“Shit.”
“Don’t worry. Not her fault. Mayor Banks misplaced his bell.”
Now that’s something I can believe. “I’m going to text Jaylynn. If you see her before she gets my message, tell her I’ll be back on time.”
“Will do.”
Something in his voice needles me, but I push it aside. I fire off a message to Jaylynn as I stride out the door. A second later, a phone pings behind me. I whip around, expecting to see her. But she isn’t there.
The unease spreads.
I jog to the inn, jump into my SUV, and hit the road, my grip is white-knuckled on the wheel. Don’t panic. Don’t imagine the worst. Still, my mind won’t stop spinning. If anything happened to Aunt Elaine. No. I’m not going there. She’s fine. Forgetful, maybe. The cats probably slipped out. Muffin/ Earl—hell, I can practically picture him staging a feline coup to sabotage Santa’s parade.
But when I reach her house, the world feels too quiet. The lawn is empty, the screen door shut tight. My pulse hammers as I bound up the steps and pound on the door. No answer. I dig out my key, push inside. The sound of hissing greets me, cats streaking past my legs.
“Elaine?” My voice echoes through the house.
Her car is in the garage. She has to be here. I tear through the rooms, calling her name, checking corners, checking each floor. My heart races harder with each empty hallway, each unanswered call.
Still nothing.
I grab my phone again, call Jaylynn this time, but she doesn’t pick up either.
Dread coils tight in my chest. Maybe Elaine walked into town. Maybe she’s at the hospital. Maybe?—
My phone rings. Relief surges when I see her number. I snatch it up. “Elaine? Are you okay? Where are you?”
A beat of silence. Then, “I think I’m the one who should be asking you those questions.”
23
Jaylynn
Dressed in my Mrs. Claus costume, I hurry through the chaos of the community center, my red skirt swishing around my legs. Kids are darting between tables, volunteers are shouting orders, and somewhere in the back, a brass band is warming up. It feels like I’m at the center of a snow globe someone won’t stop shaking.
Where the heck did I put my phone?
I nearly collide with Sheriff Reynolds. “Can you call my phone for me? I can’t find it, and I don’t have time to look.”
“Sure thing.” He pulls his cell from his belt and punches in my number. We both pause, scanning the echoing room. Nothing. The noise is so loud we wouldn’t hear a rocket launch.
“Thanks. I’ll keep looking,” I say breathlessly. The parade is going to start in five minutes, and still no sign of Penn. A knot of worry tightens in my chest. I almost ask the sheriff to call him, but then, right there. From the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of red velvet and snowy white trim disappearing into the back room. Santa. My Santa. Penn.
Relief surges through me so fast my knees go weak. He’s here. Of course, he’s here. If there’s one thing I know about Penn, it’s he’s dependable.
De—Penn—dable.
Oh my god, I crack myself up. If I had time to laugh I would. I’m already half-turned to go to him when Cassie barrels into me, her cheeks flushed. “There’s no candy on the daycare float. The kids can’t throw candy if they have no candy. Weren’t you supposed to handle that?”
My heart lurches. “Right. Yes. On it.”
I sprint to the locker room, find the massive bag of candy, and haul it out myself. Cassie’s already vanished, juggling a dozen other fires, so I drag the sack to the float and start handing it out to eager little hands. Just as I finish, Mayor Banks, dressed in his town crier costume, and moving at the pace of a snail, starts ringing his brass bell. The sharp clang ricochets off the brick walls, signaling that the parade is about to begin.
The building erupts into motion. Families, volunteers, costumed performers—everyone floods out toward the street in a merry rush. Convinced Penn is among them, I climb aboard the last float and settle onto my bench, finally allowing myself to breathe.
The crowd outside is a blur of mittens and twinkle lights. I search through the faces until I spot Santa striding toward me. My chest unclenches. It’s been nonstop chaos all day, but now—now that Penn is here beside me—I can relax. Everything will be okay.
I wave at my mom and dad, who beam and wave back as they jockey for a spot along the curb. When I turn back around, I see Santa climbing up onto his seat beside me. My smile freezes. My pulse slams against my throat.