Skylar loved this time of year. She loved the excuse to be a little extra. The festive winter accessories—because a girl could never own too many scarves—brought her a deep, inexplicable joy that validated Christmas was in fact her favorite season.
She adored every little detail—the caroling, the baking, the compulsive, almost predatory, shopping and sale hunting, the scent of pine needles, the kisses under the mistletoe, the life-sized nativity, the cozy fires, the bulky socks, the layers upon layers of clothing, the hot cocoa, and oh, how she loved the magical mornings of a freshly fallen snow. But most of all, she loved watching the children.
Christmas carols played as candles glinted in windows. Goodwill and charity abounded all around. The holiday season was such a magical time of year. It enriched her spirit and painted the world with a picturesque lens.
As she glanced at the hay-stuffed manger in front of the church, she smiled. Pair that with Santa’s rosy cheeks and a spiced glass of eggnog, and she was in heaven.
She couldn’t wait to see all her younger cousins sit on Santa’s lap this year and—
“What the hell?” Her brow creased as a tiny little body stood on a park bench, stretching to reach a red balloon tangled in a bare tree. Where were her parents? And where was her coat?
Skylar slowed her car and scanned the area for a possible chaperone to the small girl but didn’t see any adults nearby. Hitting her turn signal, she carefully pulled over and rolled down her window.
“Careful,” she called and the little girl flinched, a guilty look taking over her curious expression. Skylar hadn’t meant to startle her. “Is your mommy or daddy around?”
The child wrung her hands nervously. “I’m not a’posed to talk to strangers.”
She grinned. Smart kid. “My name’s Skylar. Is that your balloon?”
She nodded and shivered.
“Would you like me to help you get it down?”
As if it just occurred to the child that she was alone, she looked around and her eyes welled with tears.
“Oh, don’t cry.” Skylar shut off the car and climbed out. “I’ll help you.” Stepping onto the bench, she caught the string of the balloon and pulled it down. “How about we tie this to your wrist so you don’t lose it again.”
“Okay.” The girl’s little fingers were freezing.
“I’m a little warm.” Unraveling her scarf, she held it out to the child. “Can you hold this for me?”
The girl nodded and Skylar wrapped the wool around her narrow shoulders, tying it like a shawl. Her full cheeks wore a rosy blush and a smudge of whatever she’d had for lunch stuck in the corner of her full lips. As she chattered her teeth, the scent of peanut butter and jelly tickled Skylar’s nose.
“Now, where did you leave your mommy?”
The girl scrunched up her face in the most adorable fashion. Her dark brown eyes moved like pools of chocolate, and her red nose sniffled against the cold. Her hair looked like it hadn’t been brushed in days, but her mismatched clothing was nice, pressed, and top of the line.
“My mom doesn’t live here.”
“Oh. How about your dad?”
“He’s at the bank talking to people. He always talks.”
Skylar stood from where she’d been crouching and stared down the block. Sure enough, there was a huddle of people outside of the bank. “What do you say we walk back that way and try to find him?”
“Okay.”
She held out a hand and five tiny, chilled fingers curled around hers. She’d traveled quite a way from the bank, and no one seemed to have noticed she’d gone missing.
“Do you see your dad?”
The girl nodded. “He’s wearing a red tie.”
“Mayor Buchanan is your father?”
“That’s not his name.”
“It’s not?”
“No, it’s Daddy.”
Such precociousness earned a smirk. “Well, let’s go say hello to Daddy.”
Three men and two women surrounded the mayor on the sidewalk, each one speaking of interests in the town. He appeared concerned but bored. Only when he spotted Skylar approaching with his daughter and her red balloon, did his expression come alive.
“Addison?” He glanced around as if just noticing she’d wandered off. “Where were you?”
“My b’loon got away, but Skylar helped me find it.”
The group of constituents acknowledged the child, but continued voicing their concerns. The mayor stepped aside and crouched low, doing a quick inspection of his daughter’s person.
Under the cowlick of a perfectly manicured head of thick hair, his brow furrowed and his fingers traced the fringe of Skylar’s scarf she’d wrapped around the girl. “Where’s your jacket?”
The citizens paused but seemed eager to get an answer. However, the mayor’s distraction seemed to halt any promises of future change.
Mr. Simms, a rotund man in a worn, quilted flannel frowned, obviously wanting to continue communicating his personal needs to the mayor. “So, should I contact your office?”
Mayor Buchanan removed a silk square from his pocket and wiped the child’s nose. “Yes, call the office and my assistant will help you, Mr. Simms.” Brushing a hand over his daughter’s hair, he said, “What have I told you about wandering off?”