Page 77 of About Last Christmas
His nose wrinkles as if that’s worse.
Smiling, I smooth a hand over his lapel. “You fill out this jacket nicely.” Almost too nicely. He’s wearing an ivory coat with trim that’s the same shade as his trousers. “Look at us.” I gesture at our reflection in the mirror above the dresser. I find it amazing we both chose colors that blended well. “We unintentionally match.” And I realize that sums up our relationship. Nothing about our meeting last Christmas had been planned. Two random strangers from two different worlds collide beside one old street clock. Yet, somehow, we’re good together.
“We do.” He looks at me as if he understands the subtext. His hand slips around my waist, the warmth of his palm seeping into my skin. We’re smiling at each other with this unreserved energy like we’re in fifth grade, and he just asked me to sit by him in the cafeteria, during the last week of school. Growing up, we always had assigned lunch seats except for those final days. That was when everyone asked their crushes to meet them at their table. The gossip would fuel the summers. But here Leo and I stand, aware we’ll probably spark rumors in Silver Creek—because that’s just the way it is in small towns—but we only seem to care about sharing our chicken nuggets. Figuratively. Although if he ever literally offered me nuggets, I would do my part.
We make our way downstairs and, after we surrender our Dough Ball tickets, we’re granted entrance into the convention hall. I expected the room to be gauche, like our suite, but it’s surprisingly pretty.
The recessed lighting is dim, allowing rows of bistro bulbs to offer a soft glow. The pillars framing the room are wrapped in pastel pink and ivory fabric. A wide center row leads to the dance floor in the back area, with a DJ station sitting to the side. Tables, draped in ivory with crystal candied centerpieces, are strategically situated throughout. While this aesthetic is top tier, I’ve come expecting to see pastries and baked goods in abundance, considering it’s called a Dough Ball. To my disappointment, I only spot one dessert table. What’s up with fancy events not delivering the good stuff?
I blow out a sigh and resort to people-watching as we wait in line for food, which is a buffet-style ordeal. Attendees are either dressed absurdly, like the woman wearing a gingerbread crown, or elegant, like … “Candy Cane Kelly,” I blurt.
“What?” Leo dips his head close to hear me over the music.
“Nothing.” Except there’s a woman, speaking to a group of guests near the dance floor, who looks exactly like my Hallmark Barbie Collection ornament that Gran got me when I was little. She’s wearing an A-line silhouette in crimson with white panel cut-outs that swish about her long legs. Even her hairstyle is the same, her dark waves cascading down her back with a few locks framing her face. She’s stunning, in a way that women stare, trying to find fault, and men stare because there isn’t any. I’m also thinking she’s someone important because, yeah, she’s got that air about her.
Leo and I load our plates as if we hadn’t eaten in weeks. I snag the last two-person table while Leo fetches our drinks. A man walks by wearing a cellophane jacket, making him look like a giant candy wrapper. I press my lips together to stifle a laugh,but hisclothesmake that all-too-familiar crinkling sound as he passes, and I’m too tired for self-control.
Leo returns, placing my Sprite in front of me.
I smile my thanks. “This feels otherworldly.” As soon as Leo sits, I’m reaching for a roll. Ah, hot carbs. “It’s like we’re extras in a live action of Candy Crush.”
Leo shakes his head with a laugh. “Yeah, I don’t think anyone would believe us if we tried.”
We are both absorbed in our food, which is actually good, but then, I sip my Sprite and nearly spit it out.
“What’s wrong?” He sets down his fork.
I examine my glass. “This tastes like salt.”
“The fountain must be out of syrup. What else can I get you?” He’s already up on his feet before I can protest.
“Anything’s fine.” I just want to get this bitter flavor from my mouth.
He strides toward the drink station, and I allow my gaze to follow him as he moves effortlessly through the crowd, that is, until he gets stopped by Candy Cane Kelly.
She’s smiling at him, not in a seductive or even a flirty way, but like she knows something he doesn’t. I can’t explain it. I take another bite of my roll and watch as they chat like old friends. Maybe they are. I’m expecting jealousy to twist my gut because she’s gorgeous and probably never in her life compared her skin to raw poultry. But there’s no twisting.
Because of Leo.
He’s offering polite smiles and contributing to the conversation, but he’s not looking at her the way he looks at me. As if he can sense my thinking of him, he glances my way and unleashes that signature grin. They finish their discussion, and Leo retrieves another drink. I don’t care if it’s bitter Sprite or flat Coke because I don’t think I’d be able to taste the difference. I’m numb in the best kind of way.
“Here you go.” He sets my drink down and reclaims his seat. “Guess who I was talking to.” He jerks a thumb toward Candy Cane Kelly. “That’s Mrs. Langston.”
My mouth drops. “The pie lady? No way!” Mrs. Langston Pies are to Ohio what Marie Callander’s desserts are to the rest of the country. Since this state is all about loyalty to their own, households have been buying Mrs. Langston Pies for decades. I squint at her. “How does she not look a hundred years old?”
He laughs. “Because she’s not the original Mrs. Langston. She’s the granddaughter.”
“Ah, that explains it.”
“It also explains this event. The Langston family owns this inn.” He cuts into his steak. “She told me her grandmother once worked in the kitchen here and?—”
“It’s where she made her first pie.” Because of antiques, I’m always fascinated by origin stories. “And that’s why they celebrate SugarFest.”
He smiles at my enthusiasm. “Right on both accounts. Most of the attendees are Langston employees or vendors.”
“Which is why it’s so crowded. And probably why we look so out of place.”
“As to that.” He tugs his lapels. “The reason she pulled me aside is because of my coat.”
