Page 20 of Festive Faking
Chapter 8
Mac
It was easy tosee that Aspen cared deeply, not only for this town but for its residents. She’d been stiff for days, but as soon as we hit Main Street, she visibly relaxed for the first time since we’d left LA. This place offered her comfort, and seeing her smile warmed something deep within my soul. I wanted to witness it again and again. More than anything, I wanted to be the cause of her happiness.
You’ve got a long way to go. She barely tolerates you at best, and only because you’re helping her in a pinch.
I was transfixed, watching her scamper off to help a young woman unsuccessfully attempting to navigate a stroller through the crowd. It spoke to the kind person she was. I’d seen it time and time again during our time together at school. She was the first to jump in when one of our classmates was stuck on a project, offering help and never expecting something in return.
Aspen was selfless, and in the world I’d grown up in, that was a non-existent quality. Maybe that’s why I was so drawn to her.She was the antithesis of everything I’d ever known. Her innate goodness called to me like a beacon in the dark guiding me home.
I could have stared at her all night, but a cleared throat to my right had me remembering the task I’d promised Aspen I would complete, and a quick peek had me realizing a line had formed behind me.
Turning back to Rose, I offered her a smile. “Sorry about that.”
The middle-aged woman’s brown eyes sparkled as she waved me off. “I’ll hear none of that. Warms my heart to see Aspen with a young man so smitten he can’t tear his eyes away.”
A rush of heat warmed my cheeks. “That obvious, huh?”
“Only to those of us who have known an all-consuming love. We know what signs to watch out for.” Rose winked.
Love might be a bit of a stretch, but I couldn’t deny Aspen occupied every available space in my brain.
“About those ornaments.” I steered the conversation back to more neutral territory.
Rose made her way behind the makeshift stand, pulling a ceramic horse figurine from beneath a hidden shelf and placing it on the tabletop. Since I didn’t have a reserved ornament, I chose a simple red and green striped peppermint candy one from the remaining selection.
“How much do I owe you?” I reached into my back pocket and pulled out my wallet.
“Whatever you’re able,” she replied.
I froze, a stack of bills in my hand. “There’s no set price?”
Rose shook her head. “We run on donations. No child or family should feel like less at the holidays because of their financial status, so everyone gets to hang an ornament regardless of their ability to contribute.”
Well, color me impressed. This place took community to a new level.
“Tell me, Rose. What do the donations go toward?”
“The church runs a program to ensure all our youth have gifts under the tree on Christmas morning.” Her chest puffed up with pride. “When folks are down on their luck, they don’t have to worry about their little ones losing faith in the magic of the holidays and their belief in Santa Claus.”
The idea of a child questioning Santa because their parents couldn’t afford toys? It was like a punch to the gut.
Thumbing through the cash I held, I did a quick count. “How many kids are you serving this year?”
“Ten across four families.”
I handed over a stack of hundreds, and her eyes grew large before she held up both hands in protest. “Oh, no. That’s too much.”
Shaking my head, I countered, “It’s not enough. Do you have somewhere I can donate electronically?”
Rose’s mouth dropped open. “You want to givemore?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I don’t know what to say.” She placed a hand to her chest.
“Just promise me those kids are going to have the most incredible Christmas of their lives.”
