Page 17 of A South Hill Christmas Keepsake
“I’m not staying. Pressing Chamber matters require my attention, but I promised Birdie I’d tell you to sit with her. She’s saving you a seat.”
“Oh, I already talked to her. In fact, you just missed her.”
“Doesn’t matter. She’ll have a fit if you don’t sit with her, and blame me for it. Please do me a favor and sit with her. You won’t even have to talk to her while the movie is playing. Even Birdie follows that rule.”
With a resigned shrug, Hannah Leigh agreed.
Aunt Winnie said, “She always sits on the left, about six rows back from the screen. You’ll see her.”
“She was wearing antlers earlier with lights on them. Shouldn’t be hard to spot her.”
“Well, no one has ever accused Birdie of having good fashion sense. I’ve got to run, honey. Have fun.” And with that, Aunt Winnie swept out of the building.
She made her way into the dimly lit theater.
In the middle of it all was Birdie, antlers flashing red and green atop her fiery curls, looking as proud as a Christmas parade float.
“Saved you a seat, sugarplum!” she called, patting the spot next to her like it owed her rent.
“You know you can’t wear that flashing headband during the movie,” Hannah Leigh said.
“I know. I wanted to be sure you could spot me.” She removed the crazy headwear and shoved it into her tote bag, which now glowed on the floor like an alien.
Before the lights dimmed, Birdie leaned in. “Now, I don’t mean to stir up mystery during a Christmas movie, but it’s about the locket.”
Hannah Leigh nodded cautiously.
“Well. I’ve beenthinking.” Birdie’s whisper wasn’t a whisper. It was a stage voice with the volume turned to ‘nosey neighbor in a soap opera.’
“What if that locket belonged to someone the mayor was in love with before he married Elaine? Someone who is back in town now after all these years. What if,” she lowered her voice dramatically, “he meant to propose to her at Christmas… but something stopped him.Andthen she left town, and he married Elaine. Like a rebound.”
“Birdie,” Hannah Leigh started, but Birdie was already rolling.
“No, no, listen to me. He’s been grumpier than usual since you found that locket. And did you know he acts like he hates Christmas, but he sneaks into this movie every year, sits in the balcony, and pretends he’s checking lightbulbs or something?”
“There’s got to be a tender spot in him somewhere,” Hannah Leigh offered. “Elaine died this time of year, didn’t she?”
“Well, yes, but he is anything but nostalgic, and she died a long time ago. He’s a grump. Honey, the man once canceled the Christmas parade because it interfered with deer hunting season. He isnotsentimental. But guilt?Regret?Nowthoseare powerful motivators.” She tapped her temple with a candy cane stick. “Mark my words. That locket is a ghost from the mayor’s past. And we’re about to watch him unravel like a dollar store garland.”
Hannah Leigh couldn’t help glancing up at the balcony, where a shadowy figure slipped into the back row and sat alone.
Was Birdie psychic, or just that good at solving mysteries?
The film started rolling, and the crowd from the lobby filled the theater.
Birdie leaned over once more and whispered, “Mark my words, sugar. That locket is the first thread in a whole quilt of secrets. A long-buried story. Mark my words.” She rustled in her seat and leaned closer. “And you and that handsome carpenter are gonna be the ones to stitch it all back together. Well, with my help, of course.”
Hannah Leigh bit back a smile.Birdie and her prophecies.She never met a whisper she couldn’t turn into a headline. Still, something in the older woman’s certainty tugged at her, a tiny spark she wasn’t ready to name.
“Let’s not start stitching just yet,” she said lightly, hoping her grin sounded steadier than she felt. “But thank you for the vote of confidence.”
Birdie winked. “Honey, it’s not confidence. It’s experience.”
Hannah Leigh laughed under her breath, though her heart gave a small, traitorous flutter. Turning her gaze back to the flickering screen, she pretended to study the opening frames.
But Birdie’s words lingered, settling somewhere between her ribs and reason. Maybe it was holiday magic, or maybe the woman’s instincts weren’t so far-fetched after all.
“A long-buried story,” she murmured, more to herself than to Birdie. “You really think so? The two people pictured in that locket seem perfectly charming to me.”
