Page 36 of Almost Ours
Almost.
“I’m going to do my rounds,” Benny announced, tugging his scarf tighter as if preparing for battle. “You know, scope out the competition. And Harper–” he pointed a gloved finger at me– “watch out for Linda. She’s had it out for me ever since I beat her at the bake off in 2018. Don’t let her near our booth, or so help me–”
“Linda? From the knitting club?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes,thatLinda.” His voice dropped like he was whispering classified information. “She’s sneaky, Harper. Last year she ‘accidentally’ knocked over our marshmallow tower display. Coincidence? I think not.”
I bit back a laugh. “Got it. Sabotage watch is on.”
Benny narrowed his eyes, clearly not convinced I grasped the seriousness of the situation. “This isn’t a joke. The woman’sgot a black belt in passive-aggressive sabotage.” He scanned the crowd, his shoulders tense. “Stay vigilant.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, giving him a mock salute.
Satisfied, Benny set off with determined strides, weaving through the clusters of people with the precision of a seasoned general. I watched him go, shaking my head as I turned back to the display, adjusting the cookies so the snowman ones were front and center.
The wind picked up, rustling the fabric of the booth and sending a shiver down my spine. I pulled my coat tighter around me and glanced over my shoulder, eyes sweeping across the festival grounds.
The entire square was beginning to glow with that unmistakable kind of magic only winter could conjure. Strings of warm white lights were draped from booth to booth like a canopy of stars, casting a golden hue over everything. Wreaths hung on the lampposts, each one dotted with holly and tiny bells that jingled softly with each gust of wind. A group of volunteers was tying the final touches onto the large evergreen tree in the middle of the square–garlands, ribbons, a handmade star that swayed gently at the top.
The scent of cinnamon and roasted chestnuts drifted from the booth across the way, where a pair of older women were handing out samples with gloved hands and wide smiles. Nearby, a man was stacking firewood beside a small bonfire pit, the rising smoke curling into the air like a welcome sign.
I spotted familiar faces–neighbours chatting, shop owners offering samples, a pack of teenagers huddled around the hot cocoa stand–and for a second, the whole town felt impossibly small and incredibly full.
Not long after, Mrs. Knox arrived with Connor, both bundled up against the chilly December air. Connor was practically waddling in his puffy jacket and snow pants, his cheeks pinkfrom the cold, while Mrs. Knox looked as warm and cheerful as ever, her wool coat neatly buttoned and her grey hair tucked under a festive red hat.
“Look who I found wandering around,” she teased as she and Connor approached the booth.
“Mrs. Knox, thank you so much,” I said sincerely, stepping out from behind the table to greet them.
“Oh, it’s nothing, dear,” she said, waving a hand as she pulled Connor’s toque over his ears. “I’m happy to help. Besides, this boy is always such a joy. We had quite the snowman-building session this morning, didn’t we?”
Connor’s eyes sparkled with excitement as he nodded enthusiastically. “He’s the biggest snowman we’ve ever made!”
“That’s because I helped,” Mrs. Knox said with a wink.
I laughed, my heart swelling with gratitude. “You’re the best, Mrs. Knox. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Oh, hush now,” she scolded gently, her eyes softening. “I love having you two around. You keep me young.” She glanced at the booth, her eyes lighting up. “And this looks beautiful! Did you and Benny do all this?”
“All Benny, honestly,” I admitted, gesturing to the perfectly arranged rows of cookies and cocoa. “He’s got an eye for this stuff.”
Mrs. Knox chuckled. “That boy always was a perfectionist. I remember when he was Connor’s age, he’d spend hours decorating his Christmas tree, making sure every ornament was just right.”
I smiled, my heart tightening. Mrs. Knox had been a lifesaver since Connor and I moved here. A retired teacher in her mid-sixties, she lived alone now, her husband having passed away a few years back. Though she had kids and grandkids, they lived hours away, and she didn’t see them as often as she’d like. Somehow, she’d unofficially adopted Connor and me into herlife, offering to babysit, bring over meals, or just lend a listening ear.
Mrs. Knox brushed snow from her coat as she prepared to head home. “I’d stay longer, but my old bones are begging for a warm blanket and some hot tea,” she teased, her eyes twinkling.
“Thank you again, Mrs. Knox,” I said, giving her a quick hug. “I know it’s a lot to ask.”
“Oh, pish,” she waved a hand, her cheeks rosy from the cold. “You two have become like family to me. And besides,” she winked at Connor, “who else is going to help me build record-breaking snowmen?”
Connor beamed. “We’ll make an even bigger one next time!”
“I'll hold you to that,” she laughed, ruffling his hat. “You two have fun now. And don’t eat too many cookies.”
“No promises,” Connor said, his mischievous grin on full display.
Mrs. Knox’s laughter floated behind her as she walked away, her red hat bobbing through the crowd until she was out of sight.
