Page 53 of The Christmas Arrangement

“With your family.”

I glance away from the road and meet her eyes. “And you,” I point out.

“And me.”

“Rachel, I didn’t mean to overstep. I only want Dash to be happy.”

“And you think you this will make him happy? Spending the holiday in a small town with you rather than going on one of our trips—Christmas in Maui or New Year’s in Rio de Janeiro?”

There’s no malice in her voice. But the implication is clear: I don’t know him as well as she does.

“I think he’s happy here,” I say carefully. “I think he’s found something he’s been missing.”

“Hmm.” She turns to look out the window at the snow-capped mountains. “We’ll see.”

I turn on the radio hoping Christmas music will lighten both our moods. She hums along to a few songs and taps her fingers on her thigh in time to the music.

“If you like Christmas music, you should join us tonight,” I tell her. “One of the restaurants, the Tipsy Turnip, hosts a karaoke night each year. This year, they expect an even bigger crowd than usual.”

She gives me a genuine smile. “That sounds like great fun.”

My worry fades. This is going to be fine. She’s protective, that’s all. That’s normal for a mother, especially one who raised her son as a single mom.

When we reach the heart of Mistletoe Mountain and she sees the vintage storefronts, the twinkling lights strung everywhere, and Santa holding court in his gazebo, she actually claps her hands.

“It’s like something out of a storybook—or a Hallmark movie!”

“Wait until you see the library,” I tell her. Aside from the inn, it’s my favorite building in town.

Chapter 21

Vampire Food

Ivy

* * *

The library is a stone building that looks like it's been here since Vermont was founded, and probably has. Inside, the main reading room is dominated by a massive Christmas tree, and the air smells like old books and pine with a hint of jasmine tea wafting from the reference desk.

It's packed—kids, parents, townspeople milling around tables covered in craft supplies and wrapped books.

"Oh, look at the snowflake chains," Rachel breathes, taking it all in. "And the tree!”

"There’s Dash." I point toward the children's wing.

Through a wall of glass, Dash is visible, perched on a stool and surrounded by kids on beanbags shaped like snowballs. He's reading aloud, doing different voices—gruff, squeaky, thunderous—completely unselfconscious.

She watches him for a long moment, and something complicated crosses her face. Pride mixed with something else I can't quite read. "He's so natural with them. I didn't know he was good with children."

“I don’t know how he got roped into helping with story time, but he seems to be having fun. Come on, I’ll introduce you to Noelle."

She looks back at Dash one last time before she follows me to the circulation desk, where we find Noelle helping two little boys thread hooks onto colorful ornaments.

“Okay, you two, go hang your ornaments on the tree.”

“No storytime for them?” I ask as they race through the crowd, bobbing and weaving at top speed.

“I couldn’t do that to Dash. The Williams twins are very active learners. They went up to the Wonder Workshop and 3D printed ornaments instead.” She comes around the desk to greet us.