Saturday morning. Ned opened his eyes and smiled when he smelled fresh pancakes being made downstairs. Immediately he bounded out of his bed, smoothing down his dark hair with a few rapid sweeps of his palm. First thing in the morning his hair was always sticking up. He took a second to check outside; the sun was up, melting the snow, and the street in front of his parents' house was clear.

He didn't know why he was so excited, other than the pancakes. He would still be in school for another week before Christmas break, but at least he only had five more days to get through before he had two weeks of vacation. Fifth grade wasn't so bad, but the next year he would be in middle school, and that was exciting. Assuming he made it through this year.

All his other friends had been to the Mapleton Christmas parade the week before, though, when he had been sick with the flu. He was better now, though, and his mother said they would take him to the parade in River Heights to make up for it.

It wouldn't be the same. His scout troop had been in a float in the Mapleton parade, and Ned had missed it. They didn't know anyone in River Heights, or at least Ned didn't; his parents' friends didn't count. At least he would probably get some candy, and maybe an ice cream if he could talk his mom into it.

Ned dressed warmly, in his new navy sweater and jeans, and bounded down the stairs. His father stood at the stove flipping the pancakes; it was one of the few things he made that wasn't on the outdoor grill. Ned's mother smiled at him as he pulled out his chair.

"Feeling up to the parade, sweetheart?"

Ned nodded, his eyes widening as his father placed a stack of warm, buttery pancakes in front of him. "Mmm. Especially if we can get some ice cream after?"

His mother chuckled. "We'll see if you still feel like it after you eat all those pancakes."

"That sounded like a dare, didn't it?" Ned's father gave him a grin and a wink, and Ned nodded.

The living room was decorated for the holiday with gold-trimmed red cloth his mother called "runners," bunches of holly, their stockings and the tree. Christmas was Ned's mother's favorite holiday, and Ned loved it too. They went to Ned's grandparents' houses for meals on Christmas day and the day after, and his mother made dishes that she never made for any other meal. Ned didn't really like fruitcake that much, but the rest of it, the pies and casseroles and big glazed Christmas ham were so good.

Before they left Ned laced up his dark-brown boots and found his big warm dark-gray winter coat, cap, and gloves. When they stepped outside, all the layers were worth it; the wind wasn't constant, but when it blew, it made them all shiver.

"Whoo! At least it's a pretty day for it," Ned's father declared as he keyed into the car.

They were fifteen minutes early for the parade, and after parking a few blocks away from the route, Ned's father led the way toward a vantage point near the corner drugstore. Ned could hear bleating trumpets and sporadic drumbeats in the distance; his father said the marching band must be tuning up. Ned had seen his father's golden trumpet a few times, one he told his son he had played in the middle and high school bands with pride. Ned's mother had encouraged him to play piano, but Ned didn't really have the patience for it. Given a choice, he would always choose to be outside, throwing a football or hitting a baseball.

"Remember when I used to put you up on my shoulders so you could see over the crowd?" Ned's father commented, then glanced at Ned's mother. Ned wrinkled his nose. "Think you're getting too big for that?"

"Definitely," Ned grumbled.

His mother laughed. "You'll be taller than I am before you go to high school," she commented, ruffling Ned's hair. Even though he didn't see any girls around, Ned ducked away from her hand and smoothed his hair back down, but he gave her a little smile too. He definitely needed to have a growth spurt or two, if he was going to be as tall as his father, but he was almost as tall as his mother now. He could remember, not too long ago, when she had been so much taller than he was.

By the time the parade began a few minutes later, Ned's father had already struck up a conversation with a few adults nearby. Since he sold houses, he knew a lot of people in the area, and River Heights was only a few minutes away. Ned craned his neck eagerly, hoping that the people on the first float were throwing candy or at least doing something interesting. The sidewalks had become pretty crowded with people on both sides of the street, three blocks down on either side.

The first float was pretty cool, Ned thought. Girls in puffy coats and scarves, bundled up against the cold, sat along the edges while a few women dressed as ballerinas turned to the kind of music Ned had heard in jewelry boxes. Then came the fire department queen, wearing a little crown and a wide grin, her sash over her winter coat. The next float was decorated like a living room with a decorated tree and a fireplace with stockings, and then the marching band showed up, all in formation. The drummers were laughing at something, but their feet stayed the same as all the other band members'. On the next float the Girl Scouts were throwing candy, and even though they were girls and the Mapleton pack had a rivalry with their own local scout troop when it came to selling popcorn, Ned still scooped up a handful.

A little boy in a stroller was right next to Ned, strapped in and unable to grab his own candy. Ned glanced over at him; he had a peppermint he could give the kid. Ned's mother touched his shoulder, and he glanced up at her.

She shook her head. "It's sweet, but don't give it to him. He might choke on it."

Ned nodded, slipping his candy into his pocket.

The big event of the whole parade was Santa at the end of it, in his sleigh. Ned watched the other floats, the string of old-fashioned cars that made his parents laugh, the River Heights homecoming queen sitting in the back of a convertible, tiny Shriner cars that zoomed around like clown cars. Then the fire trucks were coming through, slowly. Ned thought Santa would be next, and he stepped to the very edge of the sidewalk, straining to see.

