Page 30 of A South Hill Christmas Keepsake
Victoria hurried over, dark curls bouncing as she tugged on a jeweler’s loupe. She leaned in, studying the hinge and edges with care. “There’s a stamp on the clasp,” she said after a moment. “That’s Grandpa’s mark. He used it on all his custom engravings beginning in the fifties.”
“So it’s from here,” Hannah Leigh whispered.
Sandra nodded, nostalgia flickering in her eyes. “Definitely. I can go through the old ledgers to see if we can find who ordered it, but honestly that was a long time ago. Might take a bit. We’ve got eighty years of history in those books.”
“If you find anything, would you let me know?”
“Of course, sweetheart,” Sandra said, patting her hand. “If that locket has a story, it’s about time we heard the ending.”
Victoria snapped a quick photo for their records. “We’ll keep you posted. If it turns out this locket is part of that dogwood legend, imagine what a story that would be. Great for the shop, and the town. We might actually get the Hallmark movie made here. Your aunt has been writing letters for years trying to get them to bite. No luck yet.”
As Hannah Leigh stepped back into the cold, the bell jingled behind her. The idea of holding the very locket from a decades-old love story was so romantic, like she was carrying a heartbeat that didn’t belong to her.
Well, she’d confirmed the locket’s roots in South Hill, but there wasn’t much else to trace Ruthie Danvers and Henry Bell. She walked over to Dogwood Hall to meet up with Nate, and to see if maybe something new that could help was on theLove Left Behindboard.
The venue was buzzing when she arrived, and the number of cards and notes on theLove Left Behindboard had doubled overnight. She began reading them. Most were just silly things by people who just wanted to be a part of something, which was fine. It made her happy that it was an inviting thing to do. Some notes were heartbreaking, others funny, a few written in the shaky penmanship of second chances.
“You’re late, Parker.”
She turned to find Nate at her side, arms crossed, that familiar grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Had to make a stop.” She lifted her tote. “Harper’s Jewelry. Turns out the locket came from there. Sandra recognized her grandfather’s engraving stamp.”
Nate gave a low whistle. “So the story’s real?”
“Looks that way.”
He leaned in, scanning the board. “Small towns and secrets. They are always more connected than they look.”
They stood shoulder to shoulder, reading one note after another, until one caught her eye. Plain white paper, printed in block letters:
A man beneath the dogwood.
A broken heart.
A promise gone unkept.
Hannah Leigh swallowed. “You think this is the same story? About Ruthie and Henry.”
“Could be,” Nate spoke with easy warmth. “Or maybe this tree’s seen more heartbreak than we realized.”
When she looked up, he was watching her. The quiet between them stretched, charged and uncertain, full of something she wasn’t ready to name.
“You’ve got glitter on your cheek,” he said, reaching to brush it away. His fingers grazed her skin, light as breath.
Her pulse jumped. “Hazard of the job.”
His gaze went up and then dipped toward her lips. “Occupational perk for me.”
The mistletoe hanging over the entryway caught her eye, and she took a step back. “Seriously?”
“Hey, I didn’t put it there.” He leaned a fraction closer, his breath warm against the cool air between them.
Her heart raced, and his breath warmed her cheek.
“Hey, Coach!” a voice hollered.
They broke apart like guilty teenagers. A kid in a football jacket jogged up, grinning. “Mom says to remind you I’m going to be late to practice tomorrow.”
