Christmas in Cupid Falls (13 page)

He didn’t even know if she’d gone to them.

He wasn’t sure exactly what they taught in those kind of classes. After all, the baby was in and it had to come out. How much was there to learn about that?

He was going to have to get a book on that and on babies. He didn’t have a clue what to do with babies.

And after that, they’d have a toddler, the
n . . .

Suddenly he realized that the atmosphere in the room seemed to have shifted since he went outside. People seemed to be staring at him. Every time he almost caught someone at it, they instantly averted their eyes.

He felt like he was parting the sea as he walked through down the center aisle. Normally, friends would come over and talk. He didn’t get home often, and there was always some news they had to share. But not today.

What was up? He scanned the room and spotted Clarence in a corner. He saw as the older man noticed he was looking at him, Clarence averted his eyes and made a move to dart in a different direction.

“Uh, uh, uh,” Mal said as he grabbed Clarence. “What’s going on?”

The old man shrugged. “I don’t know what you mean?”

“Clarence, I might not live in Cupid Falls anymore, but I can recognize that something is up.”

“U
h . . .
” Clarence shifted from foot to foot.

Mal might have worried, but he had an ace in the hole. “Clarence, I could go get Joan. She’ll tell me what’s going on.”

Clarence scoffed. “She won’t. She ain’t talkin’ to you.”

“And neither, it seems, is most of Cupid Falls. That’s what I’m asking you. What did I do?” Mal couldn’t think of anything he’d done. Everything seemed fine, then he went outside with Kennedy and Nana Vancy, then came back in to this communal cold shoulder.

Clarence was looking at the floor as he practically whispered, “It’s about you and the mayor. I know. You said
my
, then switched it to
Kennedy’s baby
. But I caught it. You don’t want anyone to know.”

Mal didn’t know what to say to that. He realized that he didn’t care if the whole world knew he was going to be a father because he wa
s . . .
excited.

This wasn’t the right time, or the right way, to go about having a baby, but despite not knowing how he and Kennedy were going decide what they were going to do, he knew what he wanted to do with the bab
y . . .
be the best father he possibly could be.

He didn’t say any of that, though, knowing Kennedy wouldn’t like it.

When he didn’t say anything, Clarence shook his head. “No one likes you messin’ with her and then walking away and letting her go through with all the baby business on her own. Not that she’s on her own. She’s got all of us, but that doesn’t let you off the hook.” Clarence looked up from the floor and glared at Mal. “We don’t like it at all, Mal. Everyone’s disappointed in you. You’ve always been someone who Cupid Falls looked up to. But not anymore. Not now. Not about this.”

Mal could tell Clarence that he’d asked Kennedy to marry him and she’d said no. He could tell the older man that he’d just found out about the baby.

He could say any number of things, but any of them would be an excuse, and he wasn’t about to offer excuses to the town.

This was between him and Kennedy. The town didn’t fit into the equation, at least not in his mind. “Thanks for telling me.”

“You gonna make it right?” Clarence asked. “I’d be happy to let them all know.”

“My personal life is just tha
t . . .
personal. I won’t be saying anything about Kennedy or the baby, not to you or to anyone else in this town.”

Clarence looked doubtful. “If you don’t mind me saying, that’s a mistake.”

“I do mind, and mistake or not, I’m not talking.”

“Fine.”

Mal walked away from Clarence, and it was as if the entire town knew what they’d said, because they didn’t bother averting their eyes anymore. Their animosity was there in every look, in every word not spoken.

CHAPTER NINE

That evening, after the crafters and shoppers had all left, Kennedy looked out over the now-empty room. Well, empty except for Malcolm. He was busy turning off lights and doing a once-over before they locked up. He’d insisted she let him help. Most days she’d protest that she could manage on her own. She felt responsible for the craft show because she’d booked it. But she couldn’t manage the energy to protest, much less close up on her own. She was bone-deep exhausted. Everyone kept warning her how hard it was to have a baby—how exhausting it was. She was sure they were right, but she didn’t see how it could be much worse than trying to function when you were the size of a barge.

Malcolm walked down the center aisle and smiled at her. For a moment she was taken back to those long-ago high school days when she’d have given almost anything to have him smile at her that way. He’d been cute as a teen, but he’d truly come into his own as an adult. He was a
Clooney
—her own personal code for a man who only got more handsome as he aged, à la George Clooney.

On the heels of memories of her childhood crush came memories of their one night together. They’d both been so torn up over losing Val. They’d been looking for comfort, and they’d found i
t . . .
with each other.

No, she needed to put away thoughts of their past and concentrate on the now. But then Malcolm smiled at her again as he reached her. Kennedy rose, pasted her most businessy smile on her face—one she normally reserved for dealing with May—and said, “Well, that was a good day. The show doesn’t start tomorrow until noon. I’ll see you before that.” She zipped up her parka and turned toward the door.

It was so much easier not fantasizing about her childhood crush or the one night they’d spent together when she didn’t have to look at Malcolm.

“Are you heading home?” he asked.

