Page 47 of A South Hill Christmas Keepsake
“I just got the call,” Hannah Leigh said, breathless, amazed. “I applied for that dream job in Charlotte before I came here, and they want me in Charlotte. In person.” She clapped her hands together, barely able to contain her excitement. “It’s the position I’ve dreamed of. Managing corporate events. Not a contract for a single project. A real seat at the table.”
Aunt Winnie smiled, kind but guarded. “I’m proud of you, honey. But Charlotte? This place is brighter since you came home. A lot of people would miss you.”
The thought landed fast, like a kick to his ribs.I’d miss her.
“Aunt Winnie, you knew this was temporary.” Hannah Leigh’s voice softened. “I’ve worked hard for a chance like this. I have to see it through.”
Winnie said. “Don’t let chasing the next big thing make you forget what you’ve already caught.”
Hannah Leigh didn’t hesitate. “Right now, nothing matters as much as getting that job.”
The words hit Nate like a body check he didn’t see coming. He stepped back, letting a cluster of festival-goers drift between them. He didn’t want her to see his face.
On the bandstand, the mayor tested the mic. A squeal of feedback nicked the air, then settled. Nate shoved his hands into his coat pockets and walked along the edge of the crowd, trying to make the noise in his head quiet behind the night’s good cheer.
He’d warned himself not to get reckless. Whatever this was with Hannah Leigh, spark, flirt, early-stage miracle of a love that might actually last forever…maybe it belonged to December and fairy lights. But when he heard her say,“nothingelse matters as much”, he’d felt the floor shift. Turns out he’d already stepped in deeper than he meant to.
He let the crowd move him closer to where the tree stood ready. He focused on the tall evergreen. Fresh-cut, trucked in from two counties over, strung to the top, ornaments from every corner of town tucked into its boughs. No lights would be lit until the big day. At the very top sat an angel fashioned from lace and tinfoil, a tradition older than most of the folks gathered here tonight.
The crowd’s murmur tightened into a hush as the program started.
The mayor said a few words, as he always did, and then turned it over to Hannah Leigh. “Let’s bring up our festival lead,” the mayor said, voice warming. “Miss Hannah Leigh Parker.”
Applause lifted. She passed Nate and squeezed his sleeve. “I’m ready, cross your fingers!”
“You’ve got this,” he said, and felt the truth of it all the way down.
She reached the podium and didn’t need to tap the mic. She had them from the second she looked out across the crowd.
“Good evening, South Hill,” she said, voice steady.
Everyone cheered. He stared, feeling a little sick.
“When I came home in December, I thought I was just here to help with the festival.” A beat. “But this town has a way of reminding you who you are, who we are together.”
The square leaned closer. Nate did too.
She kept it simple, talking about the many hands that pitched in, recipes that showed up on the right porch at the right time, neighbors teaming up for the many contests. “Don’t the lampposts look amazing?”She talked about Aunt Winnie’s pralines and the town’s connection to Minnie Pearl, even singing out a ‘How-dee!’ in her honor that received a round of applause. When she cited Birdie’s “encouragement” of the choir, she got a bigger laugh. Then Hannah Leigh’s tone softened, and something in the crowd did, too.
“This year we learned stories don’t disappear,” she said. “Sometimes they wait for the right person to listen or the right season to tell them.”
Nate’s gaze slid to the front row. Margaret Jane stood next to Birdie and Winnie, jaw steady, chin tilted up. Uncle Clarence, hard-nosed mayor to everyone else, watched from the side of the stage. For once his bluster was gone. He looked…human.
“And tonight,” Hannah Leigh said, “we remember real love doesn’t vanish. It might hide. It might be delayed. But it doesn’t quit on us.”
A sound like a half sigh and half yes, moved through the crowd. Somebody near Nate whisperedamen.
“Mayor, would you like to come do the honors?” Hannah Leigh asked from the stage.
He lifted his chin, wearing a relaxed smile that Nate had never seen on him. “No, ma’am. I think you should get the honor this year. Please proceed.”
“Wow! Okay.” Hannah Leigh laid her hand on the brass lever. “Let’s start this countdown and light up South Hill and make it the best one yet.”
She began the countdown. “10…9…” and the crowd powered over the mic with the rest all the way to a long-winded one, and Hannah Leigh flipped the switch.
The tree came to life in a wash of colorful bulbs as the crowd erupted in cheers, whistles, and applause. Children shrieked with delight. Couples hugged close, but all Nate could hear was the heartbeat in his ears.
His gaze stayed fixed on Hannah Leigh, her face lit by the tree’s glow, her eyes wide, her lips parted in a smile so radiant he felt the warmth clear down to his boots.How can you even consider leaving me?
