“So,” she said as she pulled away from the curb, “is it too soon to ask what now? I mean, we kissed. I’m leaving. What the hell are we doing?”
He held out his hand, and she laced her fingers in his. Their hands belonged like this. They fit together perfectly. “Let’s take it slow, all right? Let’s not talk about what we are or aren’t. I’m holding Holly Page’s hand, and that’s enough right now.”
Holly grabbed one of the employee parking spots right behind Santabucks, and they dashed down the street—as fast as Danny’s crutches could carry him. Holly threw open the door of the town hall, and the two of them hurried inside, where they were greeted by applause and cheering. Danny startled, glancing around, trying to figure out what was going on. Had he won the contest? Had Holly?
But no. The crowd wasn’t cheering for them. Everyone was looking at a big screen in the back of the room, upon which was playing a slideshow of Holly’s grandmother. Elda motioned for the two of them to sit next to her, and they did.
As the slides flew by behind him, the mayor stood up on the dais and said, “We lost one of our own this year, one of our most enthusiastic gingerbread competitors, Mrs. Dolores Page.”
Everyone clapped.
“Dolores embodied the spirit of North Pole. She was a great neighbor and a great citizen. She participated in every event—even the Stash Grab contest last year, where she won third place. Dolores loved her friends and her family. We’re so glad to have some of them here tonight.”
Danny checked on Holly and Elda sitting next to him. The girls were holding hands, and a tear ran down Holly’s cheek. Danny, feeling inadequate for not having a tissue or a handkerchief, handed Holly the scarf from around his neck. She smiled and dabbed at her face.
“People come and go from this town all the time, and there are only a few constants, the real townies. This year we lost one of those pillars of our community, and she will be missed.”
The mayor turned around and watched as the slideshow continued to play.
“This is the memorial Grandma would’ve wanted,” Holly whispered.
“She totally would’ve dug it,” Elda said. “She loved this place more than anything.”
Danny turned to them. “Your grandma.” He shook his head. “I can’t even imagine someone else living in that house.”
“Us either.” Holly’s other hand grabbed Danny’s.
He’d experienced so many recent life changes that losing his elderly next-door neighbor had seemed like one of the smaller ones. But Dolores had always been there for him, Brian, and their mom. She had their spare key. She invited them for dinner once a month, at least. He mowed her lawn and weeded her garden in the summertime, and she made him cookies and lemonade as a thank you. And now someone else would’ve been living in her house. Dolores was gone. Her family was leaving and never coming back.
But he couldn’t get all sad about it now. Holly was here for another week. They still had a bunch of holiday festivities to get through. Now was not the time to be sad. Now was the time to be grateful for all the things he did have, the things he could’ve very easily missed out on if he hadn’t allowed himself to open up. He squeezed Holly’s hand, and she squeezed back.
The mayor stepped up to the microphone again. “It is time now to announce the winner of this year’s gingerbread contest.”
“Wait. Is that my showstopper?” Holly pointed to the table at the front of the room, where all the competitors’ entries had been displayed.
“I may have had my brother sneak it out of your garage,” Danny said.
Holly squeezed his hand and didn’t let go.
“In third place.” The mayor squinted at the card in front of him, then looked up, grinning. “Tinka Foster!”
Tinka stayed in her seat for a moment, frowning. But then she leaned over and hugged Sam before trudging up to receive her award.
“In second place…my goodness, our own Craig Cooper.”
Craig’s jaw dropped. So did Danny’s. If Craig was in second place, that meant…what? That Brian hadn’t gotten Holly’s entry here on time? That’d she’d been disqualified for bringing in a late entry? He glanced over at the display table. His basketball court was great but couldn’t hold a candle to Holly’s house. She should not lose on a technicality. Danny was about to run up to the podium in protest, when the mayor started speaking again.
“And in first place, winner of the coveted gingerbread trophy, the Stanley Cup of North Pole, plus a one-hundred-dollar gift certificate to Joyeaux Noel is…”
Holly squeezed Danny’s hand tighter. “Get ready.”
Danny would decline the trophy. He’d say, “Thanks, but no thanks,” and hand the prize off to Holly. She deserved it. Danny hated losing—absolutely hated it—but even more than that, he hated winning an unfair fight.
The mayor opened the envelope, looked at the card, whipped off his glasses, and wiped them. Then he read the card again. “Well,” he said, after a moment, “this is unprecedented. We have a tie. The Page girls and Danny Garland!”
Danny dropped Holly’s hand in shock. “We won,” he said. “We both won.” Holly handed him his crutches. Oh, yeah. He still had to go up and receive his prize.
Holly tried to pull Elda up, but she wouldn’t budge. Grinning, she folded her arms and remained in her seat. “You go up alone. The prize is yours, not mine.”
“It’s our family’s.”
Elda shook her head. “You take this one. You earned it.”
Holly helped Danny stand, and the two of them ascended the dais to receive their awards. Danny marveled at the one-eighty his life had taken in the past twenty-four hours. He’d gone from thinking Elda was his soul mate to accepting his life as a loner to kissing Holly. And now the two of them had won the gingerbread contest. As they stood together, taking pictures for the newspaper, Danny leaned down and whispered, “There’s only one trophy, you know.”
“I know.” Holly smiled as a flash nearly blinded them. “Who gets it? I mean, me, obviously. You’ve had it before. This is my one chance.”
“But you have to return it before the next competition. It’s a traveling trophy. You don’t get to keep it. And you’re never coming back to North Pole.” He tried hard not to think about that, but it was the truth.
“Maybe I’ll have to make an exception.” She nudged him in the side. “You know, to preserve the sanctity of the gingerbread competition.”
As they finished their photo op, Dinesh rushed the stage and grabbed the microphone. “Everyone,” he said, “I have something I need to do.” The entire crowd gawked at him. Dinesh wasn’t known for his loud proclamations. He usually let Craig do the public speaking, if not the karaoke. “I…” He trailed off as if seeing the crowd for the first time and remembering that microphones terrified him.
Craig ran up and put an arm around his buddy’s shoulders. “What he wants to say is, Esmerelda—”
Dinesh snatched the mic back. “I have to do this myself. Elda, I know we just met, but please stay here in North Pole. With me. I—” Dinesh got down on one knee.