Chapter 13 Darcy #2
When my sister needed help I was the only one she could really rely on. Mandy barely knew her neighbors, let alone anyone outside her building.
But a community like Angel Mountain doesn’t happen by accident. I suspect it builds up slowly when people get to know each other well, and have the trust and humility to give and receive with grace.
The dogs and owners have cleared the street now, and people are heading into the library.
“Time for the Crafts-mas Angel Gathering,” Derek says, his eyes bright. He might be even more excited than J.B. about this one.
“Sure is,” Michael says. “Darcy, are you an artist?”
“No,” I admit. “Not at all.”
“Me neither,” Michael says, taking my arm. “Why don’t you and I go find a nice cup of hot cocoa and let these two make some ornaments?”
He’s already too tired to make ornaments with Derek, something I know they both loved.
“I’d love that,” I tell him, putting on a big smile. “Did you know I have a terrible sweet tooth?”
“My grandson may have mentioned it once or twice,” Michael says, his eyes dancing. “You know, not everyone would consider a sweet tooth to be a terrible thing.”
“We’ll see you guys when we’re done,” J.B. tells me.
She and her dad head off to the library and I watch after them for a moment, feeling glad that her anger at him seems to have faded.
“She’s a good kid,” Michael says.
“She really is,” I agree. “She’s something special.”
He nods and we head for the tents that are set up in the parking lot. They have those big heat lamps set up, and a little shiver of pleasure goes through me at the thought. It’s cold out here.
“Did you say they had Christmas doughnuts?” I ask Michael.
“Yes, they have them every year,” he replies. “The bakery has its own booth.”
He points over to where a line is already forming, so I choose a tent that’s close by.
“How about you save us seats by one of the heaters?” I suggest. “I’m not a mountain girl, so I feel like a popsicle out here.”
That earns me a chuckle, and Michael graciously agrees to sit and wait for doughnuts and coffee. I get him a spot at a nice little table right by a heater and I can tell how tired he was by how relieved he is to lower himself into his chair.
My phone buzzes again and I slide it out, but it’s only Mandy. I reject the call, feeling kind of bad about it, but I know she’ll text if there’s an emergency or something. She probably just wants to chat.
“Do you need to get that?” Michael asks.
“Oh, no, no,” I tell him. “It’s just my sister, I’ll call her back. Are you comfortable? Do you need anything?”
“I don’t need a thing,” he tells me, his eyes crinkling as he smiles. “Thank you, Darcy.”
“My pleasure,” I tell him. “See you in a minute.”
“Michael Lockwood,” a man calls out.
I turn to see a pair of older fellows heading his way. Hopefully they’ll chat with him and he won’t even miss me.
I manage to get to the bakery booth before the line gets out of control. The woman in line in front of me is holding hands with a little girl who looks to be five or six. She’s so excited about the doughnuts that she’s practically hopping in place.
I don’t blame her. Now that I’m in the line I can actually smell them and the fresh, yeasty scent is intoxicating. I wonder if I can coax Derek into eating one.
“Hey there,” the lady in front of me says. “Are you Derek Lockwood’s new fiancée?”
Talk about a small town.
“Um, yes,” I manage. “Darcy Keller.”
“I’m Lily Mendez,” she tells me. “I knew him back in school when I was Lily Wright. He was a couple of years ahead of me.”
“Wright,” I echo. “Are you Annabeth’s daughter?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she laughs. “How did you know that?”
“Derek literally just told me how much he loved bringing lasagna to your family when your mom broke her leg,” I explain, realizing just after I say it that it might be a weird thing to bring up.
“That lasagna was so good,” she says immediately, her eyes widening. “I actually remember it because my brothers went back for thirds, and Mom could hardly ever get them to sit and eat anything back then.”
“I’ll have to get him to teach me how to make it,” I say.
“Why would you do that?” Lily asks, arching a brow. “Just get him to make it for you.”
We both laugh, and her little girl finally turns away from the doughnut sign long enough to look up at me.
“Hi,” I say. “I’m Darcy.”
“I’m Lucia,” she tells me brightly. “I’m going to get doughnuts.”
