Page 14 of A South Hill Christmas Keepsake
“Happiness Zone.” “Tell us your tale!” “Love letters welcome!” “No names. No problem.”
“Not bad,” he said, nudging her lightly. “You’ve thought this through.” Still seemed unlikely to work, but he wasn’t about to say that.
“Thanks,” she said with a soft smile.“This tree’s carried that locket for years, like it knew one day the story would need to be told again.”
He looked at her instead of the sign, a grin tugging at his mouth. “Pretty sure this tree just found its headline,” he said. “Unless the mayor shows up. My Uncle Clarence has opinions about everything from garland symmetry to bulb wattage. I’m guessing this didn’t go through his approval committee?”
She shook her head, smiling. “I told you I came up with this idea last night.”
He winced playfully. “Well, brace yourself. That’s not gonna earn you any points.”
“Oh, please.” She tipped her chin toward him. “Let me guess. The mayor likes his trees like he likes his coffee. Bitter, plain, and best enjoyed alone.”
“Ha. Good guess.” Nate laughed, the sound echoing down the sidewalk. “You’re not wrong.”
And right on cue, the man himself strolled up the sidewalk, hands clasped behind his back, scarf knotted tight as a necktie.
“Well, well,” Mayor Collier said, eyeing the sign with angst. “Happiness zone? I see y’all have taken some creative liberties.”
From where Nate stood, Hannah Leigh’s smile was sunshine and mischief rolled into one. “Just making spirits bright,” she said, and even Clarence’s scowl seemed to lose some wattage.
The mayor gave a single “hmph,” muttered something about city code, and kept walking.
As Uncle Clarence cleared the corner, Nate blew out a breath. “Honestly, that went better than I expected.”
Hannah Leigh planted her hands on her hips. “A code violation? It’s Christmas.”
“That’s my uncle. He’s been allergic to joy since I was a kid.”
“Well it’s time someone reminded him what it feels like,” she said, tapping her coat pocket where the locket rested. “Doubt he’d appreciate something as romantic as love letters or lost lockets.”
“You think a locket’s romantic?” Nate asked, teasing.
“You don’t?”
“Me?” He kept his face as straight as he possible “I’d never argue with romance.”
She gave him a look that said she wasn’t buying it. “Sure you wouldn’t.”
“Okay, so kidding aside. How is this sign going to help you find the owner of that locket?”
Hannah Leigh looked hesitant but then pulled a paper sign from the box she’d carried over. “This.”
She pinned it at the top, smoothing it flat. “See. It says,‘Share your favorite hometown romance story, or a love you never got to say goodbye to.’”
Not exactly subtle. “You think this will work?” He stepped back to take in the whole thing.
“I do,” Hannah Leigh said. “People love to share stories. Especially when they think no one is listening. And if it doesn’t work, I’ll bake shortbread cookies shaped like hearts and sit here to lure folks in.”
“Maybe that should be Plan A.” Nate couldn’t help teasing her. It was like sixth grade all over again. That odd sensation when you like someone, but don’t know if they like you. “I actually think this is charming. We should spread the word down at the theater and at Bringleton’s tomorrow.”
“You’ll help?”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” he said. “Let’s pack up and get out of here.” He couldn’t help watching her.
She lingered by the sign, brushing her fingers across the bark of the dogwood like she was half-listening for its secrets.
He didn’t know what story the locket carried, but the way she looked at it made him believe it mattered. He hadn’t meant to hurt her feelings, but he could tell she was a little miffed. “You know, you have a point. The locket might be more than a coincidence.” A soft breeze carried the smell of kettle corn and cinnamon, tugging her gaze toward the square.
