“Okay, I’m all ready to go snowshoeing,” she announced five minutes later.

But Ezra was frowning down at his phone. “I’m afraid you’re gonna have to give me a rain check. I just got a call from my broker. We’ve got a client who’s only in town for the afternoon and wants to see one of my listings. I’d try to put the guy off, but my broker insists this client is a hot prospect. It’s sort of a command performance.”

Ivy tried to shrug off her disappointment. “No worries. I totally understand. And like you say, there’ll be plenty more snow later in the week.”

“Right!” he said, brightening. “Next time it snows, lace on your boots and get ready for walking in a winter wonderland. I’m totally your guy for that.”

“It’s a date,” Ivy promised. “In fact, maybe Punkin and I will just go for a walk by ourselves.”

“Wait. I’ve got a better idea,” he said. “The Christmas Stroll is Wednesday night. You should come.”

“What’s a Christmas Stroll?”

“A cynic would say it’s an excuse for all the businesses in town to make one last push before Christmas. It’s a town tradition. All the downtown shops stay open late and a lot of them set up booths or food carts around the square. There’s caroling, and a bonfire, all that Norman Rockwell Americana stuff. Then the big moment of the night is when Santa Claus arrives on a fire engine.”

“Santa, huh? Anybody I might know?”

“Afraid so. The guy who’s been playing him for the past three years slipped on some ice and broke his leg last week. My broker volunteered me to be the stand-in.”

“That broker of yours sounds pretty pushy,” Ivy said.

“Very pushy,” he agreed. “But she gets things done. So what do you say? Want to meet me on the square? We could have an early dinner and walk around and see the sights before I have to duck out and change into my outfit for the big reveal.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Ivy said. “I’ve got so much to do around here. I’m on deadline for a project for a new client—”

“It’s Christmas,” Ezra said firmly. “Take the night off. This is a community-wide celebration. Don’t you want to become a part of Tarburton?”

“It’s not that,” she started to protest.

“Good. Then it’s settled. I’ll see you Wednesday night. Six o’clock. By the clock tower on the square.”

“Okay,” Ivy said.

She stood in the doorway and watched the black Jeep as it disappeared at the end of the driveway. Punkin nudged her leg. “Okay,” she relented, looking around for his leash. “You’re right. Let’s go mess up some of that pristine white snow.”

Chapter 13

Ivy couldn’t believe her eyes. A small crowd was gathered on the sidewalk in front of the display windows at Langley Sweets.

“Look, Wendell.” A middle-aged woman was pointing at the black-and-white photographs that were strung from festive red ribbons in the front window. “That’s me, when I was six, with Santa Claus. I was asking him for a pair of Rollerblades.” The woman’s teenage son didn’t look impressed. “Can we get some candy?” the kid asked. “Like, some fudge?”