Page 42 of A South Hill Christmas Keepsake
Hannah Leigh breathed a sigh of relief, and Nate ran over to help Mr. Hollis.
The rest of the afternoon was a blur. Hannah Leigh still divvied her time hustling between events, the cookie contest where one tray of snowman cookies had suspiciously turned into reindeer heads. The wreath judging nearly came to blows when the judges couldn’t agree on how to score bow placement, and the sled rides ran long because every child in town begged for one more loop.
Everywhere she turned, Nate was there. Handing her a mug of cocoa. Holding a ladder steady while she adjusted twinkle lights. Grinning when Birdie announced to anyone within earshot that “romance was brewing faster than a kettle of cider.”
By dusk, Hannah Leigh’s legs ached, her hair smelled of pine and pralines, and her phone buzzed with more reminders than she could handle. But when she paused at the edge of the square and saw the town lit up like a thousand memories stitched together, she felt a lump in her throat.
This was South Hill. Sparkling. Messy. Hopeful.
And right in the middle of it, Nate Collier.
Back inside the tent, Aunt Winnie packed up the last pralines, Birdie hummed off-key carols while sweeping sequins, and Nate carried a stack of leftover craft supplies toward the door.
Hannah Leigh reached for her coat, but her gaze lingered on Birdie’s text.
BIRDIE: Margaret Jane agreed to meet.
The locket. The tree. The secrets.
For all the cocoa tubs and carols, for all the sugar and sleigh rides, there was a romantic mystery waiting just beneath the sparkle, and her lonely heart couldn’t wait to hear about it.
And Hannah Leigh also knew, deep down, that tonight’s festival frenzy was only the beginning.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Hannah Leigh felt a knot of anxiety tighten in her stomach as she approached the door.
A fresh pine wreath hung on the door of Margaret Jane’s condo. Beside her, Aunt Winnie tightened the red ribbon on a tin of pralines.
“You ready, honey?”
“As I’ll ever be.” Hannah Leigh tugged her scarf loose and knocked.
The door opened. Margaret Jane, wearing a red, buttoned cardigan with a pretty silver angel brooch. Her blue eyes carried the calm of someone who’d weathered plenty.
“Come on in,” Margaret Jane said, warm but careful. “No sense catching a cold.”
The living room was tidy, almost too tidy, like one of those Airbnbs that are sparse and void of anything personal. Only one picture graced the mantel. A young woman wearing a plaid dress, smiling beneath the Colonial sign.
Winnie set the pralines on the table. “A little thank you for jumping in and helping with the choir, and for that lovely solo.”
Margaret Jane tugged on the ribbon and opened the tin. “They look delicious. Thank you. Have a seat.”
Hannah Leigh sat down and then waited a beat before reaching inside her coat pocket and setting the oval locket in front of Margaret Jane. It was risky to pretend they didn’t know who the locket belonged to, but it was the best way to shake out the intertwined stories. “I found this locket near the old dogwood. Do you recognize the people in the photographs inside?”
A faint breath caught. She turned it over with a trembling hand, tracing the faint engraving. “So beautiful,” she whispered, opening it. “But no, I don’t know these people.”
Hannah Leigh hesitated. “Someone said you might have had some history with that tree. A love story?”
“I definitely have a story,” she smiled, bittersweet. “But it’s mine, not theirs.” She folded her hands, gazing past them out the window. “I was eighteen. He was twenty. We thought we had forever figured out. We didn’t.”
“Don’t we all think we have all the answers at that age?” Aunt Winnie teased.
“First met under that dogwood. Me reading, him chasing an overthrown ball. Years later we found each other again at the train station. My father had passed, and somehow he filled that quiet. We were inseparable for weeks while I helped settle the estate.”
“Young love always feels like destiny,” Winnie said as if she’d lived that too.
“Until it doesn’t.” A wistful laugh had her shaking her head. “His family didn’t approve. That Christmas he asked if I’d meet him under the dogwood. He wanted to elope. We’d figure out the rest later.”
