Page 18 of A South Hill Christmas Keepsake
“You don’t have my years of experience,” Birdie said, straightening her shoulders. “You and Nate make quite the couple too, if you ask me. Now, shush. It’s impolite to talk during a movie.”
She didn’t appreciate being scolded, since Birdie had been the one who started the conversation to begin with. That old woman was about as subtle as a firecracker in a quiet church, but she had excellent intuition.
The song ‘Sleigh Bells’ played as the opening credits of the movie rolled.
She’d just nestled down in her chair when someone walked down the center aisle carrying a box of popcorn and took a seat two rows up. She’d know the silhouette of that person anywhere. Nate. The carpenter, as Birdie put it.
And even all the Christmas cheer couldn’t squash the niggling in Hannah Leigh’s gut about what Birdie had said. Especially the part about her and the carpenter, because that was a little terrifying.
CHAPTER TEN
You were never too old to love movie night at the Colonial Theater. Hannah Leigh still adored the way sound filled every corner of the century-old theater and how no one minded a little whispered commentary. But tonight, even that warm hum of nostalgia couldn’t quiet the restless beat in her chest.
When the final credits rolled, she lingered, not quite ready to face the man sitting a few rows ahead. Aunt Winnie had been right—Nate wasn’t the same boy she’d known as a teenager—but that didn’t mean she was ready to trust her heart again. Especially with Birdie’s words still buzzing around in Hannah Leigh’s head.
She slipped out a side door into the crisp night air. The cold met her like a sigh, quiet and steady. Flakes drifted beneath the lamplight, slow and silver, twirling on a soft winter breeze.
“The first snowfall of the year,” she whispered, tilting her face toward the sky.
Downtown South Hill looked ready for a Christmas card photo. Even the police station was in on the fun, decked out with antlers on the patrol car mirrors and a red nose on the grill. A box markedOperation Christmas Cheer: Evidence Dropoverflowed with toys and coats. Somewhere down the block, a speaker played “Silent Night,” its melody threading through the stillness.
“Hey, are you okay?”
The voice startled her, but she recognized it instantly. Nate.
She turned, forcing a smile. “Hey. I’m great. Just appreciating the view.”
Under the lamppost across from Harper’s Jewelry, he looked every bit the hometown Christmas card come to life with that easy grin curving beneath a trace of scruff, flannel collar turned up, and snow dusting his dark hair and broad shoulders.
“You marched out of the theater like someone saidDie Hardwas the best Christmas movie,” he teased.
“No one dared,” she said. “But the praline-to-popcorn combo was my undoing.”
“Then you need hot cocoa. The smallest size. Doctor’s orders.”
“You’re a doctor now?”
“Only when the prescription’s chocolate. And that I have two cups in hand already didn’t hurt.” He handed her one.
“Fair enough.” She sat beside him on the frosty bench. From there, the LOVE sign rose in the distance by the railroad museum, the metal L still shaped from an old train crossing. “Were you waiting for me?”
“More like hoping to cross paths again.” Nate looked away for a moment. “I’ve been thinking about the locket. Do you really think someone buried it there a long time ago?”
“Hard to say,” she said. “Remember how rain used to wash down that hill? Mud could have hidden and uncovered it a dozen times over the decades.”
“True.”
“Birdie overheard us talking about it,” she added with a grin. “She must’ve caught part of it while stringing garland by the front doors. Now she’s made it her holiday mission to help solve the mystery.”
He groaned. “She’s got the best heart, and the worst boundaries.”
“I think she means well.”
“Shemeans headlines.”
“True.” For a moment, the air between them warmed.
When she met his eyes, the notion she’d been chasing vanished clean out of her head. Heat climbed her neck before she pulled herself together. “Would you—uh—help me figure it out?”