She really wanted to answer with her back toward him, but even though she could manage simply giving him social smiles, she couldn’t quite manage being rude. So she turned back around and settled for looking at Joan’s frog table, which was visible just beyond his shoulder. “Yes. I want to get something to eat before the lighting ceremony tonight.”

“May I walk with you?” he asked.

She withheld a sigh, but barely. “Sure.”

“Don’t sound so enthused,” Malcolm said with a laugh as he flipped off the light, followed her out, and locked the door behind them. “Too bad we didn’t get some snow today for tonight’s ceremony.”

“The weatherman said there was a forty percent chance of snow, and it’s definitely cold enough,” she said, hugging her parka more tightly to herself. “It’s been an early start to the winter this year.”

He didn’t say anything else as they walked to the corner. Kennedy allowed herself to hope that they’d walk in companionable silence the rest of the way home, but her luck didn’t last.

“I want to say something, but I don’t want you to get mad,” Mal said.

She braced herself for another marriage proposal. She was getting good at saying no, but obviously not good enough for him to stop asking. “If you’re worried whatever you’re going to say is going to make me mad, maybe you shouldn’t say it?”

“I’m worried that you’re doing too much. You were on your feet all day today.”

She glanced at him. Even in a thick winter coat and hat, he was hot. Darn. She immediately looked forward and assured him, “I’m fine.”

“Listen, why don’t you come home with me? I’ll make us Thanksgiving leftovers—there’s a ton. And then I’ll walk over to the park with you.”

The offer was tempting. “If I say yes, it would be because leftovers are my favorite part of the holiday. It’s not that I want you to think we’r
e . . .
”—she waved her mittened hand between them—“well, anything more than we are.”

He stopped and asked, “And what are we?”

She was forced to stop too in order to answer him. “We’re soon-to-be parents. So I’ll say yes to dinner, but only for the leftovers, and maybe a little because you and I are also friends. Or at least friendly. I just want to be clear.”

“I accept your terms.” He held out his arm, and she wasn’t going to take it, but he said, “Just friends.”

He was on his best behavior the rest of the walk. “You go put up your feet and I’ll warm up some leftovers.”

Kennedy was too exhausted to protest. She unbundled from her winter gear and sat on the couch.

Next thing she knew, Malcolm was shaking her awake. “You have to leave for the lighting ceremony in half an hour. I’ve got a plate heated for you on the coffee table.”

He busied himself in the kitchen but came back out to the living room as she finished her dinner. “You really are a good cook,” she said as she finished.

“Tonight I was simply the reheater,” he joked.

Kennedy was thankful that she didn’t really have to dress up for tonight’s event. But in honor of it she’d worn her chunky red-and-green scarf and hat.

The sidewalks were clear because there hadn’t been snow in days, but there was still a light coating on the grass. It was cold as they walked in silence along the winter-dark streets.

A number of the homes had been decorated for the holidays. Lights blinked on porches. Lit trees shone through front windows. She needed to put her own tree up soon.

She was thankful that Malcolm didn’t feel the need to fill the quiet with a lot of talk. She simply wanted to enjoy the evening and Cupid Falls’ official start of the Christmas season.

They stepped onto Main Street and found there was already a crowd waiting.

The kids all seemed to be dancing around in excitement. A lot of the adults, too. She was sympathetic because she felt that same sense of anticipation.

She walked toward the small gazebo in the center of the town’s square. There’d been talk about naming the park but it never got any further than just talk. It wasn’t as if people didn’t know what you meant if you said the park or the squar
e . . .
there was only one in Cupid Falls. It had a gazebo in the center and a bunch of trees.

Kennedy realized so much of Cupid Falls was simply known by its purpose, rather than its name/proper noun. Town Hall, the square, the park, the Center, the creek, the falls, the flower shop, the grocery stor
e . . .

Of course other towns had squares, shops, and parks; bigger cities had multiple ones. But Cupid Falls was so small there was no need for any more of a description. Each thing was what it was. She’d thought maybe she’d started a trend by naming the flower shop Cupid’s Bowquet. But so far, no one else seemed to see the merit.

She started to say as much to Malcolm but realized that she’d lost him in the crowd. So she chatted with one group or another as she slowly made her way to the gazebo. As she approached, the crowd got quiet and Malcolm was suddenly back at her side.

Lamar was standing nearby with a group of boys she knew belonged to a local scouting group. “The microphone’s on, Mayor,” he said.

“Thanks, Lamar.” She turned to Malcolm. “Looks like I’m good to go.”

“Break a leg,” he offered.

She took the first step onto the gazebo when she noticed that it was snowing. “Look. It started right on cue,” Kennedy said, holding out her mittened hand. “A Hollywood production couldn’t have planned it any better.”

Malcolm grinned. “You ask for snow, I give you snow.”

She laughed, not because what he said was really that funny, but because she felt like a little girl finding it snowed on Christmas Eve, just in time for Santa.

