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Vanessa felt a surge of affection for the once-grumpy man who had been entirely softened by falling in love with her grandmother. George Lowery might be busy with the Christmas tree farm, but he always made time for Philip. The image of her grandfather driving the sleigh through the snowy streets of Fir Tree Grove with her baby boy bundled up beside him made her smile.

“I’ll have to call him tomorrow and thank him,” she said, moving back to the entryway to retrieve her shopping bags. “And make time to stop by and look at the hundred photos I’m sure he took.”

She carried the bags to the coffee table and began pulling out her purchases, unable to contain her excitement. “Okay, so look at what I found. First, these ornaments from the Christmas market—they’re hand-blown glass, made by that artist who just moved here from Vermont. Aren’t they gorgeous?” She held up a delicate ornament in the shape of a snowflake, the glass catching the light from the tree and scattering tiny rainbows across the walls.

“It is,” Jackson agreed, taking it carefully from her hand, as he sank down onto the couch and settled in to watch her go through the shopping.

“And then I found these lights at the Holly & Ivy Market—they’re the old-fashioned kind, like the ones Mabel has on her tree, with the big bulbs? I thought they’d be perfect for the mantle.

She was talking faster now, pulling item after item from the bags—a new tree skirt with embroidered snowflakes, a set of Christmas placemats for the dining room table, a wreath for Philip’s bedroom door, local-made candles that smelled like pine and cinnamon. She could hear the excitement in her own voice, could feel the joy bubbling up inside her as she imagined where each piece would go. She always loved decorating, and their first year in the house she’d gone completely over-the-top, but this year it felt important for a different reason that everything be perfect.

She paused mid-sentence, suddenly aware that Jackson was studying her so intently that it made her stomach flip. He looked unusually serious, and she thought she saw something in his gaze that seemed more like worry than excitement. She bit her lip, suddenly worried too.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, setting down the wreath she’d been holding. Her earlier excitement dimmed slightly, replaced by a flutter of anxiety. “Did something happen while I was out? Is Philip okay?”

“Philip’s fine,” Jackson said quickly. “Everything’s fine. It’s just…” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped together. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately about something. About you, actually. About how you feel about being here in Fir Tree Grove.”

Vanessa felt her brow furrow. “What do you mean?”

Jackson ran a hand through his hair, his mouth twisting as he clearly thought through what to say. “You gave up a lot to move here. Your career in the city, your apartment, your whole life. Your job ran you ragged, but you always said it made you feel important and kept you busy enough to not think about the things you’d rather not, like your parents’ accident. And you left all of that to come help your grandmother run a toy store in a town with a population of less than five thousand people.” He met her eyes, and he looked unusually vulnerable. “Do you ever regret giving it all up?”

The question startled her so much that it took her a moment to answer. She moved around the coffee table and sat down next to him on the couch, close enough that their knees touched. Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into an embrace.

“Jackson Hayes,” she said firmly, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. “I don’t regret it for a single minute. Not one second. I promise.”

Jackson nodded, but there was something in his expression that made her wonder if he fully believed her. It bothered her that her husband might think she was unhappy, that he might think she was secretly longing for her old life in the city.

“Well, the pot roast is ready for dinner,” Jackson said after a moment, the two of them still sitting close together with Vanessa’s arms around him. “And I poured you a glass of that wine you love. Plus I picked up gingerbread cookies from the bakery for dessert. The ones with the frosting.”

“You’re amazing,” Vanessa said, and she meant every word. She kissed him softly, trying to pour all her reassurance into the gesture. She wanted him to know beyond a doubt that she was exactly where she wanted to be.

Jackson smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He stood and headed toward the kitchen to get dinner ready, leaving Vanessa alone with her shopping bags and her suddenly less-joyful thoughts.

She sat there for a moment, listening to Jackson moving around in the kitchen, hearing the clink of dishes and the sound of the oven opening. Slowly, she returned her attention to the shopping bags, continuing to unpack them and arrange them on the coffee table, but the joy had gone out of the activity. Now she was just going through the motions, her mind elsewhere.

Did Jackson really think she was unhappy? Had she done something, said something, that made him doubt her commitment to their life here? She tried to think back over the past few weeks, searching for some moment that might have sparked this concern, but she came up empty. If anything, she’d been more excited about Christmas this year than ever before, had thrown herself into decorating and planning and making sure Philip’s first holiday season was perfect.

Unless…

Vanessa paused, a wooden reindeer figurine in her hands, as a thought struck her. Could this be about Layla Thompson? She’d mentioned the reporter to Jackson when she’d gotten home from The Toy Chest earlier today, that the woman from Portland was writing about Fir Tree Grove’s Christmas traditions. She’d even joked about how the woman’s attitude had reminded her a little of herself, before she’d fallen completely in love with both the town and Jackson.

Had that comment worried Jackson? Had it made him think that Vanessa was longing for her old life?

She set down the reindeer and leaned back against the couch cushions, letting her head fall back as she stared at the ceiling. The truth was, she did see herself in Layla Thompson. Or rather, she saw who she used to be. Two years ago, she’d been just like that reporter—ambitious, focused, convinced that success meant focusing on work, always being available when her boss needed her, and always, always moving forward to the next thing. That nothing was more important than being on top of her work and being the most valuable person in the office.

When her grandmother had first asked her to come visit, Vanessa had said yes out of guilt as much as anything else. She’d only expected to stay for a very brief visit, even once Mabel had revealed that she’d needed help on account of her hurt wrist. She assumed she’d help her grandmother until the busiest part of the season was over, then head back to San Francisco and the job she’d done since she’d graduated college.

She’d thought small-town life would suffocate her, but she’d been prepared to endure it, to grit her teeth and get through it for the sake of her grandmother.

But then something unexpected had happened. She’d started to actually enjoy it. The pace of life that she’d feared would bore her turned out to be exactly what she needed. The sense of community that she’d thought would feel claustrophobic turned out to be comforting, grounding. The work at The Toy Chest—which she’d assumed would be mindless and unchallenging—turned out to be deeply satisfying in ways her corporate job had never been.

And of course, there had been Jackson, who had offered her endless coffee at the diner, gotten special eggnog creamer just for her, and who had gradually helped her come to terms with all of the things she had been running from. He’d been patient with her initial resistance to Fir Tree Grove, had understood her ambivalence about small-town life, and had never pushed her to stay. But he’d shown her, through his supportiveness and genuine kindness, that there were different ways to build a meaningful life. Her priorities had shifted, her definition of success had changed, her entire understanding of what made life worth living had been transformed.

She wasn’t the same person who’d arrived in Fir Tree Grove two years ago. That woman—driven, ambitious, always looking toward the next accomplishment—felt like a stranger now. Not a bad person, not someone Vanessa was ashamed of, but someone she’d outgrown, like a coat that no longer fit.

And she was so far from that now. So deeply, completely, happily far from it.

She loved her life in Fir Tree Grove. She loved waking up in the morning and walking to work at The Toy Chest, loved greeting customers by name, loved the way the whole town had shown up when Philip was born, bringing meals and gifts and filling their house with so much love and support that she’d cried for three days straight. She loved the Christmas season here in a way she’d never loved it in the city, where the holidays had felt commercialized and rushed, just another deadline to meet. Where she’d never minded working holidays so that others could enjoy them, because there’d been nothing about them that she’d loved until she’d come here.