12. Lottie

LOTTIE

O nce things died down at the bakery, I called my mother and asked where I might find Eudora Fairbanks. She let me know that the Purple Bonnet Society—or Purple Santa Hat Society as she reminded me, seeing that they change their name each year for the month of December—is having a fundraiser over at the Jolly Holly Tree Lot that sits just above her B&B.

That's all I needed to know.

It's not quite evening, but it's dark as pitch out thanks to the ominous clouds sitting over Honey Hollow. I bundled up Lyla Nell and hopped into my minivan—Carlotta hopped in, too, but there wasn't a lot I could do about that and the three of us hightailed it right over.

"Stepping into the Jolly Holly Tree Lot is like tumbling headfirst into a snow globe," I say, pushing Lyla Nell's all-terrain stroller ahead of us as we make our way toward the tree lot. "Only this snow globe is filled with the scent of pine and the sound of carolers."

True as gospel.

The place is buzzing with a festive frenzy as throngs of people weave through rows of evergreens like kids in a candy store and their breath fogs up in the chilly air.

Twinkle lights crisscross overhead like a sea of makeshift stars, while carolers dressed as Dickens' characters roam the grounds singing cheery holiday tunes. I can smell a bonfire coming from somewhere, along with the scent of peppermint and chocolate that call to me ( and the twins) like a siren song. I may not know much about my twins just yet, but one thing is for sure—they're a couple of chocoholics. And after discovering the gender of Everett's mystery children, odds are that Lyla Nell and Evie are about to welcome a couple of more sisters into the world.

In front of us sits a large sign staked into the ground with slats of wood nailed all the way down fashioned to look like arrows, and each one points you in the direction of a different activity.

"Check this out, Lot," Carlotta says, stepping that way. "They've got sleigh rides, bounce houses, hot cocoa and cookies, a petting zoo, sledding, and Santa's workshop!"

"Wow, they've really upped their jolly holly game this year," I muse.

The Jolly Holly Tree Lot has been a staple in Honey Hollow just as much as Santa himself. I've been coming here each year since I was Lyla Nell's age.

I nod toward the hub of activity ahead of us. "Mom mentioned that Eudora would be working the bizarre. I'm pretty sure that's code for Santa's workshop. She mentioned they had all sorts of craft booths with handmade art, scarves, hats, and earrings. You know, stuff like that."

"Do people really buy that junk?"

" Carlotta ." I make a face at her. "It is not junk. It's a beautiful thing when people take the time to make something for someone. And if you buy something handmade, you're not just supporting the people who made it, but you're buying something extra special for the ones you love. It's a win-win."

"So that's where the money's at."

"It would figure you'd leap right to greed," I say as I wheel Lyla Nell through the glorious evergreens. A red and white striped tent with fresh-cut traditional firs and nobles sits to our left, while the tent to our right is brimming with flocked trees. Most of those flocked trees are snow white, but there is a smattering of pink, blue, and even lavender trees.

" Mommy! " Lyla Nell does her best to stretch right out of her stroller as she leans toward the colorful flocked beauties among us. Good thing she's strapped in. However, with her determination, I'm not sure that little seat belt will be able to hold her back. "Pretty trees! I want pretty trees!"

"Hear that, Lot? She wants what she wants," Carlotta blathers. "You know what to do next. Buy her the whole darn tree lot or we'll have to listen to her yip and whine all night."

"Oh, she will not," I say, trying my best to push us past the pastel stunners as we head for Santa's workshop even though I know darn well she'll find something else to whine all night about. But I'd never say that part out loud.

We take a few more steps and spot the head elf himself.

Just behind the tents there is a mass of humanity in line to see the man in a red suit seated on a glitzy golden throne. A couple of elves—women elves—are handing out candy canes and taking pictures of the children taking turns sitting on Santa's lap.

" Sasa! " Lyla Nell screams in terror and pulls her blanket up over her face.

"She's not Santa's biggest fan," I say, cringing slightly at the fact my poor child seems to be traumatized by the man. "It happened last week at the mall as well. Keelie and I took the kids to get their picture with Santa, and Lyla Nell nearly jumped right out of her skin."

"Why is that?" Carlotta asks, looking perfectly stymied. "You'd think she'd like the thought of a man in a snazzy suit wanting her to sit on his lap in exchange for presents. It's a dream come true, I tell you. Why, I've been in love with the fat man for as long as I can remember. In fact, once that line dies down, I'm heading over to sit in the big guy's lap myself."

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," someone says from behind and we both turn around and gasp.