must have seen her exhaustion. He placed a hand on her arm. “I’ll take him. Go warm up in the lodge. You can cheer us on from inside.”
She wouldn’t argue with that. She left her skis on the rack, as she had seen others do, and made her way into the lodge, where she grabbed cocoa and then stood at the wide window. It was easy to find Christopher since his coat was red and his hat was a bright purple.
The two of them looked so natural together, she thought as she watched. They had a rapport that touched her as much as it worried her.
She didn’t want her son to be hurt when they left town and Ethan no longer played a part in their lives. She could only hope it wasn’t too late.
Fifteen
If she had any doubt the people of Silver Bells loved the holidays, the town’s annual gingerbread competition quickly put that to rest.
Sunday afternoon, Abby looked around the large ballroom at the Lancaster Silver Bells, where three dozen teams worked feverishly around small tables. Each table held supplies for the gingerbread houses. Squares of gingerbread, fondant, gumdrops, pretzel sticks. Anything one might need to decorate an elaborate gingerbread creation.
Winnie had explained the rules to her earlier in the day. She knew the teams could plan their creation ahead of time but couldn’t do any work until they arrived. They had a two-hour time limit to create, and the winners were chosen by the pastry chefs at the three Lancaster hotels in town.
At the front of the ballroom, a jazz combo played holiday tunes beneath a banner that read Happy Birthday and Joyous Holidays, Rodrigo.
“You really do this every year?”
Winnie looked positively gleeful, as she had since they’d walked in fifteen minutes earlier. “Oh, yes. We have since Rodrigo was about twelve or thirteen. It used to be a small event, family and friends only. In the years since, it’s grown and grown until it has become one of the most fun traditions we have around here. Visitors make an annual trip of it. And the competition can be fierce, I’ll tell you. The grand prize is airfare plus a week’s stay at any Lancaster property in the world, and all proceeds benefit our family foundation, which is funding the endowment for the accessible lodge.”
Silver Bells just might be the most festive town around anywhere. When she had agreed to help Winnie for these few weeks, she had wanted Christopher to experience a white Christmas. She just never expected she would come to love the place.
“Are you ready to get to work? I am.”
“I’m sorry you’re not eligible for the grand prize.”
“Doesn’t matter. We can still win the random door prizes that are donated by local businesses. I’ve got my eye on a free session of hot yoga.”
She smiled, adoring Winnie as much as she loved Silver Bells.
The woman had become so very dear to her over these past weeks. Winifred Lancaster had endured great pain, losing the husband she loved, two children in infancy, having her only remaining son make a mess of his life.
She was a great example of resilience and strength, and Abby wanted to be just like her someday.
Maybe without the pink hair, which would clash horribly with her normal auburn coloring.
Whenever she thought about how much she would miss the woman when she left town, Abby’s chest felt tight.
She hadn’t realized how much she had been yearning for the influence of mature, wise women until this time she had spent with Winnie. Most of her friends in Arizona were her contemporaries. Nurses she worked with or other parents with children Christopher’s age.
Winnie offered a long-range view that helped Abby put everything into perspective.
“You’re entering Christopher, right? You won’t be disqualified from winning.”
“Can we, Mommy?”
“Sure,” she said on impulse. “Let’s go enter.”
A few moments later, after paying the entry fee, she and Christopher were set up at a small table with supplies to build their own house.
She enjoyed listening to the music and talking to Mariah Raymond and Dakota while the boys worked on their respective houses.
“I’m building a dinosaur to go on the lawn,” Christopher said.
“Good job,” she said, smiling at the gumdrop-and-pretzel creation that did indeed look like a little T. rex. She wasn’t sure what a T. rex was doing on the lawn of a gingerbread house, but who was she to question artistic license?
She was helping him shape the long tail when she heard a deep voice.
“There’s my favorite