Chapter 7
“Your dad.” Eryn’s eyes grew round as saucers.
“Is dressed as a reindeer.”
David Wynn waddled across the wagon bed, tossing candy into the crowd.
A rousing round of cheers ensued, and several people standing near Harlow began chanting his name. “David…David…David.”
Aunt Birdie, sporting an angel costume complete with feathery white wings and a golden halo above her head, twirled and swirled, tossing handfuls of candy and toy trinkets to the children.
Chance, dressed as a pup, proudly pranced down the street while Mort, looking sporty in his custom costume, stood next to Marty, his horse's tail wagging ninety miles an hour.
Festive music played from somewhere inside the wagon, a catchy little ditty about flying reindeer and angels.
“Over here!” Lottie bounced onto the tips of her toes, frantically trying to catch their attention.
Aunt Birdie spotted them first. She grabbed a handful of goodies from her bucket and tossed them in their direction.
David wobbled to the other side, giving them a half-hearted wave.
Harlow let loose a wolf whistle. “Lookin’ good, Pops!”
He rolled his eyes and jabbed his thumb toward his sister, who laughed and winked.
“Take a picture.”
Harlow grabbed her cell phone and snapped a photo right before someone’s head got in her way.
“Your dad looks happy,” Peyton joked.
“Right? I had no idea he and Aunt Birdie were dressing up too.”
“By design, I’m sure.” Lottie tapped the side of her forehead. “Your sister didn’t give him advance notice on purpose.”
Several more drays pulled by horses meandered down the main street. Santa looped back around for one last appearance before strolling off into the sunset.
The parade ended, and the festival got underway. Booths offering food, along with local arts and crafts, lined the sidewalks. All Harlow could think was that there were smiles for miles.
Marty, David and Aunt Birdie caught up with them, making their rounds to watch skits and shows, to sample the food and peruse the hand-crafted goods.
Harlow polished off a candy apple, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “You look very festive, Dad. I wonder who won the costume contest.”
“Santa,” Marty and Aunt Birdie echoed in unison.
“Chance and Mort came in a respectable third place,” David added. “The fireworks are starting.”
Harlow grew quiet while the national anthem started to play. As she gazed around, sudden tears welled up in her eyes. She couldn’t help but compare this Christmas to her last, spent at a private resort in the Caribbean. Robert’s choice, of course.
No tree. No decorations. No parades or parties…just the two of them on a warm-weather holiday. They hadn’t even exchanged gifts. It was like any other day, and right then Harlow realized how much she had missed out on. Friends, family, a close-knit community.
She had gained more friends in the last three months than she had in the last five years. It was the best Christmas gift Harlow could ever imagine, one without price tags or shopping trips. The true gifts were gifts she would never find in a store.
“Are you alright?” Eryn whispered in her ear.
Harlow nodded. “Yes. I’m better than all right. I’m counting my blessings, most of which are standing right here beside me.”
Her bestie gave her a quick hug. “At the risk of repeating myself for the umpteenth time, it’s good to have you home.”
“It’s good…wonderful…to be home.”
The grand finale, a dazzling array of red, white, blue, green and gold fireworks, filled the air. Streams of silver spirals floated to the ground, marking the end of the celebration.
“Time for the Christmas party to begin,” Harlow announced. “What better way to finish the day than to spend it with the Magnificent Mackies?”
The Mackies ran home to grab their gifts and goodies, giving Harlow a chance to make it back to Wynn Harbor Inn to put the final touches on her preparations.
Lottie, although an official Mackie, had decided to take David up on his offer for dinner in town. Harlow secretly speculated it was because the two planned to exchange gifts while the others weren’t around.
Aunt Birdie had noticed as well and made a comment.
“Are you coming by for the Mackies’ party?” Harlow asked her on the way home.
“Am I invited?”
“Of course you are. The more, the merrier.”
