It was a small town tucked away in the mountains that couldn’t have had more than a thousand or so residents. There were a bunch of older style houses right out of another century, a handful of shops, and maybe a restaurant or two in the downtown area. It was cute and scenic with all the snow, but what on earth were we doing here?

Beau parked the car in a dirt lot behind an ancient hotel and turned to face me.

“What are we doing here?” I asked.

Beau had this smile on his face as he got unbuckled, opening the car door.

“You like Christmas, right?”

Chapter 25

CHAPTER 25

Beau had taken us to an old-fashioned Christmas market.

Georgetown’s downtown was apparently where this Christmas market had taken place for the past few decades, and it was not difficult to see why the streets were packed with people of all sorts bundled up in jackets, hats, and scarves.

The main street was right out of a Hallmark Christmas card. There were lights, garlands, and wreaths, as well as a roaring bonfire up the street in the middle of a series of market stalls where people were selling homemade goods, woodwork, and cinnamon-roasted almonds.

The piles of snow up on the sidewalks and a man dressed up in old-fashioned clothing as Saint Nicholas gave the atmosphere even more Christmas spirit. I did a double take when I saw carolers in Victorian garb, songbooks in hand, a small crowd gathered around them.

Beau placed a hand on my arm as we stood there on the sidewalk beside the visitor center. YOU LIKE? he signed.

YES, I signed back honestly. DIFFERENT, BUT . . . BEAUTIFUL. I LIKE.

Beau visibly relaxed. GOOD, he signed. HAPPY.

“I like it,” I said aloud. “But why did you bring us here?”

I’d never been on a date before, but I was fairly certain this wasn’t the type of date other seniors in high school would go on. Not that I was complaining, but . . .

Beau scrunched up his face as he thought about how to respond, stuffing his hands in his pockets. I perked up, ready to lipread what he had to say.

“This . . . what me . . . my mom . . . used . . . long time ago,” he finally said, nodding toward the market up the street. “. . . special, right? . . . thought you might like . . . not school-related.”

The only thing I could think of to say was, “Oh.”

Oh.

This was only the second time Beau had mentioned his mom. I knew talking about her wasn’t an easy thing for him to do, and yet he was sharing something like this with me? Something he genuinely enjoyed and wasn’t worrying about how goofy or un-date-like it might be.

THANK YOU, I signed to him.

I THINK MAYBE HERE BEST, Beau signed, still looking anxious. N-I-N-A TELL ME MOVIE, BUT . . .

Knowing exactly where he was going with this, I held up a hand to stop him.