Page 53 of A South Hill Christmas Keepsake
She turned and found Nate on the steps, her scarf folded over his arm like he knew she’d forget.
“You cold?” he asked, tucking it around her.
“Not in a way that needs fixing.”
They stood a moment and listened to the quiet. The church bell chimed the hour. Inside, chairs scraped and spoons tapped foil pans. The world kept going. Sweeter, somehow.
“Your aunt’s pocket gained ten pounds,” Nate said, grinning. “Recipe cards.”
“She’s gathering stories as much as instructions,” Hannah Leigh said. “We’ll print a dozen favorites in the back of the book the church is selling right after Christmas, then roll them into the big cookbook for the spring fundraiser. Pralines. Ambrosia. Mac and cheese. Brunswick stew. Those rolls, if the baker will talk.”
“Don’t forget those sweet potatoes,” he said. “When Victoria said the words ‘Vanilla paste’ it made three women reach for their phones like you’d handed out miracles.”
Her joy bubbled up, as clear and bright as church bells on Sunday morning. “I’ll wrangle the rest this week. After Christmas, you can be my chief taster.”
“I accept,” he said.
They went back in and helped close up. She rinsed serving spoons. He folded tables. Aunt Winnie tucked leftovers incontainers to take over to the senior center and patted her apron pocket as if balancing a ledger.
When she looked up, she tipped her head toward the door where Clarence and Margaret Jane stood with Birdie and the pastor. Margaret Jane’s cheeks were damp. Clarence’s jaw had eased. The pastor prayed a quiet blessing over them, then stepped back like a man who knew the tide had turned.
Aunt Winnie exhaled, soft as a lullaby. “It won’t be like it never happened,” she said. “But it will be lighter now. That’s what forgiveness does.”
“What are you thinking?” Nate asked as they carried a stack of trays to the kitchen.
“I can see it,” Hannah Leigh said. “A storefront with my name on the glass. Binders lined up neat. A big work table. Pegboard with ribbon and twine. In-progress projects clipped just so. By next December, I could be in full swing.”
“Tell me your tagline,” he said, and there it was again. That way he had of stepping right into her thoughts.
“Gather. Celebrate. Remember.”
He nodded. “That’ll sell.”
“It’ll shine,” she said, and they both smiled at that. No need to fill the space that followed. The moment held on its own.
They slipped out and walked toward the square, hand in hand. The church door clicked shut behind them.
“Tomorrow after church,” she said, “we’ll go by the storefront that’s for lease.”
“I’ll bring a tape measure,” he said. “And a pencil I can chew while you dream out loud.”
“Bring an extra,” she said. “For me.”
They crossed under the lights and headed home, and South Hill, bless its heart, held them like it had been waiting to do exactly that.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Hannah Leigh breathed in the sweetness of South Hilland let it wrap itself around her heart. She had no intention to let this feeling go.
Beside her, Nate tucked his hands in his coat pockets, his smile playful like he knew her thoughts. “You’re smiling.”
“So are you,” she teased.
“Guess we’ve both got a reason.”
And mercy, wasn’t that the truth?At the edge of the square, Mayor Collier, usually all business and barking instructions, stood easy among the townsfolk. With his hat tucked under his arm, he nodded as one of the old timers told a sledding tale from ’58. He even acted amused when Miss Sandra teased about his “politician’s tie,” and accepted a praline from Aunt Winnie without pretending he didn’t want it.
Hannah Leigh watched the corners of his mouth lift, tentative but true, and her heart eased. Truth had a way of softening the edges the past had sharpened.
