WHEN HOLLYWOOD COMES TO TOWN

CONTAINS TAKE TWO AND CHRISTMAS AT RAINBOW FALLS

T.B. MARKINSON

MIRANDA MACLEOD

I HEART SAPPHFIC PRESS

Copyright © 2025 T. B. Markinson & Miranda MacLeod

Cover Design by Victoria Cooper

Edited by Kelly Hathaway

This book is copyrighted and licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any forms or by any means without the prior permission of the copyright owner. The moral rights of the authors have been asserted.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

CONTENTS

Preface

Take Two

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Christmas at Rainbow Falls

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Bonus Chapter for Take Two

A Huge thank you!

Preview of Book Lovers

ABOUT THE AUTHORS

PREFACE

In June 2022, we spearheaded the I Heart SapphFic Pride Collection. This was a collaborative effort by several of the top sapphic indie authors with the mission to create stories based around a Pride theme. Each book had a different color cover, and we encouraged readers to “Put a rainbow on your shelf!”

Our contribution to this collection was called Take Two. In the book, one of the main characters is an actor who has been dubbed the Queen of Christmas because of all the “Hallmark-style” movies she’s filmed. She returns to her hometown for filming, where she reunites with a long-lost love.

The movie they’re filming in Take Two is called Christmas at Rainbow Falls.

As much as we love Christmas movies, good ones with sapphic storylines that don’t revolve around “being gay” are still too rare. When we finished writing Take Two, we got the idea to write the Christmas movie we wished we could watch, the one we imagined them to be filming in during the course of Take Two. With that goal (and in the heat of the summer while listening to Christmas music), we created a Hallmark-worthy story with humor, snark, and lightheartedness, where the love interests both just happen to be women.

We’re darn proud of both Take Two and Christmas at Rainbow Falls because we believe sapphic visibility and representation are vital. That’s also why we created I Heart SapphFic, a website dedicated exclusively to sapphic fiction.

We hope you’ll enjoy these two books, as well as the bonus chapter at the end where you can see how the main characters from Take Two react after viewing the world premiere of their movie Christmas at Rainbow Falls.

Happy reading!

TB and Miranda

TAKE TWO

CHAPTER ONE

Gina glanced up from the paper she was grading and nearly jumped out of her skin as she spied the head of the film studies department—in other words, the big boss—lurking in the office doorway.

“Professor Harlowe!” Gina worked to smooth the alarm from her face and voice. “Is there something I can do for you? Although, I have the Pride Festival committee meeting in five minutes, so…” She let her words trail off as way of saying, hit the bricks, buddy.

Instead of taking the hint and moving along, Evan Harlowe craned his neck to take a gander at the pile of papers on Gina’s desk like she had all the time in the world to chitchat with him. While he was head of the department, he never seemed in a particular rush. It always made Gina wonder how he’d become so successful. Maybe it was a generational thing, with him having the good fortune of climbing the ladder before the concept of a side hustle came into being. Or that being a man meant he had less to prove by impersonating a perpetual motion machine.

“How’s the grading coming?” he asked.

Gina’s eyes slid to the stack of midterm exams in front of her. She forced a smile as she replied, “Great. Almost done.”

In truth, the ratio of graded to ungraded papers was exactly the opposite of what she needed it to be. This meant her only hope for not pulling all-nighters for the next week was for today’s meeting of the Comstock College Pride Festival planning committee, for which she’d somehow been suckered into serving as faculty liaison, would wrap up in record time.

Yeah, right.

The small group of undergrads she’d been tasked with herding since September could turn something as simple as choosing balloons into a debate worthy of the United Nations. With only two months to go until the big event, the likelihood of a drama-free afternoon seemed slim to nonexistent.

“And the Queer Power documentary?” The professor’s lips became pinched. “You know we’re expected to showcase the fifteen-minute trailer at the VIP reception at the Pride Festival. Will we be ready⁠—”

“I’ve got it under control.” As with the exam situation, this, too, was a stretch of the truth, but one Gina fully intended to rectify, even if she had to swear off sleep for a month and set up an IV with a caffeine drip directly into her veins.

