns both the bookstore and the cat dashes down the street to scoop him up, and is immediately called to the table to collect Mr. Snuggle-up-a-gus’s ribbon and treat bag.
The announcer calls out the whole thing in real time, and the woman even grins and takes a bow for the cheering crowd as she heads back in the direction of the bookstore with her disgruntled but victorious cat.
A little girl with a dog stuffed animal scurries up to the table as the bookstore lady leaves, and she is awarded a ribbon too, much to everyone’s delight. One of the judges asks the dog’s name and when the girl tells her quietly, the announcer duly nods.
“Congrats to Brontosaurus,” he repeats into the mic for the rest of us.
That tickles me, and I laugh with the rest of the crowd.
I get a familiar funny feeling, and turn to find Derek watching me take it all in. His dark eyes are filled with some emotion I’ve never seen there before.
“It’s wonderful,” I tell him, feeling a little self-conscious but meaning it.
“This is what the holidays are all about,” Michael says approvingly. “Communities taking the time to come together and enjoy each other’s company.”
“And maybe lend a hand, too,” Derek adds, nodding to the handwritten sign in the window of the bakery.
All proceeds from today’s sales will support the Mountain Angels Fund. Be sure to visit our booth!
“What’s the Mountain Angels Fund?” I ask. “They were collecting for it at the candy shop yesterday too.”
“It’s meant as a safety net for needy families,” Michael explains. “And it’s not just at Christmastime, though they do a lot of their fundraising now.”
“They’ll have gifts and food donations for families around the holidays,” Derek says. “But they also help with clothing and school supplies all year, and paying for kids’ activities if the parents can’t.”
“And heat bills for the older folks,” Michael puts in. “All kinds of things. They helped send the DeLange boy off to college last year after his mom lost her job when Looks for Locks closed down.”
“Didn’t Irene DeLange used to cut hair in the park to raise fund donations?” Derek asks.
“Every Summer Angel-Fest, yes she did, all day long,” Michael says.
“Rain or shine, she was always there to give what she could. It all comes around if you’re here long enough.
We pick each other up. There’s no shame or pride on being on the giving or the receiving end.
It’s just a part of life here. It’s not just money either, it’s time and care. ”
“Remember when we took a hot dinner slot after Annabeth Wright broke her leg?” Derek asks, brightening at the memory.
“Oh, her kids loved that lasagna you made,” Michael says, nodding. “I’ll never forget it.”
“That’s the kind of thing I love about this place,” Derek says, his eyes landing on me.
I nod, feeling emotional at the thought. It’s a far cry from the way things usually go in the city.