SILVER BELLS & SERENDIPITY

  by Marie Landry

  Copyright Marie Landry 2022

  Originally published in the Wanted: Mistletoe Anthology

  All rights reserved

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any actual people, places, or events, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Character illustrations by Qamber Emporium

  Cover designed by Marie Landry

  Content warnings: coarse language and open-door/on-page sexual intimacy

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Also by Marie Landry

  Dedication

  Part I - December 2020

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Part II - December 2021

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Part III - December 2022

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Letter to the reader

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  ALSO BY MARIE LANDRY

  *Blue Sky Days

  *The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

  *Waiting for the Storm (Angel Island #1)

  *After the Storm (Angel Island #2)

  *Take Them by Storm (Angel Island #3)

  *Only You

  *Maybe You

  *Hung Up on You

  *A Very Perry Christmas

  *A Very Perry Wedding

  *Escaping Christmas

  *Matchmaking & Mixtapes

  *Reunions & Ruses

  *Do-Overs & Mixed Signals

  *Bucket Lists & Midnight Kisses

  DEDICATION

  To anyone who has ever gone through a friendship breakup: this one’s for you. Your pain and grief are valid. Just remember, you are loved and you are worthy of love, always.

  And to Mum and Jaimie. I love you both more than you’ll ever know.

  PART I ~ DECEMBER 2020

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Paging Silver Bells. Silver Bells the Elf, your presence is requested at the Gate House.

  “Isn’t that you?”

  A pair of big brown eyes stare up at me. I’ve just taken a selfie—or, rather, an ‘elfie’—with this little girl and her family. Her eyes are still wide and awestruck at meeting one of Santa’s elves. I imagine that’s how I’d look if I met Pedro Pascal and got to take a picture with him.

  “That is me,” I say, jingling the string of silver bells around my neck. “Elf duty calls, but it was so nice meeting you.”

  “Does Santa need you now?” she asks, unwrapping the candy cane I gave her and sticking it where her two front teeth once were.

  I attempt to match her earnestness as I nod. “Probably. An elf’s work is never done.”

  With another jingle of my bells, I give the family a wave before making my way through Bellevue Village. After a month and a half of working as an elf, I’ve mastered the art of ducking and weaving between groups, always with a smile on my face, always ready to pause to hand out candy canes or pose for pictures. The Village is busier than usual for a Monday evening, but then again, Christmas is next week.

  A few elves are positioned outside the Gate House, greeting people as they enter. The Gate House is more for show than anything since the Village doesn’t charge an entrance fee, but it makes a convenient meeting place for people coming and going. Among the hustle and bustle, I spot a dark-haired man standing a few feet away from the Gate House, head bent, brows drawn in concentration, fingers flying over his phone screen.

  Meredith, the Village’s General Manager, is waiting for me inside. If the glitter dusting her cheeks is any indication, she’s pulled elf duty herself at some point today. “Sorry to pull you off your regular rotation,” she says. “I need someone for a special assignment and thought you’d be perfect.”

  Her words kindle a warm glow inside me. “That’s nice to hear.”

  “I hope you still feel that way when I tell you what the assignment is.” Her expression douses the rising warmth in my chest. “See that guy outside the Gate House?” She points to the man I noticed when I arrived; he’s still typing away on his phone. “He’s here from The Buzz. Do you know it?”

  “I know of it.” It’s a fairly new website started by a pair of semi-famous influencers in Toronto. It began with just the two of them, and they branched out recently into hiring freelancers to do ‘What’s Hot’ pieces in the Toronto area and beyond. My best friend, Mindy, is obsessed with the site, but I haven’t had a chance to check it out.

  “Well, apparently The Buzz got wind of Bellevue Village and wanted to do a piece on us immediately. They only gave us a few hours’ notice and said they could have their writer do a piece on his own or, if we could spare someone, have an employee give him a personal tour. Shoshana agreed to do it, but she left early because she wasn’t feeling well. I’d do it, but there’s some crisis or other up at Santa’s House I need to deal with. Then I thought of you: our Elf of the Month.”

  I can’t help but laugh. The honor of Elf of the Month was bestowed on me at the end of November and came with a substantial cash bonus, which I plan to spend entirely on myself for my thirty-third birthday next week. “So I just have to show him around the Village?”

  “Pretty much. Explain how everything works, show him some of the businesses, introduce him to a few of your fellow elves. Hopefully they’ll talk up the Village and give some helpful sound bites.”

  “Sounds easy enough. Count me in.”

  Meredith grips my upper arms. “You’re a lifesaver, Sylvie. When you finish with him, you can take the rest of the night off, okay? Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

  When we step outside the Gate House, the guy has moved closer and appears to be waiting for us. His eyes sweep over me, taking me in from the pointy-tipped felt shoes covering my sneakers to my red and green dress to the string of silver bells around my neck.

  “Sylvie, this is Cole from The Buzz,” Meredith says. “Cole, this is Sylvie, also known around here as Silver Bells the Elf.”

