Chapter Eight

By the time they arrived at the Winter Wonderland Festival and found a place to park, Trudy was already laughing and enjoying herself. 

Ward had such funny stories about his son. While it was sad that things hadn’t worked out with his ex-wife, Nancy, it was nice that she and Ward seemed to keep things friendly enough that their son, Will, got plenty of time with both parents. 

“Here we go,” Ward said, opening her door for her. “Mind if I do the honors?”

“Oh,” Trudy said, looking down at the urn she was holding between her legs. “Um, sure.”

He leaned in, giving her a teasing whiff of his spicy aftershave.

She watched him lift the massive urn without batting an eye.

“What?” he asked, catching her looking.

“You’re very strong,” she said.

“Well, that comes from growing up on a farm,” he said, laughing. “But I’ll still use a hand walking with it to keep it balanced. If you don’t mind.”

“Of course not,” she told him, hopping out of the truck.

She headed over and took one handle, leaving him with the other, and they walked very slowly from the street. The liquid inside wanted to slosh with every step. She found herself matching Ward’s pace in order to prevent a terrible spill. 

They made their way slowly past the community center, with the larger furniture items out in the parking lot for show. 

Sure enough, Betty Ann was chatting with a couple about a massive antique dresser. She gave Trudy a little wave as she walked past and Trudy nodded back, so as not to endanger the chocolate.

They walked past Valerie Leighton’s jewelry booth, where Valerie was disdainfully observing a pair of middle school girls who were exclaiming over tiny earrings that looked like raindrops hanging from a velvet tree. 

She smiled when she saw Trudy though, and gave her a little wave. Valerie had stayed at the inn until day before yesterday because of a leaky roof at her apartment. Trudy would never understand how she’d gotten a repairman out on Christmas day. But Valerie was tough and demanding, and people had a way of doing what she said without asking questions.

“Oh, now would you look at that?” Ward said, jutting his chin toward the booth for Carla’s Place. 

Natalie was playing guitar while Shane’s son, Wyatt, stood beside her signing his heart out to an old Johnny Cash song. The two of them looked like they had been playing together forever. It warmed Trudy’s heart to see it. 

“Thanks so much,” Shane said when they approached. 

“Oh, Trudy, is that your peppermint hot chocolate?” Ginny Davies asked with a big smile.

“It sure is,” Trudy said. “Once Ward and I get it up on the table, I’ll grab the cups out of my bag.”

Ginny unsubtly shifted her gaze to Ward, looking the professor in the cowboy hat up and down appreciatively. 

Trudy tried to ignore the little flare of possessiveness she felt. She didn’t own Ward Sullivan. And anyway, her feelings were complicated. 

A little voice in her head asked if that was really so.

Did there really need to be anything complicated about something so simple?

Once the hot chocolate was settled, she laid out cups, lids, and napkins on a weighed holder.

“You thought of everything, Trudy,” Shane said. “Thank you.”

“It’s an honor to be asked,” she told him.

He smiled at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Shane Cassidy had always been a nice boy, and now he was a handsome man. Natalie was a lucky girl.

“I guess we’ll be off to check out the festival,” she told him. “But you let us know if you need anything, or if you just want a break to stretch your legs. I have experience at the front desk, after all.”

“Thank you kindly,” Shane said. 

“Shall we?’ Ward asked. 

She nodded, and they headed off further into the parking lot. 

There were little pop-up booths from some of the local shops and artists. And of course, there were tables of baked goods. 

At one table, Shirley Ladd was ladling out cups of her famous chicken and dumpling soup from a massive copper pot while two of her granddaughters cut and buttered thick slabs of her fresh homemade bread.

“Soup, Trudy?” Shirley called out to her. “It’s to benefit the local shelter.”

“Oh, hi, Shirley,” Trudy called back to her. “Ward, that soup is really delicious, and it’s a good cause. Can I treat you to lunch to say thank you for helping me out today?”

“Twist my arm,” he teased. “And don’t be silly. It’s a pleasure to spend the day with you.”

“Two please,” Trudy said when they got over to Shirley. 

“Well, hey there, Ward,” Shirley said. “Peter’s around here somewhere.”

“You two know each other?” Trudy asked with a smile. 

