“Oh no,” Cody said, stopping abruptly. “Not her again.” He tried to back away, but Ivy pulled him forward.

“Excuse me!” she called, nearly shouting to make herself heard above the din of the festival.

Phoebe looked up, and when she saw Ivy the color drained from her face. She whispered something to one of the church ladies and hurried over, the bells on the toes of her booties jingling merrily with each step.

The front of her tunic was spattered with cocoa and her red cap sat crookedly atop her hair. “What happened? Where’s Cody?”

“Here,” Ivy said, releasing her grip on Phoebe’s suitor’s elbow. She took Cody’s hand and forcibly placed it between her friend’s two hands.

“Right here. Cody, meet Phoebe. You two need to talk. And I need to go do my job.”

Chapter 21

As Ivy made her way back to the candy shop booth she was forced to dodge through a winding line of people—parents, small children, toddlers, and babies in strollers, waiting patiently for their turn to meet Santa.

The festival organizers had created a small village within the square, marked off with signs proclaiming it SANTALAND. There were gingerbread man cutouts and costumed elves directing parents through the lit maze leading toward an elevated platform. When she stood on her tiptoes she was able to make out the great man himself, seated on an ornately decorated gold throne, and even from where she stood, a hundred yards away, she could definitely hear the screaming protests of the toddler seated on his lap.

When she reached her destination, Nancy Bergstrom greeted her with a grateful hug.

“The Santa dress is perfect,” Nancy said. “Wait. Was that Betty Rae’s costume?”

“We think so. I found it up in an attic. Now, what do you need me to do?”

Nancy handed her a candy-striped apron and an iPad. “You can ring up the credit purchases. I’ll help folks pick out their purchase and take care of the cash. Okay?”

She showed her new assistant her pricing and purchasing system and how to swipe credit cards through the square plugged into the iPad’s USB port. “Just sing out if you have any problems.”

Ivy spent the next hour ringing up and bagging what seemed like hundreds of boxes of Langley candies and fudge. As soon as she thought the rush of customers was slowing down, another wave would descend on the booth. But everyone seemed more than willing to wait their turn. People were patient, even jolly, complimenting her outfit and accepting samples of candy. More than one customer wanted to know if she was the “new Mrs. Claus,” and every time she looked up, someone was asking to take her photo.

It was nearly seven o’clock before there was a brief lull in business. “Whew,” Ivy said, turning to Nancy. “Is it always this intense?”

“We’re usually pretty busy during the Christmas Stroll, but it’s never been this crazy,” Nancy said, beaming. “Part of it’s probably the weather. Thank God we’ve got clear skies tonight. But I think mostly it’s that Mrs. Santa costume of yours is a great draw.” She reached out her hand for the iPad. “I want to run a quick total to see just how much we’ve sold.”