  His lips twitch as he offers me a hand to shake. “Nice to meet you. Sorry to spring this on you at the last minute.”

  There’s an audible zap when our fingers touch, causing us to jerk apart before we can shake properly. “That’s what felt shoes on a carpet will do, I guess,” I say with a laugh.

  Cole looks somewhat stunned, as if the static electricity zapped more than just his hand. After a few beats, he asks, “Is my hair standing on end?”

  I use the question as an excuse to let my gaze wander over his face and hair. Now that he’s not frowning at his phone, I see he’s actually quite handsome, with beautiful blue-gray eyes and a head of thick, dark hair. He shifts, and the light catches on a few strands of silver mixed in with the dark tresses.

  “Nope, you’re good,” I tell him. Meredith catches my eye and I don’t miss the amused curve of her lips or the little eyebrow wiggle she does. I suppress a smile and return my gaze to Cole. “Shall we?”

  I could swear he releases a quiet sigh. “Absolutely. Lead the way.” To Meredith, he gives a polite nod and says, “Thanks again for setting this up.”

  I set off past the Gate House, stopping just a few feet inside the Village and motioning for Cole to join me. “I assume you’re taking pictures for your article? This is a good place to start.” I make a sweeping motion around me to encompass the spectacular entrance of Bellevue Village. Colored lights are strung everywhere, the businesses are all decked out, and there are Christmas trees, life-size nutcrackers, and giant candy canes everywhere you look.

  “Is this place for real?” Cole murmurs.

  My grin widens at his quiet, awestruck tone. I turn to look at him, expecting wonder-filled eyes and a bright smile, but instead I’m met with…distaste?

  “Wow, this place is a lot.” He blinks rapidly as his head swivels from side to side. “This must be what sensory overload feels like.” After another minute of casting his gaze around, he gives his head a little shake and lifts his phone to snap a few pictures.

  Shaking off his words, I say, “Can I ask why you’re doing a feature on this place so close to Christmas? Bellevue Village closes for the holidays in a week and a half.”

  “Believe me, it wasn’t my choice,” Cole says without looking at me. “I went in to pitch something completely different to my bosses, and they hit me with this assignment. Said if I could come to Bellevue and get this piece ready to go for tomorrow afternoon, they’d consider my idea.”

  I make a little hum of acknowledgment, unsure what to say. I’ve seen my share of people who clearly didn’t want to be here: partners who were obviously dragged in against their will. Groups of teens and young adults with high energy, mixed with one or two people whose faces are masks of boredom or disdain. Parents with indulgent, grimace-like smiles as their kids run around excitedly. The Grinches have been few and far between, though, likely becaus
e most people know what they’re getting when they come to Bellevue Village in November and December: Christmas Central. Elves and garland, wandering Victorian carolers and twinkle lights. Christmas joy. Festive fun.

  But unlike the regular occasional person who looks like they’d rather be anywhere else on the planet, Cole is writing a piece about this place. If his expression and the tense lines of his shoulders are any indication, I have a feeling the theme of his article will be something along the lines of ‘Come to Bellevue Village if you want a massive headache, a case of overwhelm, and a lighter wallet’. I can’t let that happen.

  “Ready to move on?” I ask, my voice overly bright. He side-eyes me, but nods. “Okay, where should we begin? Are you hungry? Thirsty? The Village has several eateries, and there’s also a chocolatier and a candy shop if you have a sweet tooth. Oh, and the café has amazing hot chocolate, the best you’ll ever taste. Or we could check out some of the shops. As you may know, Bellevue Village is only Christmas-themed two months of the year, so while some of the shops cater to holiday lovers, many are regular stores. If you have any last-minute holiday shopping to do, I’d be happy to make suggestions or help you pick things out.”

  I’m rambling. I’ve always been a babbler when I’m nervous. Cole is looking around again with that same curled-lip expression he had a minute ago, and he keeps shaking his head and blinking rapidly.

  “Whatever you think.” His tone is resigned, and he follows the words with another quiet sigh. “I don’t have any Christmas shopping to do, but I suppose it’d be good to highlight some of the stores, especially the holiday-themed ones.”

  He mutters something that sounds like ‘even though that sounds like my idea of hell’, but I ignore that part.

  “How do you feel about nutcrackers?” I ask.

  One side of his mouth twists in a bemused half-smile. “I don’t have any strong feelings about them one way or the other.”

  Despite his whole pre-Christmas-ghosts-Ebeneezer-Scrooge vibe, his dry tone makes me want to laugh. “Okay, well, I think we should start at the Nutcracker Emporium. They have every kind of nutcracker imaginable, ranging from teeny tiny ones to ones as tall as you are. The shop has been a huge draw for tourists this year.”

  He studies me with slightly narrowed eyes as I speak. His unwavering gaze makes me wonder if I have something other than glitter on my face. Finally, he says, “You really love this place, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, I do.” Part of me wonders if I should elaborate, talk up the Village in the hope it’ll make him see it differently or sway him to write something favorable, but I’m not sure it would help. He seems determined to be a Scrooge.