“Oh, Ward comes over to play cards with the boys from time to time,” Shirley said. “And Peter’s always shocked when he beats him.”

“Never play cards with a math man,” Ward joked, winking at Trudy. “Good thing for him we play for pennies.”

Ward waved her away when she tried to pay, and he asked Shirley to put his change in the collection box for the shelter, which made Shirley smile at him like he was a superhero.

They took their soup and bread and walked around, taking in the sights as they ate. 

Out on the far side of the field, one of the rangers from the National Park was using a chainsaw to carve an ice sculpture. It was too soon to make out what it was, but lots of people were gathered at a safe distance to watch, while the local news crew filmed. 

On the near side of the field, a snowman competition was being judged. Most of the snowmen were iffy-looking at best, but everyone seemed to be having a fantastic time. 

Joe Cassidy was acting as an announcer of sorts, sitting on a lawn chair with a karaoke machine and microphone, pointing out the highlights of each snowman, no matter how pathetic it might look.

Trudy couldn’t help but notice the sheriff and the new pre-school teacher were studying a particularly terrible snowman, their heads leaned together, while the sheriff’s boy leaned on the teacher’s hip, smiling up at her like she hung the stars.

“Hm,” Trudy said thoughtfully to herself. 

“What?” Ward asked. “Did you want to build a snowman?”

“Maybe later,” she laughed. 

The delicious scent of grilled meat and veggies wafted toward them from where the Trinity Falls Fire Company was making burgers, kebobs and dogs. 

“Hey there,” Ashton Beck yelled to them. “Shirley’s soup is the perfect appetizer for a cheeseburger. She’ll tell you so herself.”

“Maybe later,” Trudy said with a smile. “Have you had a good showing?”

“Almost out of dogs,” Ashton said proudly. “It’s a nice cold day, so people have good appetites.”

Ashton had been a star athlete, but he never let it go to his head. It was lovely to see him living here in Trinity Falls instead of disappearing to the city like so many promising young people did.

She couldn’t help noticing Ward stepping over and quietly shoving a bill in the collection can while she chatted with Ashton. 

He caught her glancing over and she smiled at him approvingly. 

“We always support our neighbors and our town,” she remembered her dad telling them whenever her mother scolded him for giving away a weekend in their best room for a raffle.

It seemed that Ward shared his values. Somehow, that felt like home to her in a way she had never realized she craved. 

“Did you want to look at the sale in the community hall?” Ward asked her as they waved goodbye to Ashton. 

She glanced up at him. 

He wore an expression so neutral it was clear he was trying hard not to wince.

“I’ve already got too many family antiques, there’s no room at the inn,” she quipped. “But thank you.”

He chuckled and shook his head. 

“You dodged a bullet, right?” she teased him. “But that was very nice of you to offer to go shopping for antiques. You’re a good man.”

“I don’t mind shopping,” he told her, his blue eyes twinkling. “As a matter of fact, I always make a point to pick up a book or two at the festival. You wouldn’t want to join me for that, would you?”

​“Ward,” she said, delighted. “I would love to.”

“Let’s go right away then,” he said. “I don’t want anyone else snatching up all the best ones.”

She laughed and they headed past the children’s activities on the way to the church entrance. 

Grace Cassidy and Chris Bell were standing by the church playground area, watching Shane’s daughter, Rumor, tear around with a couple of other kids. Grace was holding baby Izzy, who looked wide awake and excited. And Molly, the service dog, stood by Chris’s side. 

They looked so at home together. It did Trudy’s heart good to know they had found each other again at her beloved inn.

​When they got to the door of the church, Ward removed his hat with one hand and opened the door for her with the other. 

His silvering hair was a little too long, and she found herself wanting to brush it out of his eyes. 

“Thank you,” she said instead, stepping inside. 

After the cold outside, the church felt warm and cozy. A volunteer pointed them to the sanctuary. 

​The pews had been moved to the outside walls for the day, allowing space for long wooden tables of books. Light poured in through the stained glass windows, casting a rosy glow on everything within.

Just like always, the people browsing were quiet and respectful. The large, echoing space encouraged talking softly and moving silently.

She caught sight of one of the boys from the mechanic’s shop in town who had once fixed a flat tire for her, free of charge. She smiled at him and he nodded back, then turned his eyes hungrily back to the stacks. 

