Page 44 of A South Hill Christmas Keepsake
HANNAH LEIGH:Found answers. Found more questions. Can you meet?
The typing dots appeared, paused, then:
NATE:Give me twenty. Fixing lights before the tree lighting.
Her mouth lifted into a smile. “I’m going to meet Nate.”
“You should. Go.” Aunt Winnie shooed her with a mittened hand. “I’ll bring the rest of this cocoa to the Chamber and bully the mayor into tasting the pralines again. He needs sugar if he’s going to admit hard things. He knows Margaret Jane is back. There’s no way he didn’t recognize her when she came right out and told him she should smile for the camera. He’s just playing coy.”
“Or hiding from the truth. I agree.” Hannah Leigh hugged her. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being you.”
“Always.” Aunt Winnie’s smile made her look lit from the inside. “Now drop me off at the office so you can scoot.”
The whole town hummed with holiday activities as Hannah Leigh zipped back across town where Nate was stringing the last row of lights on the huge town tree. He climbed down the ladder, brushing off his hands. “You good?”
“Better,” she said, and told him everything. The living room that smelled like cinnamon, the cardinal sparking red when they left, the ribbon and the program, the way Margaret Jane’s voice had trembled when she spoke of her lost love.
He whistled. “Love can be messy. And confusing.”
“Yeah,” she said. “When you find the right one, hang on tight.”
He nudged a coil of wire with his boot. “Did any of it have to do with the dogwood?”
“It did. The man she said was the most romantic and handsome she’d ever known, the one she waited for, is someone you know very well.”
He arched a brow. “Not me, I hope. She’s way too old for me.”
“It’s your uncle,” she said.
Nate froze. “What?” He let out a breath, half disbelief, half resignation. “You know, I can see it. He and Elaine had an odd marriage. Very formal. So, Margaret Jane being back must be what’s got him winding tighter in the cranky department than normal. Guess that explains it.”
“I think so,” Hannah Leigh said. “I promised not to share her side. Still, them both pretending not to notice each other is crazy. I just want the truth to stop running.”
“Then let’s invite the truth to them.” Nate reached into his jacket pocket to pull out a small envelope. “If anyone can make that happen it’s you. You’re the best woman I’ve ever met. I made you something. Nothing fancy. Just something to help you keep confident in that bravery I so admire.”
“What?” She opened it carefully. A coin-sized hand carved wooden dogwood blossom lay inside, simple and sure. The words‘Work your magic’written in Sharpie around the edge. The woodgrain raised like quiet words under her fingers. “It’s beautiful,” she said. “Did you make it?”
“I did. Carved it out of some maple I had in my workshop. I was thinking about you.”
“It’s perfect. I’ll keep it in my pocket so when I need it I’ve got it. Thank you.”
He nodded toward the tent where the mayor worked on his speech. “He’s in there, writing talking points for the ceremony. We could wait till morning, but I know him. He sleeps worse with secrets than with truths he didn’t plan for.”
She looked toward the tent, then back at Nate. “Let’s do it now. No fuss. Just let him know Margaret Jane’s here. He can’t pretend he doesn’t know then. After that, it’s his move.”
Nate smiled, that steady, quiet kind that always settled her nerves. “I’m with you.”
They walked over to the makeshift festival office which was really just a small wall tent with a little ceramic heater fighting to warm the air.
Inside, a single lamp that cast a soft circle across the desk. Papers stacked in careful piles next to a cup of coffee.
Clarence looked up as they entered, his posture stiffening. “Evening,” he said. “Getting ready for the tree lighting. I hate speeches.”
“You’ve done a hundred of them,” Nate said. “You’ll be fine.”
