This, thought Darcy, was what a best friend was for. She told you the truth, even when you didn’t want to hear it.

“You know what?” said Darcy. “It’s Christmas. I love Christmas. I’m going to enjoy every minute of it, and then I’m going back to the city and to the real world and...”

“And what?”

“And everything will be as it should be,” she concluded.

“It’s coming,” piped Bernie. “The Christmas parade is coming.”

A small parade moved down the road. It was headed by a group of carolers—the Heart of the Mountains Church choir, followed by a few community groups and of course, Santa Claus, bringing up the rear.

The short processional was over soon enough. They all walked together to the Heart of the Mountains Church, where they were parked.

It was a cute little traditional church with a brilliantly lit steeple, its slender silhouette looking perfect against the purple sky. In the snowy yard was an elaborate manger scene illuminated by floodlights, and a sign that read O Come All Ye Faithful.

“It’s beautiful,” India said to Logan, taking more pictures. “The whole day was beautiful—skiing and lunch and Santa. You are one hundred percent forgiven for talking us out of going to Florida.”

Darcy was drawn to the PAWS contingent—the town’s animal rescue league. Volunteers walked with rescue dogs wearing little jackets with the phrase Rescue Me on the side. Some of the volunteers were passing out brochures about pet adoptions.

“Oh my gosh, I wish I could take one home,” Darcy said, watching a beagle bounding through the snow.

“That can be arranged.” Logan came to stand next to her. “I have it on good authority that Santa loves giving away puppies at Christmas.”

“My building doesn’t allow dogs.”

“Maybe you’re living in the wrong building, then.”

Why did everything he said have a double meaning? It seemed that way to Darcy. “I love my building,” she said. “I was on a waiting list forever to live there. It has everything I need.”

As the parade disassembled, Santa climbed down from his throne in the back of a fire department utility truck.

Logan gave him a wave. “That’s my buddy Adam, behind the beard.”

“Aha. So he’s telling you what the kids asked for.”

“Yep.”

“Sneaky.”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

Yes. Tell me everything. “Sure,” she said.

“Charlie and André wouldn’t tell Santa their Christmas wishes. They wrote letters instead.”

“Uh-oh. So, what’s your best guess?”

“Bad news—I think he wants a dog. He had a dog named Blake, but she was old and passed away.”

She gave a low whistle. “That’s a tough one.”

He nodded. “Not the best timing for me. And of course, when Charlie’s with his mom, the dog is all my responsibility.”

“So what are you going to do?” she asked.