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I nod.
“Will you accompany us tonight as we sing Christmas carols?”
“I’d be honored.”
Everyone is complimentary, even Brady, and I’m surprised he noticed anything outside of his book, but as we continue on our way, I can’t shake the discomfort I feel about the situation. No one cares I stopped and sang on a public street, but I recall a date Spencer and I went on over the summer when I started singing a song as we strolled down a busy sidewalk. I don’t remember why. Probably something he said reminded me of the lyrics. Spencer looked around to see if anyone noticed and thenshushedme.
If Spencer were here, he wouldn’t be complimentary like the rest of his family; he’d be embarrassed that I joined in with a busker.
“Hey, are you okay?” Owen asks.
“Yeah, of course,” is my rote response.
But I’m not okay. I’ve prepared myself to keep my expectations low as Spencer’s fiancée and future wife, but this is the first time I’ve considered what I would have to give up of myself in order to fit into his world. To him, teaching music is my profession, but to me, music is my lifeblood. I love performing and feel no shame singing in public.
I’m not sure what to do with this realization, or even ifthere is anything to do. I follow behind the group and pretend not to notice Owen shooting me concerned glances.
At Town Hall, we pick up our voting sheets and the map. York must be a popular vacation spot because the main part of town isn’t big, but there are thirteen locations participating in the challenge within eleven small blocks.
Rheta plans out a route so that we walk in a big, wobbly loop. Rheta, Miles, and Marianne lead. Brady reads as he walks. Owen keeps looking my way.
I focus on the happy, festive people we pass and the trees we visit. My mood lifts enough for me to convince myself that Spencer and I will both adapt as we merge two very different lives. We’ll come to appreciate what the other offers to our marriage. I don’t believe it yet, but if I repeat it enough times, I’m sure it will become a reality.
Most of the trees we visit have themes, Like ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas,The Polar Express, andToy Story. One tree has flocked white branches and only purple decorations. Another is decorated with colored ornaments in a rainbow pattern. They’re amazing, and I take pictures of them all, but not as many as I do of my favorite tree titled “Candy Cane Land.” It’s decorated with red bows, small white ornaments, and hundreds of candy canes.
As we walk back to city hall to drop off our ballots, Owen comes up beside me and asks, “Why do you love candy canes so much? I noticed how you gave them out to everyone at Brock Pine and now that tree. You must have taken a hundred pictures.”
I’m grateful for a distraction from my thoughts about Spencer.
“My mom loved candy canes. Anything peppermint,really, but specifically candy canes. She would say, ‘It’s a sucker with an edible stick.’ Every December she bought hundreds, decorated them with a green bow, and gave them to everyone she met through the whole month. I do the same because it reminds me of her.”
I brought a small box of them with me to Maine, but I haven’t given out a single one. When I ask myself why, the answer comes easily: Spencer would think it’s odd. Not something I want to ponder on, especially not after my last realization.
I ask Owen, “Is there something that you do that makes you feel like you’re celebrating with your dad?”
Owen doesn’t have to think about his answer. “He really lovedThe Muppet Christmas Carol. My parents saw the movie on their first date, and we watch it every December with a box of See’s chocolates. He made us sing along to all the songs. Mom, Brady, and I still do it every year.”
That is the kind of Christmas tradition I want to incorporate into my own family someday. I can’t see Spencer joining in. I don’t allow myself to dwell on how that will disappointment future me.
“The Muppet Christmas Carolis one of my favorite Christmas movies,” I tell him. “I make my students sing along to it the week leading up to Christmas break.”
“Do they like it as much as you do?” He grins like he knows the answer is no.
I laugh. “Not at all, but that doesn’t deter me.”
With our challenge obligations complete, Rheta takes us to a burger place just down the street. Not what I was expecting, considering she is a billionaire.
The place is packed, but they have a table reserved forus. A few waiting customers grumble, but the staff ignore them. Everyone who works here greets “Ms. Rheta” by name. Only Miles is unsurprised that they know who she is.
Once we’re seated, our waitress brings us water. “It’s a pleasure to have Ms. Rheta and her family with us today. Do you want any drinks?”
When she leaves with our drink order, Marianne asks, “Mother, how do they all know you?”
Rheta doesn’t look up from the menu. “Oh, I’ve come here a few times for dinner.”
Miles leans forward and whispers, “She set up a grant for local businesses. Biggs’ Burgers was a recipient a few months ago. They’re expanding into the next town over.”
Rheta tuts. “Miles, if you give away all my secrets, I’ll have to leave you at home for our next outing.”
