Page 15 of No Business Like Snow Business

We heated the soup and ate it with warm bread rolls in front of the television.

“How’s your quilt going?” I asked.

Quilting was a mystery to me. For months and months, Grandma lugged around a bag full of fabric scraps, and nothing seemed to happen. Then, at some point, it was suddenly a blanket. I’d given up trying to judge when the scraps were at that stage. There was a science to quilt making, or maybe some kind of alchemy, that I just didn’t get.

“It’s coming along great,” Grandma said.

“Are you going to keep this one?”

She hummed. “I don’t think this is the one.”

Grandma had started off quilting when she retired so she could make a bedspread. Except each quilt she made wasn’t quite right for her, and just happened to be perfect for someone else. She’d never yet kept a quilt she’d made, but she loved working on them just as much as she loved giving them away.

“When are you going to make me one?” I teased.

She smiled at me. “When I find the perfect fabric that matches your eyes. You have your mom’s eyes, Harvey.”

“I know.”

Grandma’s smile wavered but didn’t lose any of its warmth. It didn’t matter how long ago it had been, we both missed my mom. It didn’t hurt the way it had when I was a kid, when the pain was still raw and new, but at the same time it was a pain that would never fully go away. It had transformed into something less sharp, and it came wrapped in more happy memories these days than sad ones, but it would always hurt just a little, and that was fine. That was how you measured love, I guessed: by both the light and the shadow it left behind.

I thought of Sterling, and of the way his expression tightened when he mentioned his family. I thought of how he’d described his family Christmases in terms of decorators and tie colors, and of how he’d struggled to explain why he was looking for Freddy in secret.

It wasn’t a secret to me: Sterling was looking for more light than shadow. Maybe he hadn’t realized it yet, but I hoped he’d figure it out, because one thing I was already sure of was that Sterling Van Ruyven could use some more light in his life.

five

STERLING

My plan after Harvey dropped me off at the hotel was to get some food delivered and go to bed, but I found myself restless after spending so long poring over old newspapers, and it didn’t take long to realize I needed to walk off some of my energy. So instead of ordering delivery, I put on my coat and scarf and walked back downtown. I ate at The White Elephant, the first pub I came to, sitting at a small table by the fireplace to enjoy a Scottish meat pie and a beer. The beer wasn’t one I knew—the menu told me it was from a local microbrewery—but it was delicious.

While I ate, I listened to the conversations from the tables around me. Some of my neighbors were tourists, going over the day’s events with bright smiles while they planned tomorrow’s. Some were clearly locals, talking about their jobs, their families, and the weather. I would have thought eating alone in a place filled with couples and families would be uncomfortable, but it wasn’t. It was nice catching small pieces of other people’s conversations, and sharing in the warm mood of the pub.

I should have invited Harvey to join me for dinner.

It was stupid, but the longer I spent in Christmas Falls the less it seemed over the top, and the more it seemed...hopeful.The message of Christmas, I supposed, was one of optimism, and the town itself seemed to be the sort of place where good things could happen. I thought of Freddy and wondered if he’d felt that too, when he’d come here well over thirty years ago. Had he found hope and joy here, if only for a little while? I hoped so.

I dawdled on my walk back to the hotel. Lights twinkled, and the faint strains of music played from the shops I passed, and laughter and light spilled out of doorways. The bells on the sleighs signaled the approach of reindeer. It really was beautiful here, infused with a warmth of spirit that even the cold night air couldn’t dull. I felt as though I’d fallen into another world, and it couldn’t have been more different than the one I was familiar with.

The real world came knocking almost as soon as I got back to the hotel, in the form of a phone call from my sister, Sarah.

“Hey,” I said, holding the phone awkwardly as I peeled off my gloves and scarf.

“Where are you, Sterling?” she asked, straight to the point as always. “I know you’re not in Chicago, because I just saw Declan’s Instagram and he’s in Aruba.”

Declan was the old fraternity brother I’d let everyone assume I was visiting.

“I’m taking some time for myself,” I said. I put her on speaker and sat down on the bed to take my shoes off. The modest hotel room was toasty warm after that cold walk back from downtown. “I’ll be back next week.”

But whereareyou?”

In a place so crazy you can hardly believe it exists.

“I’m in a little town called Christmas Falls,” I said.

“Where? Why?”

“I told you, I’m taking some time for myself, after Grandfather’s funeral.”

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