Page 48 of A South Hill Christmas Keepsake
He slid a glance toward the mayor and caught something he’d never seen before. Awe. Clarence’s attention had locked on Margaret Jane. She didn’t look away. For a long breath, they stood in that light, two people who’d finally run out of distance. Nate watched the years fall off his uncle. He stood straighter. Ready. Happy.
He didn’t trust himself to look at Hannah Leigh yet. He pushed forward through the crowd, the last of the applause fading into joyful noise.
She turned at his approach.
He braved a simple, “You did good,” he said.
“Wedid good,” she answered. “This has turned out better than I could’ve imagined.”
“Isthere a ‘we’?” The words came out rough. Honest and unpolished, like a board he hadn’t sanded yet.
“What?” Her eyebrows drew together. “Where did that come from?”
“I overheard you with Winnie.” He kept his voice low. “Charlotte. The interview. The big move. I just…” He let out a breath. “I needed to know if what’s been happening between us is just December.”
Her mouth opened, then closed. She looked past him, toward the crowd, toward the tree that everyone was so excited about.
“Were you going to tell me?” He tried to make it a question, not an accusation.
“Yes,” she said, too fast. Then, quieter, “Eventually. It’s just an interview. I’ve worked toward this for years. I applied for that job before I even came here.”
“I get it.” He nodded, fumbled for solid ground. “I thought we were both looking forward to more. Here.”
“Oh.” Hope flickered across her face, then caution. “You’ve been amazing, Nate. Our time together has been so great. But I can’t build my whole life around something that happened over a couple weeks working on a Christmas festival. This job is what I’ve always wanted. This is a tremendous opportunity for me.”
“Then you should chase it,” he said, and wished he didn’t sound like a coach giving permission. “It makes sense.”
Behind them carolers eased into a round ofHere Comes Santa Claus. He stepped back, giving her space, giving himself some, too.
“I just wish,” he said, almost to himself, “you’d looked at me once tonight the way you looked at that tree, like I was something you’d been waiting for.”
She flinched. “Nate—”
“Merry Christmas, Hannah Leigh.” The crowd shifted, and Nate moved with it into the steady stream heading away from the stage.
Past the cocoa line and the kids twirling under the strings of lights, Nate made his way to a quiet corner near the gazebo. For a man who avoided drama, his chest sure felt packed with it tonight.
Across the way, Margaret Jane spoke to the mayor. Her face had softened into a warm look of affection. Clarence’s posture had changed. He looked way less intense, more approachable. He nodded at whatever she said, and for a second his eyes went bright. Margaret Jane touched his arm, and Nate felt an old ache he hadn’t tagged until now: regret.
He understood how it happened. Two people think there’s all the time in the world. Then one harsh word, one foolish choice, a stretch of pride, and what should’ve been easy into a mess.
Don’t be them,he told himself. Then he rolled his eyes at the irony; five minutes ago, he’d been ready to sprint for the horizon.
This Christmas wasn’t just about lights on a tree. It was about a heart he hadn’t known was waiting. The girl he thought he’d let walk away a long time ago, and a future he couldn’t wait to unwrap. But it just slipped away.
He didn’t have answers. He cut away from the crowd and took the long way home, past Harper’s darkened display and the LOVE sign where some teenager tried to dip his girlfriend, failed, and they laughed.
Back at his place, he didn’t bother with lamps. He sat in the dark and let the quiet say what he couldn’t. The whistle Hannah Leigh had given him lay on the table, silver catching what little light sneaked through the blinds. He picked it up, turned it in his fingers, and set it down again.
“Guess that’s the truth about love,” he said to an empty room. “It waits until you stop running.”
He stared at the ceiling for a long while.Am I the one running now?The question sat with him, not pushy, not loud, just there.
Outside, the celebration continued until late. He pulled a blanket off the back of the couch and leaned his head against the cushion, eyes on the shadowed ceiling fan, heart finding a quiet, even beat.
Tonight had made one thing clear. That he wanted a future with Hannah Leigh in it. If Charlotte was a door she had to walk through, he would not be the hinge that squeaked. He’d let her go do the thing she’d spent years reaching for and trust that if they built something, it could stand up to a little distance.
Still, when he closed his eyes, he saw her at the podium, hand on the lever, voice sure. The tree had blazed because she had told it to. The town had answered because it believed her.
