would be damned if she’d cook a big meal for herself.
Chapter Two
The next morning at the paper, Mary learned the names of the couples married at the festival in the last 40 years, and made a list of the rest. She scanned old newspaper articles, looked into the archives for addresses and phone numbers and even looked up the names of the reporters that covered the various stories. There was a ton of information on the festival. Information that she had no idea would span so much and so far back. She knew that the festival would celebrate its centennial this year, but she didn’t realize its popularity until she Googled it. It was by far one of the most Googled Christmas celebrations that she’d seen on the Internet, and for a town as small as Noel that said something.
After four calls to the mayor’s office and another three to the local news station, Mary felt tuckered out. She had a restless sleep the night before, too, dreaming of being the bride of the event and looking into her groom’s eyes—he looked like Gomer Pyle and sounded like Barry White. When she woke up a sheen of sweat covered her brow. She couldn’t believe she sweated over this thing.
Mary looked at the clock on the wall and sighed—another four hours until she could call it a day. She decided that she could no longer sit at her desk, and called up the first couple on her list, the Tomlins. Ugh.
Aly and James Tomlin married in 1997. The theme of that year was Santa’s Little Helpers . Aly explained that the entire downtown area became filled with elves and toys—of the fake variety. They decorated every surface of store windows, sidewalks, and even the flags that hang from the poles in the center courtyard.
Aly lived in Noel much of her life, but just came back that year to help her parents run their store, “Jameson Hardware”. She explained that she didn’t plan to turn in her entry as a bride, but she did it more on a dare. She never thought of herself as daring or exciting, but when she put her ticket in the glass container, she felt like something profound would happen to her—and it did. Aly smiled while she told the story, and her husband James grabbed her hand.
“We both just knew it was meant to be,” James said. “As soon as they called our names, I knew it would be okay.”
Mary thought the guy was a kook. “Really? You weren’t thinking—hell, this woman could turn out to be a real nutjob, or anything like that?”
James looked at Mary like she’d grown another head. “Nutjob? My Aly? Definitely not. If you would have seen what Aly looked like that day, you would have had a lot of adjectives to describe her, and trust me, ‘nutjob’ wouldn’t have been one of them.”
Aly squeezed James’ hand and looked at Mary with a scowl. “I thank God for that festival every day. James and I…well, we fell in love all over again.”
Mary put down her pencil. Again? Finally! “Can you say that again?” Mary asked. James frowned.
“We fell in love all over again,” Aly said slowly, looking at James as though for confirmation. James’s face reddened.
“So, you knew each other already?” Mary asked, her pen now in-between her lips. She chewed on pens when she felt nervous or close to unearthing something. This was the latter.
“Well, yeah, of course. We grew up together. We dated briefly in high school, but then I moved away. When I came back, I didn’t know if James still lived here. Not until they called my name that night did I know James was here. It was fate.”
There’s that word again.
“Was it really? I mean, it wasn’t like you didn’t already know each other, or how you knew…you would fit.”
Aly’s face reddened at the implication. “Certainly not!”
“I don’t know what you’re getting at, Ms…” James began.
“Mary,” she informed him.
“Mary, but we did not have relations in high school. In fact, she’d moved away, and I worked on my father’s farm until the
Chapter Two
The next morning at the paper, Mary learned the names of the couples married at the festival in the last 40 years, and made a list of the rest. She scanned old newspaper articles, looked into the archives for addresses and phone numbers and even looked up the names of the reporters that covered the various stories. There was a ton of information on the festival. Information that she had no idea would span so much and so far back. She knew that the festival would celebrate its centennial this year, but she didn’t realize its popularity until she Googled it. It was by far one of the most Googled Christmas celebrations that she’d seen on the Internet, and for a town as small as Noel that said something.
After four calls to the mayor’s office and another three to the local news station, Mary felt tuckered out. She had a restless sleep the night before, too, dreaming of being the bride of the event and looking into her groom’s eyes—he looked like Gomer Pyle and sounded like Barry White. When she woke up a sheen of sweat covered her brow. She couldn’t believe she sweated over this thing.
Mary looked at the clock on the wall and sighed—another four hours until she could call it a day. She decided that she could no longer sit at her desk, and called up the first couple on her list, the Tomlins. Ugh.
Aly and James Tomlin married in 1997. The theme of that year was Santa’s Little Helpers . Aly explained that the entire downtown area became filled with elves and toys—of the fake variety. They decorated every surface of store windows, sidewalks, and even the flags that hang from the poles in the center courtyard.
Aly lived in Noel much of her life, but just came back that year to help her parents run their store, “Jameson Hardware”. She explained that she didn’t plan to turn in her entry as a bride, but she did it more on a dare. She never thought of herself as daring or exciting, but when she put her ticket in the glass container, she felt like something profound would happen to her—and it did. Aly smiled while she told the story, and her husband James grabbed her hand.
“We both just knew it was meant to be,” James said. “As soon as they called our names, I knew it would be okay.”
Mary thought the guy was a kook. “Really? You weren’t thinking—hell, this woman could turn out to be a real nutjob, or anything like that?”
James looked at Mary like she’d grown another head. “Nutjob? My Aly? Definitely not. If you would have seen what Aly looked like that day, you would have had a lot of adjectives to describe her, and trust me, ‘nutjob’ wouldn’t have been one of them.”
Aly squeezed James’ hand and looked at Mary with a scowl. “I thank God for that festival every day. James and I…well, we fell in love all over again.”
Mary put down her pencil. Again? Finally! “Can you say that again?” Mary asked. James frowned.
“We fell in love all over again,” Aly said slowly, looking at James as though for confirmation. James’s face reddened.
“So, you knew each other already?” Mary asked, her pen now in-between her lips. She chewed on pens when she felt nervous or close to unearthing something. This was the latter.
“Well, yeah, of course. We grew up together. We dated briefly in high school, but then I moved away. When I came back, I didn’t know if James still lived here. Not until they called my name that night did I know James was here. It was fate.”
There’s that word again.
“Was it really? I mean, it wasn’t like you didn’t already know each other, or how you knew…you would fit.”
Aly’s face reddened at the implication. “Certainly not!”
“I don’t know what you’re getting at, Ms…” James began.
“Mary,” she informed him.
“Mary, but we did not have relations in high school. In fact, she’d moved away, and I worked on my father’s farm until the
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