it had a nice feel to it, but I wasn’t sure it was an accepted term. I’d have to ask Gideon later where he thought our relationship was and what terms did he find acceptable to describe where we now—
“Oh the buses were my doing,” Gideon casually tossed out, gave me a wink, and then melted into the crowd with my mother on his arm to allow Aubrey to race up to me. I watched my boyfriend…hmm, boyfriend. I rolled it around on my tongue a few times. It felt good. Natural. Still, I’d keep it to myself until I asked. I watched my boyfriend lead my mother into the small coffee shop that sat next to our tiny hiking/camping/biking shop.
As much as I wanted to press him about the tour buses, Aubrey was not to be denied.
“This is amazing!” Aubrey kept saying as he steered me through the people on the green to the small stage the booster club had set up by the Poe fountain. It was the summer bandstand, but with a coat of fresh paint and some tinsel, it was now the mayor’s rostrum. “Okay, so your speech begins in five minutes. Fifteen minutes of talking then you announce the Carnival to be officially open and direct people to the church. Then you’re to mingle, talk to everyone you can, and hand out these brochures telling the guests here about our town and what’s coming next summer.”
“Next summer? What’s coming next summer?” I asked then was shoved onstage by my grinning aide. Seeing all the cheery eyes moving my direction, I hustled to the podium so as not to keep people waiting any longer than needed out here in the cold. As I bounced in place to keep warm, another sleigh jingle-jangled past, this one pulled by an Appaloosa horse that was just breathtakingly marked. Everyone commented on it. Kids pleaded to take another ride.
My town was so alive, so full, and so filled with holiday spirit I could taste it. I tapped the microphone simply because one had to tap a microphone and then pulled out my phone. My speech was right there in my office app, all neatly typed by Mara and uploaded by Aubrey.
It was a great speech. Well thought out, seasonal, funny, and it rolled along smoothly. The people who were gathered on the green clapped politely as I wound down. They were antsy to get into the church and gobble up those hand-crafted gifts.
“I know you’re tired of listening to a politician talk. Let the Christmas Carnival officially begin!” I threw my hat into the air and the crowd cheered. Then they moved off as a mass toward the Presbyterian Church, leaving me standing on stage, hatless, with no crowd but wearing a smile a mile wide.
“Excuse me, Mr. Mayor, you lost your hat.” Gideon stood at the stairs leading up to the stage, my top hat in his hand. He looked so good standing there with a few stray flakes resting on his dark head and his smile only for me. Aubrey was talking it up with some man from downstate, I could tell by his accent. Knowing it might be rather risqué, I nonetheless walked down the four steps, took my hat from Gideon, and then gave him a hug. A big one.
He seemed taken aback but soon his arms came around me. “This is nice,” he said then kissed my cheek. “You best be careful though. People will talk.”
“Let them talk.” I pulled back just enough to look into his eyes. “You’re quite special to me. I wanted you to know that.”
He smiled softly. “Come on. Let’s go spend some money.” He offered me his gloved hand. I slid my bare one into his and that was how we walked to the church, hand-in-hand with me sporting my top hat. We drew a few odd looks, a couple of scowls, and one rubberneck but overall the people of my small town were fine with two men holding hands.
“Holy crap,” I whispered when we stepped around the back of the Presbyterian Church and saw a line stretching from the basement up the stairs and into the parking lot. Some of our local high school seniors were moving down the line selling cups of hot coffee, tea, or cocoa to add to the carnival fund. “This is amazing.”
I beamed at Gideon.
“I told you we could do this with some good old-fashioned elbow grease and good fundraising know-how.” I rolled my