Chapter Seven - Trudy

Trudy hummed to herself as she poured the last batch of her famous peppermint hot chocolate into the oversized urn.

The Winter Wonderland Festival was a very special day in Trinity Falls, and Trudy had experienced it every year since before she was old enough to remember. 

Each year, between Christmas and New Year’s, the town and the Presbyterian Church partnered to provide space for every fun community activity imaginable. Between the community hall, the church, and the parking lot in between, there was so much going on. 

In the community hall, neighbors set up a huge shared yard sale with furniture, kitchen things, and other useful items. Betty Ann Eustace had been running the sale for the last twenty years, and she was a fearsome curator of content. Only useful items in good condition could be sold. And anything that didn’t sell was donated to a local charity at the end of the day.

An enormous used book sale took place in the church. Row upon row of paperbacks were available for a quarter each. Hardbacks and equipment manuals were fifty cents. With the light coming in through the stained glass windows, the space felt as magical and reverent as any library.

Trinity Falls had harsh winters, so even some of the folks you’d least expect liked to curl up with a good book during those snowy days. As a girl, she had been amazed to the see the names of various grown-ups around town scrawled into the covers of her beloved paperback hauls every year. 

In the parking lot between the church and community hall was where the real fun was for anyone who preferred socializing to bargain-hunting. Tables encouraging folks to join various clubs were set up between booths selling baked goods and handmade treasures. And the fire company always had a grill going with burgers and dogs. 

Bouncy houses, art activities and more were set up for the kids these days, too. Though when Trudy was a little girl, she had mainly looked forward to seeing her friends and riding their sleds down the small hill next to the parking lot that led down into the community college soccer field.

Visiting the festival each year was such fun, but she could never volunteer due to the number of guests she normally had at the inn during the holidays.

This year, she got to be a real part of it.

A sense of community pride warmed her chest as she untied her apron and hung it on the wall hook.

She had just opened her mouth to call Chad to help her load the urn, when she realized he couldn’t. He was still on his crutches.
“Oh dear,” she said to herself, checking her watch.

She darted out to the foyer to find Chad organizing the paperclips in the little cup at the desk. He had been doing stuff like this more often lately. She was sure he was getting bored. 

“What’s up, Trudy?” he asked her hopefully.

She made a mental note to come up with some easy tasks he could do while sitting down. The poor child needed to feel useful as badly as she did.

“Well, I’ve got myself in a pickle,” she told him. “I can’t carry the urn by myself, and I certainly can’t drive it over without someone holding it. I wonder if there’s time to call in one of the Cassidys to help out.”

“Oh, no need,” Chad told her. “I already called Ward.”

“You did?” she asked, her eyes wide.

“Sure did,” he told her. “He had my number from when I special-ordered a replacement fixture for the third floor tub. He texted when he heard I was hurt, to offer a hand if needed. I figured he would’t mind an easy job like this.”

“Oh,” Trudy said, feeling her cheeks heat and hoping Chad didn’t notice.

She’d had such a lovely time walking with Ward the other day. But it hadn’t felt right to go back into town looking for him. And he hadn’t asked for her number. 

“He’ll be here in ten minutes,” Chad added with a big smile.

“Great,” Trudy said. “I’ll just go get ready.”

She jogged up to her rooms, trying to decide what to wear.

She had planned on a pretty, wintry outfit with a long skirt and boots, and an oversized sweater with her pearls. But now she wasn’t so sure. 

Would it look like she was trying to impress Ward?

“You can’t worry about that,” she told herself in the mirror. “You do you.”

But that didn’t mean her hands didn’t tremble a little as she tried to clasp her pearls. 

“You used to do this part for me,” she whispered to Philip.

She often whispered to him, and sometimes she swore she could hear him chuckle in response. 

“Does it bother you that I’m going to see your friend?” she whispered. 

Of course it had just been a walk, and now it was just a ride. But she sensed the intention behind Ward’s attentions, even though he was taking it so slowly that it was almost imperceptible. 

And she always told Philip the truth. 

She closed her eyes, wondering if she would hear his voice in her mind. But she heard nothing at all. 

Philip was gone. She knew that. But sometimes talking with him brought her comfort anyway. 

“Well, I’m on my own I guess,” she whispered to him, looking in the mirror again.

Though she sometimes thought of herself as an old widow woman, she was often surprised when she looked in the mirror. 
Her hair was still mostly chestnut, and she liked her distinctive silver streaks. She was fit and strong from hard work. And of course, her best feature had always been the sparkling green of her eyes, and they were the same as ever.

“I’m just going to have a fun day at the Winter Wonderland Festival,” she whispered to herself and to Philip. “We won’t worry about anything but that.”

As she headed downstairs again, she felt centered and good. And when Chad smiled up at her, she was able to smile back at him calmly.

“Ward’s here already,” he told her. 

“Where is he?” she asked, looking around the foyer. 

“He headed into the kitchen to get the lay of the land,” Chad said, looking impressed. “Wanted to know what he was up against.”

“I’ll just go help,” Trudy decided, heading to the kitchen. 

“Hello there,” Ward said, looking up from the urn with a smile.
 
He was so handsome in the soft light from the window that she was almost taken aback. 

“Hi,” she said, a little breathlessly. “Do you have a strategy in mind for getting it to the car? I was thinking we’d each take a handle.”

“And then what?” he asked. 

“Well, normally, someone else would drive and I’d hold the urn,” she said. “I’ve got a good way of doing it.”

“Let’s do that, then,” Ward said. “I can drive.”

Trudy bit her lip. She was intending on spending the whole day at the festival, but surely she could grab a ride home with a friend.

“Of course I’ll spend the day at the festival,” Ward said quickly, as if he had read her mind. “If you don’t mind a little company, I thought we could enjoy it together.”

“That sounds lovely,” she told him, feeling the rest of her doubts melt way.

He winked at her. 
​
And this time, she enjoyed the little thrill of awareness.

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