Page 63 of Tied Up In Tinsel
Ruby popped up from her seat, twirling around the table to show off her sparkly tutu. “Look what I’m wearing, Miss Sloane!”
Sloane clapped her hands, cheering Ruby on. “You look like the prettiest Christmas star.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, leaning back, watching Ruby glow with joy under the attention.
The three of us fell into easy conversation, laughter flowing naturally, until a sharp tap on the microphone echoed through the room, pulling everyone’s gaze toward the stage.
“Attention, everyone—we’re ready to get started.” The mayor’s voice carried through the room, commanding just enough authority to quiet the hum of chatter. Slowly, the conversations died down, and soon the packed ballroom fell into a hush.
Tables were already lined with food, the buffet stretching along the far wall, the scent of roasted meats, spiced vegetables, and warm bread rolls filling the air.
Mr. Hatchman launched into a heartfelt speech. He thanked the townspeople for coming together, reminded us all of the joy in the season, and—of course—showered praise on his wife, his children, and the little town he was so proud to lead. His words were cheerful, sentimental in a way that made even me smile.
Then, he added, “And a special thanks to Annie Cringle for coordinating such a beautiful evening and blessing us with her creative dishes and catering.”
Ruby tugged on my sleeve, her little eyes wide as she pointed toward the stage. She mouthed,He’s talking about Mom.
The pride in her voice, even without the sound, tightened my chest.
When the mayor wrapped up, we were instructed to sit tight until the tables were released, one by one. Ruby and I were near the end, but she didn’t complain any more than before. When it was finally our turn, I helped her pile her plate high with food before carrying it carefully back to the table while she skipped happily through the crowd, weaving between adults with all the grace of a little elf.
By the time we sat down, both of us were ready to dig in.
The first bite stopped me cold. Annie’s cooking… it was something else. The flavors were layered, rich but balanced, the kind of food that made you close your eyes just to savor it. Each dish on the plate was thoughtful, comforting yet refined.
Ruby didn’t hold back. She devoured her food with enthusiasm, sauce from the pasta smudged across her chin, not a care in the world. I laughed under my breath, snagged her napkin, and wiped the corners of her mouth.
Around us, the low murmur of conversation carried words of praise.Incredible food.Best party yet.How does she do it?
Pride swelled in my chest. That was my Annie. The woman who’d run herself ragged for the past two weeks, pulling long days and late nights to make sure this night went perfectly. Her mind, her talent, her heart—she’d poured it into every dish, every detail.
After we ate, Ruby and I started a little game on her coloring sheets, her giggles bubbling up as I pretended to get all the answers wrong on purpose. It was simple, easy, and I wasenjoying myself more than I ever expected at a town holiday party.
Then I felt a light tap on my shoulder.
When I looked up, the air left my lungs in one sharp exhale.
Annie stood beside me, and I swore I had never seen anything so breathtaking.
Her hair was pinned back loosely behind her ears, just the front strands tucked away, while the rest fell in soft, cascading waves down her back. The dress she wore was a deep, elegant green that made her skin glow. The fabric draped over her curves with effortless grace, hugging in the right places and flowing in others, like it had been made for her alone.
She was radiant. Confident. Untouchable.
I swallowed hard, my throat dry as dust. I reached for my glass and all but chugged it down, desperate for something to ease the lump that had lodged itself there.
Because God help me—Annie Cringle in that dress was enough to undo every last bit of composure I thought I had.
Annie laughed, smoothing her hand down the front of her dress. “Well? What do you think?”
“You look beautiful, Mom!” Ruby piped up before I could even form words.
Beautiful didn’t cut it. Not by a long shot.
I leaned back in my chair, staring at Annie, shaking my head like I couldn’t quite believe what I was seeing. “A work of art,” I finally managed, standing to take her hand and give her a playful spin.
She twirled, the green fabric of her dress catching the light, and I drank in every last detail—every curve, every shimmer, every soft line of her that seemed meant to undo me.
“You look pretty handsome yourself,” she teased as she leaned in, placing both of her hands flat against my chest.