“Me too, Lucia,” I tell her. “I heard they’re the best. And they smell so good.”
That makes her smile. But she turns back to the board with the doughnut list right away.
“Well, I’m happy for you, Darcy,” her mom says. “Derek Lockwood is a good guy, and so creative. You two aren’t thinking of moving back here, are you?”
In the city, I’m used to people finding out I’m Derek Lockwood’s assistant and being impressed. They’ll point out that he’s brilliant and powerful, or imply that he’s demanding and difficult—all of which you could make a good argument for. But this is something else.
Derek Lockwood is a good guy, and so creative…
That’s a side of him I’m seeing more of since coming here.
I’m so struck by her comment that it takes me a second to remember that she asked a question.
“Uh, I’m not sure,” I tell her honestly. “He’s got a lot going on in the city right now.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re here for the holidays,” she tells me. “His grandfather talks about him constantly. We really miss Derek around here.”
“Mommy, it’s our turn, it’s our turn!” Lucia squeaks.
Lily gives me a smile and then heads up to make her purchase while I swallow over the sudden lump in my throat.
I’m not normally such a sentimental fool. What’s going on with me lately? I feel like I’m fighting back tears at the drop of a hat since we got here.
When it’s my turn in line, I glance over my shoulder to see Michael holding court with five or six older guys. He looks so happy that it makes my heart full. There’s no need for tears today.
“What can I get for you?” the lady asks.
I order a dozen of the Christmas doughnuts and a whole tray of coffees in paper cups.
When I very slowly approach Michael’s table, balancing our feast, he looks up and gives me the warmest smile.
“Oh, what’s this?” one of the men asks. He’s wearing overalls under his coat and a big smile of his own.
“I thought I’d better get enough for everyone,” I tell him.
The others all make appreciative noises.
“I won the lottery with my new granddaughter-in-law, didn’t I?” Michael says approvingly.
I set everything out for them and whisper to Michael that I want to look in on Derek and J.B. for a second.
“I’ll save you a doughnut,” he tells me.
“Better make it two,” I tease.
Walking across the parking lot, I take in the sounds and sights of happy villagers, enjoying the day.
There are lines at the stands where people chat and sip hot cocoa or coffee, with kids scampering around in between.
Other booths have balloons and games kids can play to win miniature stuffed animals.
When I reach the other side I push open the door to the library and follow the sound of voices to a big sunny room overlooking the lawn and lot.
At the entry there’s a box with a slot in the top. It has the Mountain Angels logo, and a little note.
Give What You Will
I have no intention of trying to make an ornament, but I slide a small donation into the box anyway.
Just past the entry are some displays of items that have been donated for a silent auction, also to benefit the Mountain Angels.
Past that, dozens of tables are set up across the bright space and boxes of supplies line the walls.
I spot wooden beads, paints, quick-set clay, feathers, pinecones, plastic holly, miniature figures, and so many more fun things.
Based on the very different boxes, I’m guessing that these items were donated too.
I scan the tables until I find J.B. and Derek bent over something sparkly.
Moving closer, I see that it’s a golden sphere hung from a nearly invisible string. There are other spheres on the table too.
“Hi, guys,” I say softly when I reach them.
“Darcy,” J.B. says. “Are you going to make a decoration?”
“No, definitely not,” I tell her. “I just wanted to see what you two were making.”
Derek smiles at me over his daughter’s head and I feel that sense of rightness again, like I’m home whenever he’s near.
That’s just because I’ve worked for him for so long, I tell myself.
“It’s the solar system,” J.B. explains, sounding super enthused about it. “And it moves.”
“What?” I ask.
“Look,” she says. “Show her, Dad.”
Derek lifts the glittering golden ball by its string and J.B. picks up a wooden crescent that holds the strings for the other spheres. When she brings them close, they start to move around the little sun.
“How did you do that?” I whisper in awe.
“Magnets,” J.B. says softly.
It might really be magnets, but I can tell by her tone of voice that she’s thinking what I’m thinking.
It feels like magic.
It all feels like magic to me.