She climbed the rest of the stairs to the gazebo and pasted a smile on her face as she approached the microphone. “Welcome, everyone. I hope you’ve all had a wonderful Thanksgiving, but more than that, I hope you spent the day with family or friends and that you took some time to count your blessings.” Her hand fell to her stomach and she said a silent thanks for the baby that would be with her soon. “And if we didn’t see you at the Center today, I hope we see you there tomorrow.”

The crowd chuckled and she continued, “It’s been years since we’ve had lights for the town or for our tree. The pine tree next to the gazebo supposedly came from a seed that came from a tree that came from a see
d . . .
well, there were more than a few seeds and trees. But way back when the first tree here was planted, it supposedly came from Maine with a certain young man who was part of General Washington’s retinue when they visited neighboring Waterford. That nameless man had spent a day hiking in the area and discovered our falls, where he met a farmer’s daughter. This was long before there was a town here. But the boy didn’t forget the girl or this place. When his work for Washington was over, he came back to find her. He brought the seeds from his home and planted them here. Now that tree’s great-something-grandchild stands in the center of our town square. Waiting. Lamar and his assistants”—she pointed to the town handyman and the scouting troop who’d helped him—“spent last week stringing lights on it, as well as down Main Street and throughout the square. And I for one want to say thank you.” The audience clapped, too. She saw Jenny and her kids over to the right. Ivy was clapping hard and laughing at something Jenny had said.

“And I want to thank Lincoln Lighting for defraying the cost of the decorations. They are a new member of the Cupid Falls business community. For those who haven’t heard, our new LED lights are powered by the solar panels Lincoln Lighting provided for City Hall. So, our display isn’t just red and green, it’s actually very
green
as well.” Everyone laughed again.

Kennedy loved these moments—moments when she realized she
had
the audience. She wasn’t some big-time politician, but even the mayor of a small town had to speak in public. The first few times, she’d been terrified. But eventually, she stopped trying to read from a script and she’d simply talked to her audience. Most of the time, she had a moment like thi
s . . .
a moment when she knew they were engaged with what she had to say.

When the laughter died down, she said, “I think that’s it. I want to wish everyone a magical holiday season. And without any further ad
o . . .
”

Kennedy put her hand on a plunger that looked like one of the old TNT plungers that Bugs Bunny used. It really didn’t do anything. Lamar used it as a signal to plug in the lights. He would actually be the one lighting everything.

“Ten, nine, eigh
t . . .
” she started.

The crowd joined in. “Seven, six, five, four, three, tw
o . . .
” they all chanted with her.

“
. . .
on
e . . .
” She pushed the switch and Lamar did his magic. The tree lit up, and so did the rest of the lights in the park and along Main Street. The red and green LED lights cast a different glow than the old incandescent bulbs had.

The crowd made a long
awww
sound and then clapped.

“Please, everyone, help yourself to the free hot cocoa and cookies. Be sure to thank the ladies of Falls Creek Church for donating their time and the wonderful treats.”

“And me,” Clarence yelled.

“The ladies and Clarence,” Kennedy corrected herself, and laughter rang out through the crowd.

The tree in front of her glowed.

Main Street did, too. Kennedy couldn’t help but admire the banners with cupid figures dressed in Santa outfits that hung beneath each light. Tomorrow there was going to be an ad in the Erie paper with that same design that said
Come Fall in Love with Christmas in Cupid Falls
.

The crowd applauded again. Kennedy stepped down from the gazebo. She was congratulated left and right as she made her way through the crowd. She wasn’t sure where Malcolm had gone. Not that it mattered. They’d walked together, not really come as a couple.

“Nice job, Mayor,” Lincoln Gates said. He was a tall, good-looking man. He was new to Cupid Falls, so she had no childhood memories to compare him to, but she suspected he was a Clooney, too. He wasn’t quite six foot, and though she couldn’t make them out in the glow of the Christmas lights, she knew that his eyes were blue. Every woman in Cupid Falls between the ages of thirteen and ninety knew that. He had dark hair that had the slightest touch of grey at the temples. Not a grey that said, “look, I’m getting older,” but rather a grey that said, “hey, notice how unbelievably good-looking I am.”

But beyond his looks, which were simply a gift of good genetics, Lincoln was nice. And that, more than anything else, was what made him so appealing to the female population of Cupid Falls.

He shot her a dazzling smile and said, “Everything looks wonderful, Mayor.”

Pretty much any other woman would swoon if Lincoln smiled at them like that, but though she registered his looks, they didn’t affect her that way. Kennedy chalked up her nonswooning to her advanced pregnancy. “Everything does look wonderful, and a big part of that is thanks to you, Linc.”

“I told you when we opened the plant I wanted Lincoln Lighting to be a part of the community.” He offered her his arm.

Kennedy wasn’t sure what it was that made all men think she’d lost her ability to walk simply because she was pregnant, but she took Linc’s arm. “Well, you are an important part of the community. The jobs have been a godsend, but more than that, Lincoln Lighting has given us all a sense of pride. Knowing that we’re instrumental in making something that’s going to help save the environment.”