Page 26 of A South Hill Christmas Keepsake
“Don’t panic. It’s just a pigeon,” Nate replied, scanning the rafters. “Or a bat in a holiday disguise.”
“That thing was the size of a flying chihuahua wearing a feather boa,” she insisted. “That was no bat.”
Their voices bounced off the metal walls. The bird settled high on a beam, glaring down like a cranky landlord.
“Let’s find the box before Big Bird decides we’re lunch,” Nate said.
Hannah Leigh was just thankful it wasn’t a bat. Rabies would not be a fun way to spend the holidays. There were boxes stacked on floor-to-ceiling racks down each side and a row in the middle. She started reading the labels on the boxes, careful not to disturb any other tenants of the shed.
“Looks like they’re organized by date,” she said, brushing dust from the nearest stack. “Oldest on that side.”
They split up, working quickly. Then Hannah Leigh found what they’d been hoping for half-buried beneath cobwebs.Undeliverable Mail ~ 1964, South Hill 23970.
Her breath caught. “Nate. Here! I found boxes with the same year as the picture of Ruthie and Henry Bell.”
He hurried over and pulled them down. “Two of them. Let’s take these inside and get them under some light.”
“There’s no power here.”
“Oh, right?” Nate rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “My place is just up the block. We can go there.”
Her pulse gave a little skip.His place?Her nod came quick to keep from changing her mind. “Sure. Yeah. Cool.” She picked up a box, leaving the other for him to carry. “Following you.”
Nate put the boxes in the truck and then gave Hannah Leigh a boost into the passenger seat. When he started the truck, he said, “I was just thinking about how old Ruthie had to have been.If she was say early twenties in 1964, then she’d be in her early eighties now.”
“I hope she’s in good health. She might not even remember if that locket ever belonged to her.”
“Somehow, I don’t think anyone ever forgets that kind of detail.” Nate’s pickup truck rumbled down Main Street, then turned the corner near Harper's Jewelry. After two more quick turns, Hannah Leigh knew precisely where he was going.
He slowed in front of the red-brick building with arched windows and worn painted lettering that readSouth Hill Mercantile.A wreath on the main entry and candles in every window, just like the old days.
“You live here?” she asked as they climbed out.
“Sure do.”
“But it’s huge.”
“I live on the top floor,” Nate said, hefting both boxes with ease.
“I can take one.”
“Let me get this.” He pushed the door closed. “Follow me,” he said. “This building used to be the newspaper office a hundred years ago, before it was the mercantile. I restored it, refinished the floors, and added new windows. Tried to keep the history but make it modern enough to be livable. There was a lot of cool stuff in the attic still.”
Inside, the stairwell creaked beneath their steps, the air carrying the faint scent of cedar and sawdust. Nate flipped the old iron latch and pushed open the door to his apartment, revealing a space that stopped Hannah Leigh in her tracks.
It stretched the entire second floor—wide-plank floors that gleamed under soft light, tall windows straight ahead spilling late-afternoon sun across an open-concept living space. Exposed brick lined one wall, and opposite it, a riverstone fireplace anchored the room, its walnut mantel rough-hewn and solid.
Built-in shelves framed the hearth, filled with framed photos, a few old woodworking tools polished to a satin glow, and a scattering of handmade Christmas ornaments arranged just so.
To the right, a large farmhouse table sat near the bank of windows, its surface dotted with blueprints and a half-finished mug of coffee.
Beyond that, the kitchen stretched along the far wall with gleaming white cabinets, open shelving with neatly stacked dishes, and a big copper sink that looked straight out of a home design magazine. A sliding barn door stood slightly ajar near the back, hinting at a bedroom or workshop beyond.
“I’m working on lease options for the ground floor,” Nate said, balancing the boxes on his hip as he reached for the switch. Edison bulbs glowed to life, warming the space even more. “Trying to let the building pay its own way.”
“Great idea,” she whispered, still turning in place to take it all in.
He set the boxes on the table, glancing her way. “It’s a lot for one person, but…” His tone softened, a quiet honesty threading through. “Maybe not forever.”