“What kind of books do you like?” Ward whispered. 

“All kinds,” she told him honestly. “But I have a soft spot for romance and mystery.”

“I like a good mystery myself,” he told her with a crinkly-eyed smile. 

They headed over to the section with the handwritten index card that said Mysteries.

“Oh, goodness, I don’t have this one,” Trudy said, spotting the newest Louise Penny book.

She lifted it up, feeling like she had just won the lottery. 

“Well, I’ll be,” Ward said, going still beside her. 

“What?” she asked. 

“Open it,” he said.

He leaned to look over her shoulder as she opened it. 

A handwritten name was in the top right corner of the title page, on a handsome bookplate with two rearing horses on it. It read:

From the Library of: Ward Sullivan

“No,” Trudy breathed. 

“What are the chances?” Ward asked softly. 

He was standing so close that she could smell his aftershave again. 

“I thought statistics would be more your area,” she whispered. “How many books did you donate this year?”

“A box, but only half full,” he told her. “Maybe twenty?”

They both looked around the room at the endless tables covered in books. 

“It was the first one you picked up,” he said, his voice awed.

They spent the rest of the day happily wandering the festival and talking to friends and neighbors. By the time the sun began to sink, Trudy was feeling sleepy and content. 

They had each picked up half a dozen books, enjoyed burgers with the fire crew for dinner, and even bumped into and visited with several of Trudy’s nieces and nephews.

The families with children were packing up now. And teens from Trinity Falls High were slinking around, buying up what was left of the baked goods and swinging on the swings, watching the sun go down. 

“This was so lovely, Ward,” she told him, a yawn interrupting the middle of his name. 

“I think it’s time to get you home,” he chuckled. “Ready for a ride, Trudy Williams.”

“Yes, sir,” she said with a smile.

When they got to the truck, he held her door open for her. 

As she sat and looked up at him, she felt a strange combination of excitement and familiarity. It was as if he was brand new to her, and yet somehow, he felt just like home. 

“Penny for your thoughts,” he offered, hesitating at her door.

“Save it for your card game,” she said. “I’ll tell you for free that I had fun today.”

“Me too,” he said, gazing at her in a way that made her feel melty inside.

He drove her home in silence, but it was a hopeful silence, full of possibility. When they reached the lake and the lane of trees, Trudy felt a certainty settle over her. 

It was almost like a physical sensation, yet nothing she could have described in words. She felt freed, and yet also perfectly anchored to her home and to herself.

This is my sign. 

Whether it came from Philip, or her memory of him, or her own innate sense of what she wanted and was ready for, it didn’t matter now. 

She willed herself to remain calm as her pulse thrummed. She wondered what would come next, even as she knew to her soul that whatever it was, she was ready for it.

The tires crunched on the gravel as Ward pulled up in the lot. 
When he came to her side to open her door, the last of the setting sun silhouetted him, and she was reminded of the cowboy on the billboards again. 

He offered her his hand to help her down, and she took it.

But when she was safely on the gravel, he didn’t let go. 

She felt as light as a feather as they picked their way through the snowy lot to the front door of the inn together. 

Every tiny detail seemed to illuminate itself to Trudy as they stepped up to the door. She felt the cold, fresh air in her lungs, drank in the scent of his aftershave mixing with the evergreen wreath hanging from its bronze hook. 

Even the twilight seemed to be playfully glimmering on the surface of the lake, and shimmering in the snow, putting even the twinkly Christmas lights of the houses across the lake to shame. 

“Trudy,” he said as they reached their destination, his voice a little husky. 

She turned to him, tilting her chin up to gaze bravely into those twinkly blue eyes. This handsome, math-loving cowboy was obviously meant to be hers. Both their fates had led them here, to her doorstep, on this magical winter night. 

He paused, studying her face, as if she might contain the answers to every mystery, mathematical or spiritual, in the galaxy. 

He’s going to kiss me.

She felt as light as air, as sure as the sunrise.

Then he looked away. 

“I’ll call on you again sometime,” he said roughly, squeezing her hand.

He let go, and turned and strode back toward his truck, his boots crunching in the snowy gravel.
​
Trudy stood outside her own front door for a long time, wondering what she had done wrong.

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