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“Safe travels, Mrs. Thompson,” Christopher said.

She walked back to the car, and Christopher watched as she and Steven climbed in. The engine revved, and then they were pulling out of the driveway, the Mercedes disappearing down the street.

Layla stood in the driveway, watching them go, her arms wrapped around herself. She looked so alone standing there, against the backdrop of snow and sky.

Christopher walked toward her slowly, giving her time to hear him coming. When he reached her side, she didn’t look at him, just kept staring down the empty street.

“Are you all right?” he asked softly.

Layla was quiet for so long he thought she might not answer. Then she turned and looked at him, a faint smile on her lips. “I think so,” she said finally. “I am. They don’t understand me. They never have. But I think… I think my mother is trying. In her own way.”

“I think so too.”

Layla looked up at him, and the smile on her lips spread a little wider. “Do you think, Mr. Holcomb, that I could extend my stay a little longer? If there’s space available, of course.”

He laughed delightedly, and reached out, brushing his fingers over her cheekbone. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he promised her. “Welcome to Fir Tree Grove. You’re going to love Christmas here.”

Layla leaned forward and hugged him, and Christopher felt a wave of happiness wash over him. He didn’t know what the future held, didn’t know if this was temporary or the beginning of something more permanent.

But she had chosen to stay for now, and that was all he could ask for.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

The Fir Tree Grove Community Center had been transformed into a winter wonderland. White lights were strung across the ceiling in swooping garlands, creating a canopy of stars overhead. Evergreen boughs decorated every surface, filling the air with the fresh scent of pine. Red and gold ornaments hung from the rafters, catching the light and sending sparkles dancing across the walls.

And all of the people gathered there made it even more magical, Layla thought, as she stood there taking it all in.

The entire town seemed to be there, packed into the large hall in a joyful, chaotic celebration of Christmas. Children ran between tables, their laughter ringing out above the hum of conversation. Adults clustered in groups, sharing stories and embracing, their faces flushed with warmth and happiness.

The aromas drifting through the air were intoxicating too. Maplewood Tavern had contributed their famous honey-glazed ham, herb-roasted potatoes, and homemade sourdough rolls with local butter, the savory scents making Layla’s mouth water even though she’d already eaten her fill. Jackson had brought pumpkin venison chili, mac and cheese that was creamy inside and crispy on top, and chicken pot pie from the Snowdrift Diner, as well as at least a dozen different pies that lined an entire table against the far wall. Layla had spotted apple, pumpkin, pecan, cherry, and what looked like a chocolate cream pie that had already been half-devoured. Imogen had donated hot cocoa powder and toppings, and there was a hot chocolate bar set up along one wall with Artisan Chocolates’ banner above it.

Toward the back of the room, on one side of the fireplace, stood an enormous Christmas tree, easily fifteen feet tall, its branches heavy with ornaments that told the story of the town. Layla had spent twenty minutes earlier just examining them—handmade decorations from the elementary school, delicate glass baubles that looked like family heirlooms that had been donated, photo ornaments showing generations of Fir Tree Grove residents. At the top, there was a golden star that caught the firelight.

And on the other side of the fireplace, holding court with a line of excited children, was Santa and Mrs. Claus.

Layla couldn’t help but smile every time she looked at them. Vanessa was smiling broadly in the red velvet Mrs. Claus dress, her dark hair pinned up underneath a red cap trimmed with fur. She listened to every child who came up to her, smiling when she heard their Christmas wishes. Jackson made a surprisingly convincing Santa too, and had the laugh down perfectly—a deep, jolly “ho ho ho” that made the children giggle with delight.

And, as if they weren’t perfect enough already, they’d dressed up little Philip as Baby Claus, so as not to leave him out of the festivities.

He was dressed in a tiny red suit with white fur trim and a miniature Santa hat and sitting in his stroller, looking absolutely bewildered by all the attention. Every few minutes, a child would come up to talk to him or show him a toy, and Philip would respond with his gummy smile or a delighted squeal.

Layla had watched earlier as Katie had approached, dressed in a green velvet dress that made her look like a Christmas elf. She’d presented Philip with a candy cane and told him very seriously that he was going to inherit being Santa Claus from his dad one day, so he should pay attention. Philip had tried to eat the candy cane, wrapper and all, sending Katie into peals of laughter.

She couldn’t get over how incredible it all was. She was so glad she’d given the town more of a chance. She’d been wrong to dismiss it so quickly, and think that it wasn’t worth her time, that the people here and the things they did weren’t what mattered. It all absolutely mattered, more so than anything she’d written about or focused on back in Portland.

These people all knew and loved each other, and it was so beautiful that Layla knew she would never be the same after finding this place.

She moved away from the crowd, drawn to one of the big windows that lined the far wall. She could see the drifts of snow outside piled up around the shoveled paths, the streetlights casting a golden glow over it all. In the distance, she could see the lights of Main Street, the shops closed for the holiday but their windows still glowing with Christmas displays.

It was beautiful. Back home she knew her parents were having a huge Christmas dinner at their house, all of it decorated by someone Mary had paid to hang lights and put up a tree. Their house would be gorgeous and the food would be delicious, but it lacked the heart that Fir Tree Grove had, the sense that even if everything wasn’t perfect, it all had meaning.

She reached into the pocket of her cardigan—purchased from Nicole at the Christmas market—and touched the gift she had there for Christopher. There had been a gift exchange earlier, but she hadn’t been able to bring herself to give it to him then. She wasn’t entirely sure why, just that it hadn’t felt like the right time. It felt big, and important, even if the gift itself was small, and she wanted to wait for the perfect moment.

“There you are. I was looking all over for you.”

Layla turned to find Christopher approaching, two mugs of hot chocolate in his hands. He’d dressed up for the occasion in dark jeans and a deep green sweater, and his hair was slightly mussed. There was a smudge of what looked like whipped cream on his jaw.

“You have a little…” Layla gestured to her own jaw, smiling.