Page 23 of A South Hill Christmas Keepsake
“Maybe.” A spark of mischief crossed his face. “Or maybe I’m soaking in some of that Christmas magic everyone keeps talking about.”
Her blush rose like a slow sunrise, but she didn’t look away.
He leaned in just enough for their shoulders to touch. “Are you hungry?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Take a picture of that,” he said, holding the photo steady.
She snapped it and called to Edna Sue. “We think we’ve found something. Can we leave this box here for a bit? We’ll be back after lunch to double-check a few things.”
Edna Sue answered quickly, “No one else scheduled a visit to the archives today.”
“You’re the best,” Nate said.
She smirked. “Remember that next time you try to haggle with me over my restoration fees. History shouldn’t have to bargain, sugar.”
He tipped an imaginary hat. “Yes, ma’am.”
They stepped out into the bright winter air, with old stories and possibilities following them out the door.
“This is a good lead,” Hannah Leigh said, her breath puffing white. “I’m so excited. Now, I’m dying for one of those North Pole Puffs Birdie was raving about.”
Nate grinned, already imagining the sugary glazed doughnuts and her laughter mixing. But as they crossed the street, his thoughts drifted. Henry and Ruthie lingered like a melody that hadn’t yet found its ending.
Maybe the locket wasn’t the only story waiting to be finished. And the words just tumbled right out his mouth. “Do you think it’s a coincidence we were the ones to find that locket?”
Her expression was hard to read. Couldn’t take it back now though.
He looked over at the woman who’d been making him smile lately.
She didn’t answer right away. She stepped gingerly, her arms slightly out as if to keep from slipping. Either she hadn’t heard him, was unwilling or too afraid to give it a moment of consideration.
He wanted to say it out loud, but the words never left his mouth.Maybe we have a story to finish, too.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Hannah Leigh sat across from Nate at the Doughnut Den surrounded by so much sweetness her teeth ached. No, she didn’t believe in coincidences at Christmastime. Not in South Hill, where memories lingered and its small-town stories always eventually got told. She didn’t think that locket was a coincidence, and neither was running into Nate.
With my luck, it was more like the devil tempting me into another relationship that’ll end horribly.
And so she tried to pretend she hadn’t heard him. So far, he seemed to be buying the act.
They had barely finished their doughnuts before she pulled out her notebook and started scribbling. Names. Places. Questions. The kind that didn’t let go until you followed them to the end.
Her phone buzzed. “It’s Birdie.” She read the text to him.
BIRDIE: 411 on locket mystery that’ll bake your biscuits.
“That’s colorful.” Nate shook his head.“She ought to trademark half the things she says.”
“Oh, there’s more coming.” She waited patiently as the dot-dot-dots pulsed. “Here we go.”
BIRDIE: Old post office has boxes of undelivered mail.
Nate leaned over her shoulder. “Do we even want to know what that means?”
“Probably not,” Hannah Leigh said, grinning. “We aren’t even finished running down her first lead.”
