Ivy chuckled at the thought of the two of them, Mrs. Santa and an overgrown elf, driving around town in a Volvo station wagon. “You look adorable. I just hope we don’t get pulled over for speeding.”

“Right? By the way, I’m so glad you decided to dress up tonight too. What made you change your mind?”

“Hmm? Like you said, I thought it would be a fun way to draw business to the candy shop booth.”

“Nope. I’m not buying that,” Phoebe said, shaking her head.

“Okay,” Ivy relented. “You’re right. It was Ezra. He called to apologize for last night, and then he showed up at my house with a new hot-water heater and your pal Ronnie Cahill, who installed it. How could I say no? I mean, it’s only dinner.”

“Can’t you just admit it? You like the guy. A lot. And he obviously likes you. It’s Christmas, Ivy. Nobody wants to be alone at Christmas.”

They’d arrived at the square, which was anchored on the southern edge by the white-steepled United Methodist church. City workers were already busily setting up orange traffic cones in preparation for closing down the streets for the stroll.

“You can pull around the back and let me out there,” Phoebe instructed, pointing at a narrow one-way lane that ran beside the church. Ivy followed her directions and parked in the church’s lot, where a group of women were already gathering around a large, gaily painted wooden cart.

“You’ve still got an hour to kill before meeting up with Cody,” Phoebe pointed out.

“Maybe I’ll pop in and visit Lawrence Jones,” Ivy said. “I think he’d get a kick out of seeing the Mrs. Santa dress again.”

Phoebe lifted the lid of the cardboard box, revealing dozens of packages of individually wrapped and beautifully frosted and decorated Christmas cookies. “Here. Take him some of these, and tell him I said Merry Christmas.”

The old man’s eyes shone as he took in Ivy’s splendid red velvet costume.

“Look at you,” he said as she did a slow turn. “Is that Betty Rae Rose’s costume you’re wearing?”

“Possibly. I found it tucked away in the attic, but my friend Phoebe thinks it’s maybe too small to have ever fit her.”

“Betty Rae was a fine figure of a woman in her day,” Mr. Jones said. “Just like you are now.”

“Phoebe sent you some cookies from the Methodist church ladies auxiliary,” Ivy said, offering him a packet of baked goods.

“How nice.” He spread the cookies out on the coffee table, then looked back up at her. “I take it you changed your mind about going to the Christmas Stroll tonight?”

“I guess I did,” Ivy said. “Somehow, I’ve managed to make three different commitments for tonight.”

“You mean besides helping out Nancy Bergstrom?”

“Yes.” She filled him in on Phoebe’s predicament and her reluctant agreement to meet up with Cody and stall him until she was ready to meet her fiancé in person.