“I wasn’t planning on it. I don’t have gifts or cookies to exchange,” Birdie said. “Maybe I’ll hang out for the food and then skedaddle.”
“Sounds like a plan. You can grab a cookie or two while you’re at it.” Harlow and her aunt parted ways on the sidewalk out front.
She slipped inside and went straight to the kitchen, unloading the trays of munchies—finger foods including pinwheel wraps.
There was a pan full of barbecue chicken wings and another glass dish filled with Sloppy Joe mix ready to be warmed.
Trays of veggies and dip, cheese and crackers, fresh-cut fruit, along with a slab of ribs her father had smoked earlier, all waiting to be gobbled up.
Harlow finished arranging the dishes and turned Christmas music on. The doorbell rang. Noelle, Eryn, Peyton, Abby, Meg and Aunt Birdie arrived en masse. The chatter of cheerful voices filled the cottage.
Each of the guests placed their “Secret Santa” presents beneath the tree, twinkling with red, blue and green Christmas lights.
Harlow’s mother’s silver stained glass star shone down from the tippy top.
A mishmash of decorations had been lovingly placed on the branches…
ornaments Harlow had made in school, a paper ball with her first-grade photo, missing front tooth and all, smiling back.
So many memories were on display, some from even before Harlow was born.
The group assembled at the table she and her father had set up. Whimsical snowmen with smiling faces and dressed like Santa’s elves danced down the center. Candy cane sleighs with Santa, snowmen and reindeer held cards with each of the Mackies’ names in front of the chairs.
“The place settings are adorable.” Abby ran her fingertip over her name. “Did you make these?”
“Lottie helped me.”
Meg spun around. “Speaking of Lottie…where is she?”
“Dad invited her to a special dinner, just the two of them.”
Noelle let out a flirty whistle. “A romantic meal for two.”
“Aunt Birdie and I have put a damper on their weekly cards and casserole night, so I think they’re trying to sneak off for some time alone,” Harlow joked.
“Your father wouldn’t have it any other way,” Aunt Birdie said.
“Before I forget, I heard you put an offer in on Lighthouse Lane,” Peyton said. “You can fill us in while we eat.”
The women filled their plates, teasing Harlow about her claim she could burn water.
They all gathered at the table, thanking her for hosting their annual party.
“I love holiday traditions,” Harlow said.
“Why don’t we go around the room and share one of our favorite traditions?” Eryn suggested.
“What a great idea. I’ll start.” Meg shared how her family visited a local tree farm a week before Christmas to pick out their tree. “And then in the spring, we go back for the annual sprucing up the spruce and plant a tree to replace the one we cut down.”
“I love it,” Harlow said. “Who’s next?”
Around the table they went, sharing Christmas memories, some Harlow tucked away in the back of her mind for future reference when she had a family of her own.
During dessert, Peyton brought up the subject of Lighthouse Lane again. “The divorce went through, and you put an offer in on your dream home.”
“A backup offer. Allie Zehnder, the listing agent, helped me. I’m still waiting to hear back.” Harlow told them she’d heard the sellers were traveling and it might be a couple of days before she got confirmation.
“How solid is the first offer?” Abby asked. “Maybe it will fall through.”
Harlow crossed her fingers. “I hope so, but I’m not holding my breath.”
While the women talked, Peyton picked up her cell phone and began tapping the screen.
Noelle, curious to find out what she was up to, peered over her shoulder. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to find out who put the first offer in.”
“Peyton has all the right connections,” Eryn joked.
“Friends of friends who have friends. My reliable secret source is checking.”
The conversation picked back up with the Mackies offering renovation suggestions, all revolving around highlighting the magnificent lake views.
Tink. Peyton snatched her cell phone off the table. She tapped the top and made a choking sound.
“Uh-oh,” Harlow said. “You found out who it was.”
“I’m almost positive I know who put the offer in on Lighthouse Lane, and you’re not gonna believe who it was.”