The last float had been tossing butterscotch candies, peppermints, and cinnamon disks. A big handful had fallen onto the ground, and Ned was just gazing at it when he saw a flash of blue. The toddler who had been in the stroller had gotten out of it, and was lurching toward the candy. Which was directly in the path of the fire truck.

Ned only had a split second to even think about it. The little boy's mom was clearly distracted, and he didn't waste the time trying to alert her. Instead he launched himself off the curb and ran straight for the little boy. A little girl from the other side of the street had had the same idea; he saw wispy golden curls and big dark eyes.

"No! Come back!"

Ned caught the little boy under his arms and lifted him, carrying him back toward the curb again, trying to decide what he could do to keep the little girl safe, when someone else wrapped their arms around her and began to pull her back toward the other side of the street. He saw the sleeves of a white puffy coat, and over them, shining reddish-gold hair, wide blue eyes. He only had a moment, barely the space of another heartbeat, before he had the toddler safely on the curb. If he had hesitated for another minute, he had no idea what would have happened.

Ned's mother grabbed him as soon as he returned to the sidewalk, and she was saying something; the mother of the toddler was saying something too, their voices pitched high, nervous and probably chastising. Ned barely heard them. His gaze was impatient on the fire truck, which was blocking his view of the other side of the street. He was pretty sure the little girl he had seen was safe, but the girl who had snatched her out of harm's way—

He needed to see her again.

In the space between that fire truck and the next, he caught a flash of her, taking in the tableau at a glance. The grateful mother was clutching her toddler close, and the girl in the white coat glanced over at Ned in that moment, and their eyes met.

Ned felt his heart stop.

Then the next truck cut off his view of her, and Ned's mother bent down to look into Ned's eyes, telling him that he had been very brave but he had taken an awful chance, and Ned could feel each beat of his heart as it started again. He tried to reply to his mother—he said something, he didn't know what—and then Santa's sleigh brought up the end of the parade and all the children around Ned rushed into the street to grab the candy as the man in the red suit and white beard tossed it over their heads.

By the time Ned could see the other side of the street again, the spectators were already beginning to depart in a great wave. He stood on his tiptoes, straining for a look, for a glimpse of reddish-gold hair against a white coat, but he didn't find it.

Love at first sight. He had never truly understood what it meant, not until that moment. But he didn't even know her name.

"Mommy! Mommy, look!"

Sara had her mittens on, her puffy winter coat, her knit cap. Her big dark eyes were wide as she glanced up at Nancy, pointing at a man on stilts who had come to entertain the crowd before the River Heights Christmas parade began.

Nancy bent down, tucking a long strand of red-gold hair behind her ear as she smiled at her daughter. "I know."

"His legs!"

"He's wearing fake wooden legs," she explained, tightening the strings on Sara's hood so her head would stay covered. "Underneath his long pants."

Sara's rosebud lips formed an o of surprise.

Ned squatted down, too. "Now, Sara, some of the people in the parade are going to throw candy, but you need to be careful, okay?"

Sara blinked at him. "Candy?"

"Mmm-hmm. But it's like Halloween. We'll look at it and make sure it's okay for you to eat," Nancy told their daughter. "And if they throw some candy and it stays in the street, don't go out there unless we say it's okay, all right? I remember when I was eight years old and I came to this parade, a little girl about your size ran out in the road and almost was hit by a fire truck. I don't want you to get hurt, honey."

Sara shook her head. "No," she said, clasping her parents' hands in her own mittened ones.

Ned was staring at his wife, though. "No— Really. That was you?"

"Hmm?" Nancy raised her gaze to Ned's.

"The little girl, who went after the candy in front of the fire truck. You were wearing a white coat..."

Nancy nodded, her own lips parting as she realized it too. "And you were wearing a dark coat," she said slowly.

Ned stood up quickly, still holding Sara's hand. "Oh man. I saw you that day... you were the prettiest girl I'd ever seen..."

Nancy stood more slowly, shaking her head in disbelief. "I can't believe it," she murmured. "That was you. I looked at you and it was like I was struck by lightning..."

Ned couldn't help grinning. "I looked for you once the parade was over, but I never found you," he said. "Well, obviously I didn't."

Sara tugged on Nancy's hand, and Nancy leaned down to sweep her up into her arms, smiling herself. "Well," she murmured. "I never realized."

"I should have," Ned murmured, reaching over to wrap his arm around his wife's shoulders, and Sara giggled as she looked between them. "Of course it would've been you."

"And of course it would've been you," Nancy told Ned with a smile. "You're the only guy who's ever made my heart skip a beat just by looking at me. And of course you would dash into the street to rescue some poor toddler from a fire truck."

"Just like you," Ned said, and kissed her cheek.

"Guess we really were meant to be together, huh, Nickerson."

Sara giggled and Ned brushed the tip of his nose against her cold one as she moved into his arms. "And to have you, Sara-bear," he told their daughter, and he smiled when she gave him a smacking kiss.

"Ready to see Santa, baby girl?"

Sara clapped, turning to see if he was approaching, and Nancy leaned over to kiss Ned's cheek too. "Now you're even," she murmured, and gave him a little grin.

"Very much so," he told her, shifting Sara in his arms. "Now we're even, Drew. And I have no intention of ever misplacing you again."