Page 4 of Meet Me on Mistletoe Lane

“Cones?” I spun around. “Yep. You told me.”

Isaiah chuckled from above.

Sam made a face and took a bite of his cookie, spilling a few crumbs on his signature maroon flannel shirt that must’ve shrunk, because I didn’t remember Sam having such a broad chest the last time I saw him. Not that I ogled my best friend’s chest or anything.

Okay, maybe sometimes.

Truthfully, part of me might’ve always had a small crush on him.

At six feet tall, with fiery red hair, and always in jeans and a button-up, Sam was the textbook definition of an eighteen-year-old lumberjack.

He swiped his hand over his shirt. “Glad to see someone actually hears me around here, then.”

“Oh we all hear you, Sam. We just don’t always listen.” I stuck out my tongue and darted inside, laughing at the sound of what was likely the last piece of his cookie hitting the doorframe behind me.

The Market looked exactly as I predicted it would: organized Christmas chaos. Sam’s parents stood on the stage rotating the new trees from their farm so the best side was facing forward, while several townspeople attempted to untangle their white lights. Others were already behind their stands, setting up their merchandise and weekend sales signs. A few waved at me as I passed by, but their smiles seemed forced, almost sad.

Which was strange.

Shouldn’t they be happier about the start of our busiest and most successful season of the year?

Marco and Nico stood near the center of the room underneath the big mason-jar chandelier, yelling at their mom, my Aunt Helen, to get off the ladder and “let someone younger hang the garland this year.”

That someone would likely be me, as it had been for the last few years, even though they all knew I hated the unsteady wobbliness of ladders.

A blur of green charged me from the side, and I grunted as the gangly legs of my brother Leo wrapped around my mine. “Where have you been?” he asked, out of breath. “Everyone’s—”

“Looking for me?” I tousled his dark brown wavy hair that matched my own. “Yeah, I know.”

“No, Gianna, not that.”

I carefully peeled him off me and crouched down, laughing at the smear of chocolate around his mouth. “Were you in Ms. Louisa Mae’s chocolate-covered pretzels again? You know they make you crash hard.”

“I only had a few.” He smiled mischievously, his blue eyes bright.

“Well, don’t eat anymore. Mom will freak.” I stood and motioned toward the stairs. “Is she up there?”

Leo nodded, wiping his mouth with his sleeve and then frowning at the stain. “Aren’t we going to, you know, talk about it?”

Talk about what, my trip to Italy in less than two months? “The only thing I need to talk about right now is something with Mom, bud. I’ll catch you later.” I patted his head one last time before running over to the stairs, ignoring my cousins who called out to me as I passed them.

“But, Gianna!” Leo’s voice carried over the chatter and sleigh bells being taken out for the tree decorations.

“Not now, Leo!” I yelled back, skipping the first couple of stairs to go up to Mom’s studio. She and I had so much planning to do, and I hadn’t even started a packing list yet because I didn’t want to get my hopes up. What was the temperature in Italy like this time of year, anyway?

“You can’t go up there!” his voice screamed, making me stop mid-step.

I sighed and braced myself against the railing, already draped with fresh greens. “Okay, I give up. Why can’t I go up there?”

Marco, wearing his favorite hockey jersey that was ripped in three places, scooped Leo up and put him on his broad shoulders like he weighed nothing. “Because your mom, my mom, Nona, the mayor, and a bunch of other people are up there having a meeting about…” He paused, then whispered, “Mr. Paxton.”

Mr. Paxton?

Why were they meeting about the owner of The Market?

I adjusted the spacing of the decorations as I descended the stairs and then snapped my fingers. “He forgot to turn off the sink and flooded the back kitchen again, didn’t he?” I laughed and snorted once before I realized no one else was laughing.

In fact, everyone had stopped what they were doing to stare at me.