Approximately Yours (North Pole, Minnesota #3)(57)

How could he have ever believed this girl didn’t like him, that she’d treat him like garbage? And why had he let himself believe that? She was only here for another week. He could’ve let her go forever without telling her how he felt. He could’ve gone his entire life without knowing what it was like to hold Holly Page in his arms. That was a terrifying thought. “Want to do it again?”

She leaned closer to him, and their lips touched. They only gave in for a second, breathing each other’s air. “We really need to go.” Her mouth was still touching his when she said it. “I don’t want you to miss the blue-ribbon ceremony.”

“Right.” Now he was wearing a perma-grin. She had no idea he’d had Brian pick up her showstopper. Holly could really win this thing. As much as Danny loved trophies, he wanted that for her. And for her grandmother.

“So,” she said as she pulled away from the curb, “is it too soon to ask what now? I mean, we kissed. I’m leaving. What the hell are we doing?”

He held out his hand, and she laced her fingers in his. Their hands belonged like this. They fit together perfectly. “Let’s take it slow, all right? Let’s not talk about what we are or aren’t. I’m holding Holly Page’s hand, and that’s enough right now.”

Holly grabbed one of the employee parking spots right behind Santabucks, and they dashed down the street—as fast as Danny’s crutches could carry him. Holly threw open the door of the town hall, and the two of them hurried inside, where they were greeted by applause and cheering. Danny startled, glancing around, trying to figure out what was going on. Had he won the contest? Had Holly?

But no. The crowd wasn’t cheering for them. Everyone was looking at a big screen in the back of the room, upon which was playing a slideshow of Holly’s grandmother. Elda motioned for the two of them to sit next to her, and they did.

As the slides flew by behind him, the mayor stood up on the dais and said, “We lost one of our own this year, one of our most enthusiastic gingerbread competitors, Mrs. Dolores Page.”

Everyone clapped.

“Dolores embodied the spirit of North Pole. She was a great neighbor and a great citizen. She participated in every event—even the Stash Grab contest last year, where she won third place. Dolores loved her friends and her family. We’re so glad to have some of them here tonight.”

Danny checked on Holly and Elda sitting next to him. The girls were holding hands, and a tear ran down Holly’s cheek. Danny, feeling inadequate for not having a tissue or a handkerchief, handed Holly the scarf from around his neck. She smiled and dabbed at her face.

“People come and go from this town all the time, and there are only a few constants, the real townies. This year we lost one of those pillars of our community, and she will be missed.”

The mayor turned around and watched as the slideshow continued to play.

“This is the memorial Grandma would’ve wanted,” Holly whispered.

“She totally would’ve dug it,” Elda said. “She loved this place more than anything.”

Danny turned to them. “Your grandma.” He shook his head. “I can’t even imagine someone else living in that house.”

“Us either.” Holly’s other hand grabbed Danny’s.

He’d experienced so many recent life changes that losing his elderly next-door neighbor had seemed like one of the smaller ones. But Dolores had always been there for him, Brian, and their mom. She had their spare key. She invited them for dinner once a month, at least. He mowed her lawn and weeded her garden in the summertime, and she made him cookies and lemonade as a thank you. And now someone else would’ve been living in her house. Dolores was gone. Her family was leaving and never coming back.

But he couldn’t get all sad about it now. Holly was here for another week. They still had a bunch of holiday festivities to get through. Now was not the time to be sad. Now was the time to be grateful for all the things he did have, the things he could’ve very easily missed out on if he hadn’t allowed himself to open up. He squeezed Holly’s hand, and she squeezed back.

The mayor stepped up to the microphone again. “It is time now to announce the winner of this year’s gingerbread contest.”

“Wait. Is that my showstopper?” Holly pointed to the table at the front of the room, where all the competitors’ entries had been displayed.

“I may have had my brother sneak it out of your garage,” Danny said.

Holly squeezed his hand and didn’t let go.

“In third place.” The mayor squinted at the card in front of him, then looked up, grinning. “Tinka Foster!”

Tinka stayed in her seat for a moment, frowning. But then she leaned over and hugged Sam before trudging up to receive her award.

“In second place…my goodness, our own Craig Cooper.”

Craig’s jaw dropped. So did Danny’s. If Craig was in second place, that meant…what? That Brian hadn’t gotten Holly’s entry here on time? That’d she’d been disqualified for bringing in a late entry? He glanced over at the display table. His basketball court was great but couldn’t hold a candle to Holly’s house. She should not lose on a technicality. Danny was about to run up to the podium in protest, when the mayor started speaking again.

“And in first place, winner of the coveted gingerbread trophy, the Stanley Cup of North Pole, plus a one-hundred-dollar gift certificate to Joyeaux Noel is…”