  “Nutcracker Emporium it is, then,” he says. “Lead on, Silver Bells.”

  And so I do. I set a meandering pace as we weave through groups of people and food stalls. Cole keeps his phone in his hand and snaps the occasional quick shot, but I’m doing most of the talking as I point out various things and introduce him to some of the elves we pass.

  When we reach the center of the Village, I detour toward the giant Christmas tree. With so many evergreens scattered around the Village, I’ve often wondered if this place owns its own tree farm somewhere or if their yearly purchases empty out an entire farmer’s stock. While they’re all beautiful, the twenty-foot high tree in the heart of the Village is truly something to behold. Not only is it decked out with thousands of colored lights, but its lower branches are also full of ornaments visitors are allowed to take home. Many people donate an ornament in exchange for taking one, while others leave encouraging notes stuck in the branches. No matter where I’m stationed in the Village, I make sure to visit the tree at least once during every shift, and I’ve left a few of my own little notes in the branches.

  When the tree comes into view, I sneak glances at Cole’s face for his reaction. If the way his eyes widen is any indication, I’ve finally found something even he is impressed by. We stop on the outskirts of the square so he can take a few photos of the tree. I watch as he crouches low to the ground and angles his phone to get as much of the tree as possible.

  When he straightens, he closes the camera app on his phone and pulls up his notes. I peer over his shoulder as he taps away, and just manage to catch the words ‘Loud. Colorful. SO MANY PEOPLE’ before he hits save and closes it.

  I should keep my mouth shut and move us along, but his attitude irks me. It’s obvious he thinks this assignment is beneath him, but Bellevue Village—especially for the two months of the year when it’s a Christmas lover’s fantasy—is an attraction that brings in thousands of people every year from all over the world. The self-contained village full of shops, eateries, rides, and games brings joy to countless people. And I won’t let him shit on that.

  “So are you going for a jaded, cynical angle with your piece?” I ask casually. “Like ‘This place is for suckers, come here if you want to waste both your time and money’?”

  As soon as the words are out, I notice a young couple strolling by, watching me with wide eyes. I swallow a groan and plaster on a smile, not bothering to excuse myself to Cole before intercepting the pair.

  “I’m so sorry you heard that,” I say, fishing in the giant pocket of my skirt where I keep candy canes, game tokens, and other miscellaneous things I’m permitted to hand out at my discretion. I finally find what I’m looking for—a ten-dollar gift card that’s good for any shop or eatery in the Village—and hold it out to them. “It was out of context and not at all how I personally feel about Bellevue Village. Please enjoy a treat on me this afternoon or during your next visit.”

  To my immense relief, they both smile. “No worries. We saw you around earlier and it’s obvious you love your job,” the woman says. “Actually, we wanted to get a picture with you before, but you were busy. Do you mind if we take one now?”

  After they snap a few shots of the three of us with the giant tree in the background, I wish them a good day, and they wander off. With my back to Cole, I suck in a slow, deep breath, steeling myself for what’s ahead. If he didn’t plan to write a scathing piece about Bellevue Village before, he likely does now.

  I spin on my heel, the bells on my shoes jingling merrily. Cole’s face is unreadable as I approach him. My brain is whirring with thoughts of what to say when he steps forward and holds out his hand.

  “Hi. I’m Cole.”

  I automatically shake his hand, despite my confusion. “I…know?”

  He laughs under his breath and squeezes my hand before releasing it and tucking both of his hands into his coat pockets. He looks sheepish as he says, “I was hoping we could start over. I’d like to show you I’m not a total asshole.”

  I’m not sure how to respond to that, so what comes out is a less-than-eloquent, “Oh.”

  “Why don’t we head to the Nutcracker Emporium like we planned, and then maybe I could buy you a cup of that amazing hot chocolate you mentioned?” His expression is hopeful and, if I’m not mistaken, his cheeks are tinged with a hint of pink that has nothing to do with the nip in the air.

  I must look skeptical because his shoulders slump. “I really am sorry, Sylvie. I’ve recently gone through something that’s…well, not to put too fine a point on it, it’s left me with a major hate-on for Christmas.”

  I can’t control my surprised reaction, and he laughs softly at my wide eyes. He has a nice laugh—deep and rumbly. I shove the thought aside.

  “Anyway, this is the absolute last assignment I would have chosen for myself, but I didn’t have much choice,” he says. “It’s not fair to take my personal feelings out on this place, though. Or, more importantly, on you. Can we start over?”

  I’ve never been one to hold grudges and I’m not about to start now with a stranger. Especially one who’s clearly hurting over something. “Well…it would be a relief not to have to report to Santa and make sure you’re on the naughty list.”

  One side of his mouth curves in a way that makes me think he wouldn’t mind being on the naughty list. Something I haven’t felt in far too long—attraction? Curiosity? A hint of lust?—flutters in my chest and then lower.