Christmas in Evergreen Tidings of Joy - Nancy Naigle Page 0,1
ahead. High above the valley, the train chugged over the bridge that crossed the river. Against the icy backdrop, puffs of smoke guaranteed the folks tucked away inside the homes dotting the hillside were warm and safe.
Black cows dotted the bright white fields as the snow continued to fall.
Imagining how hard it must’ve been for the pioneers working their family farms in this valley during the harsh winters, he was thankful for the modern amenities of today.
Then again, maybe he was more suited to that time. He still couldn’t believe how he’d blown that job interview today. Sure, they’d been impressed by his portfolio of work, but they were right. None of his bylines were current. He’d have to prove he still had those journalistic chops if he was going to work in that field again.
He wrestled with the idea of resuming his career at the paper. He’d loved that job, but he loved helping Nan at the library too. And the kids were great. Helping them bond with books, find power in story, it was so satisfying.
Maybe the universe was trying to tell him something.
A photo click from a phone, followed by another and another came from behind him. He was so tempted to turn around to see her again. Self-conscious, he smoothed the back of his hair.
He heard a moan, followed by a grumbling from behind him. “Really? Low battery already?”
The age of technology, he thought with a laugh. He didn’t even have to turn around to see who the complainer was. It was a wonder her phone had lasted even this long. She’d been taking pictures the whole ride.
He’d never personally understood why people were so obsessed with taking pictures from their phones. While concentrating on that tiny screen to capture the moment, they missed it real-time and life-sized altogether. Sometimes it was better to just open your eyes and be present. Those memories were the ones that’d last.
A moment later the woman walked down the aisle with her phone charger in hand. Just as he was about to let her know there wasn’t a charging station, the train jostled, throwing her off balance right into him.
Ben dropped his book and reached out to break her fall.
“Oh, wow!” She juggled a magazine, her phone and that phone charger, practically plugging it right into his nose.
“Are you okay?” He steadied her by the elbow. Taking off his horn-rimmed glasses, he set down his book and smiled.
She waggled the phone charger in the air. “I’m so sorry. I was just…uh…looking for a plug.” The train pitched again.
“Sit,” Ben said, motioning to the seat across the aisle from him. “Good luck with that. This train’s been running since way before anyone needed to plug anything in.”
“Oh, yeah. I guess that makes sense.” She studied her surroundings. “This is authentic? It’s incredible. Look at all the decorations. It’s the Polar Express combined with the Hogwarts Express and ended up the—”
“Evergreen Express. We do a pretty good job of spreading Christmas cheer.”
“We?” Excitement danced in her eyes. “Are you from Evergreen?”
Ben couldn’t hide his pride. “Born and raised.”
“Wow. I’ve been reading a lot about it. It’s been getting a lot of press.” She whipped out her copy of Vermont Traveler magazine, opening it to a dog-eared page, which she began quoting from. “With a world-renowned Christmas Eve festival, Evergreen, Vermont remains a must-see destination for anyone seeking the magic of the Christmas season.”
“All true.” His playful side-glance, he offered no apology. Those things were what he loved about his hometown. “People have a hard time believing it, because at first glance, the articles make us all seem like we’re wandering around under the spell of some kind of peppermint gas leak and we’ve lost our Christmas-addled minds.”
“Like this?” Katie held up the magazine article. “You have five Christmas tree farms. Not tree lots, but farms?”
“The town is in a pine forest,” he explained. “They grow almost as fast as we sell ’em.”
“A local coffee shop called the Kringle Kitchen?”
“Yes, but it’s not named after Santa Claus.”
“Or is it?” She narrowed her eyes.
“No, really, it was originally a bakery that made kringle—”
She raised her hand to stop him mid-sentence. Her voice went up an octave as she went on. “—that also has a snow globe said to grant Christmas wishes.” She rested the magazine in her lap, then shifted her gaze toward him, eyes narrowed with a crooked smile.
Even he was amused. “Okay. Yes. But. The snow globe draws a lot of tourism.