Ivy smiled. That all sounded exactly like the Phoebe she’d come to know since moving to Tarburton.

“When she mentioned that she was a Star Wars freak, that did it. I knew she was the one. We’d have these long conversations while I was deployed. Like, for hours. I loved her voice, that soft southern accent, and the way she sort of hiccups a little when she laughs. And when she says my name? ‘Co-deeeee.’ The way it sort of pours out of her mouth, smooth and sweet, like honey. Nobody’s ever said my name that way.”

Cody jumped up from the bench and began pacing again. “I almost didn’t come today. I was so scared about what Phoebe would say when she met the real me, driving over here today I had to pull off the road and puke in some bushes in some random person’s yard.”

“But you came anyway,” Ivy observed. “That takes guts.”

“I had to. I mean, we’re getting married! At least, I hope we are. But probably, when she sees what I really look like, she’ll turn around and run the other way.”

He tugged at the hem of his jacket again and did a slow turn, his eyes searching the approaching darkness for a glimpse of his elusive fiancée. Then he was looking directly at Ivy, his face etched with a haunting sadness.

“I get it. She’s not coming at all, right? That’s why she sent you. To break up with me.”

“No! That’s not it at all.” Ivy felt her phone buzzing in her pocket. She took it out and silently read the text message:

What did he say? Does he hate me?

Ivy jumped to her feet and grabbed Cody’s hand. “Come with me.”

He pulled away for a second. “Where are we going?”

“We’re going to put an end to this comedy of errors. Once and for all.”

The square was thronged with people. It was full dark now, but every tree and bush and telephone pole bristled with twinkling white lights. They passed a small bandstand where a crowd had gathered to listen to a red-robed youth choir singing “Jingle Bells.”

“Excuse me,” Ivy said purposefully, parting the crowd as she pulled Cody along behind, ignoring the stares of townspeople obviously amused at seeing Mrs. Santa dragging a young man through the town square. As they neared the soldier’s memorial statue, she spotted the rows of colorful booths that had been set up by local businesses and civic groups. They passed Rotarians selling hot pretzels, and Boy Scouts peddling doughnuts.

They passed the candy shop booth, which was done up with a candy-striped awning, and she waved at a harried Nancy Bergstrom, who was working solo. She gave Ivy a pleading look. “Be right back!” Ivy called.

“Hurry!” Nancy responded.

Finally, Ivy spotted a large wooden cart manned by a pair of white-haired church ladies, assisted by a familiar-looking elf, who was doling out cups of cocoa as fast as she could.