“Remote starts are awesome,” she said as he stomped his feet off.
Bryce chuckled. “I wish I had one. Let’s give it a minute to warm up.”
The snow was still coming down. Memory stood at the window and watched the neighbor’s Christmas lights turn the white flakes to a multitude of colors, reflecting on the conversation she’d had with her dad earlier. Was it fair for her to tell him to acknowledge his feelings when she wasn’t ready to face hers?
“Ready?”
“Yeah.” She’d have to ponder that idea later. Making sure her coat was zipped up all the way, she followed him out the door, securing the lock behind her.
“It looks like it’s let up some,” her dad said, opening the passenger door of his pickup truck for her.
“Not enough,” Memory muttered climbing in and hooking her seatbelt. Bryce pulled out and carefully made his way along the road. Thank goodness it was only a couple of blocks to the square. She hoped Ellie had gotten a ride with Dak so she wouldn’t have to drive in this. It was dark now, save the lights from the street and the houses, the moon and stars obscured by the clouds heavy with snow. Memory had definitely made the right decision not driving in this.
Her dad found a parking spot in one of the lots near the square, and Memory prepared herself to be frozen for the next couple of hours. The snow was still crunchy, not frozen yet, so that was a positive. Falling on her keister in front of Dak wasn’t an appealing thought—yet another reason to avoid the skating party.
He was already at the gazebo when they got there. Memory wasn’t surprised. Punctuality seemed to be his middle name. A few other people from church were huddled together chatting, and Bryce went over to speak to them as Memory approached the attractive man in the black coat with caution. “You remembered your hat.”
“And my earmuffs,” he pointed out. “How are you?”
“Cold.”
“How could you be cold? You’re bundled up.” He grinned at her.
“My nose is cold. I should’ve worn a ski mask.”
“But then I wouldn’t be able to see your beautiful smile.”
Memory rolled her eyes, and they both laughed at the cheesy comment. “No one would be able to tell I wasn’t singing.”
“True. I’d know, though.”
She snickered. “You’d definitely know if I was. So would all of the alley cats.”
“Mem—stop. It can’t be that bad.”
Rather than trying to explain to him just how awful a singer she was, Memory decided to change the subject, noting the warmth that seemed to radiate throughout her body when he called her Mem. “I was hoping Ellie would ride with you.”
“She ended up not being able to come,” he explained. “Kirsten mentioned she needed a sitter for Anson, so Ellie decided to watch him at her house instead.”
“Oh.” Memory wasn’t sure what to think about that. It seemed a little odd that her sister would ask her co-worker to watch her son and not mention it. But then, Ellie didn’t belong to Memory, and she would only be in town a few more days. As would the man in front of her, should he be unable to find a suitable property. “How did your search go today?”
Dak made a face. “Not well. I did check out the inside of the old factory, though. It’s in pretty good shape considering it was built in 1889.”
“Yeah, well it was in full operation for most of those years. It was only a few years ago when Mr. Clark passed away that the family decided not to keep the business going.” She didn’t mean to make a face, but it happened just the same. Dak raised a questioning eyebrow at her. “I just hate it when someone passes away and their family doesn’t seem to care about something they worked so hard for.”
“Maybe Mr. Clark’s descendants have different dreams than he had. Shouldn’t they be able to do whatever they feel compelled to do without having to concentrate on something they might not find fulfilling?”
It was her turn to raise an eyebrow. “Sure—but that business had been in their family for years. Now, the building sits empty. And so many people lost their livelihood because of it.”
“That sounds like a pretty big burden to inherit.”
“They all live in Indianapolis, so they don’t even care.”
“It would’ve been hard to run the business from that far away.”
“They could’ve moved.”
“Maybe they love Indianapolis.”
“Maybe they would love Christmas Falls if they gave it a try.”
“Maybe we should stop talking about this because your face is turning red, and I don’t think it’s a sunburn.”
Memory took a deep breath and shook her head. “I’m sorry—I’m not mad. I just... I don’t know how you can understand. You don’t live here. You didn’t see what happened when all of those people lost their jobs.”
“True. And I also haven’t lost someone I love who left an important building in my care.” He tipped his head to the side and shrugged, implying that he understood her argument wasn’t solely about the factory. Memory’s face felt like it was on fire. She’d let her own emotions get entangled with her conviction about fixing the factory.
She wouldn’t get a chance to say that at the moment though as Kirsten’s family headed over. Lorelei wasn’t as fast in her snowsuit but she still hurled herself at each of them, her hugs a little softer through so many layers. “How are you, Lorelou?” Dak asked her.
“You know that’s not my name, Uncle Dak,” she said, her tone very matter-of-fact. “It’s cold, but I’m ready to sing.”
“Me, too.”
“Not Aunt Memory, though,” Kirsten said with a smirk. “I am shocked you’re here. I figured you’d find a way to bow out.”
Shrugging, Memory said, “Some people just won’t take no for an answer.”
Dak chuckled. “I think I am some people.”
“I think you must be.” Kirsten smiled at him. “By the way, we went over to the shelter today because Lorelei wanted to pet the dogs, and Kim told me what you did. I was shocked! Do you have any idea what she can do with that amount of money?”
Dak shifted uncomfortably. “I was just glad to help.”
“Well, I’d say you did. And there were only two dogs left to pet! Lorelei’s going to have to find a new place to volunteer her services.”
“Or maybe Santa will bring me a puppy for Christmas,” Lorelei chimed in as Maison shouted for them to come over to where he was standing with a group of families. He waved at Memory and Dak, who waved back.
Kirsten sighed. “I guess we should go say hi.” Looking down at her daughter she added, “I don’t think Santa delivers puppies, honey.” As Lorelei attempted to reason that she’d seen it on a movie, Kirsten said, “Anyway, it was pretty cool you did that, Dak. And I can’t blame them for giving you two the trophy under the circumstances. If I have a hundred thousand dollars to donate, maybe I’ll win next year.” She bumped Memory in the arm with the back of her fist for emphasis and then took Lorelei’s hand. “Come on, let’s go see Daddy.”
“See you, Lor,” Memory said, her eyes still bulging out of her head as she processed the number her sister had spewed.
“By Lorelou!” The little girl sung back her name pronounced correctly, and Dak smiled at her retreating form. “She’s so cute.”
“Yeah, and she really likes you.”
“I’m glad someone does.” He squinted at Memory in a way that let her know he was mostly teasing but also unsure of where she stood.