Of course, it would be going a lot faster if the entire post-production of the two-hour film they were both supposed to be working on hadn’t been dumped solely onto Gina’s already overburdened shoulders. But she couldn’t exactly say that part out loud. This would be her sixth year as an assistant professor under Evan Harlowe’s guiding hand, and if she wanted her application for tenure to be approved at her next review, she needed to keep her mouth shut and meet her deadlines, however unreasonable they might seem.

Dr. Harlowe had just opened his mouth to continue speaking when a sudden ruckus outside the room caught him short. “What on earth?”

“That would be the committee—” Gina started to explain, but the professor was already making a hasty retreat. Gina couldn’t really blame him. She might’ve done the same if that option were available to her.

The echoes of approaching mayhem sent Gina’s hopes for an early evening plummeting. She couldn’t tell what the students were talking about, but if she could hear them from this far down the hall, it didn’t bode well. She affixed what she hoped was a neutral expression on her face, though anything less than murderous would be a win.

Destiny, a freshman with expressive brown eyes and rows of short, neat braids, was first to arrive. “Professor Mitchells, we’re screwed.”

“What?” Before Gina could fully process the unorthodox greeting, the young woman had thrust her phone a few inches from Gina’s nose. Gina pulled back, blinking to avoid going cross-eyed. “What is this all about?”

“Lucas Brown.” Destiny’s voice wobbled, and for a moment, it seemed like she was about to burst into tears.

“The grand marshal of this year’s Pride Parade?” Gina clarified as an uneasy tickle started in her belly, spreading like ants marching toward her extremities.

“Ex-grand marshal,” said Kayla, a sophomore, who had entered Gina’s office with two seniors in tow. Her freckled cheeks burned an alarming shade of crimson, and the matching fire in her eyes suggested the cause was anger rather than exertion.

Gina might’ve written it off as the typical drama of the committee’s two youngest members, but the expressions on the older students’ faces were equally grim. “Someone’s going to need to explain from the beginning.”

Destiny pressed play on the video she’d already cued on her phone, holding it farther away this time so Gina could see the screen. It appeared to be a clip from Lucas Brown’s comedy show, which Gina was vaguely aware had been held on campus over the weekend.

As soon as the audio started, Gina’s jaw dropped. “Did he just say the phrase feminazi on the campus of one of the oldest women’s colleges in the country?”

“Keep watching,” Kayla muttered.

Given the poor quality of the video, it was difficult to hear every word, but the dude’s twisted smile and defiant pose filled in enough of the blanks for Gina to know Destiny’s initial assessment was correct. They were screwed.

“Is there any chance all of that was staged as a practical joke?” Gina asked when the clip ended, fighting the urge to run to the bathroom so she could throw up. “Or is it too much to hope he was in the middle of a medical emergency?”

Like a stroke, for instance. That could account for the monumentally idiotic stream of hate-filled nonsense she’d just listened to, right? But the guy was only in his thirties, and it sure didn’t look like he was having a stroke. No, he was simply going on a misogynistic, homophobic rant, and gobbling up every hiss and boo the audience produced in response.

“I’m confused,” said Megan, a lanky senior with a buzzed head and nose ring, summing up what had to be the general feeling of the room with their clipped British accent. “I thought he was gay. Isn’t that why we asked him to be grand marshal in the first place?”

That and he’s cheap, Gina couldn’t help but think. Sure, everyone loved the college’s annual Pride Festival, but it didn’t mean anyone was willing to fork over more money for it than they had to.

“He’s totally gay,” replied another student. “Gayer than gay.”

Gina snorted before she had a chance to stop herself. As a femme-presenting, queer woman of color, she was especially sensitive to the need to avoid judging people by appearances. On the other hand, Lucas Brown was famously the most stereotypical caricature of a gay man she could possibly imagine. His flamboyant public persona made vintage Elton John look subdued by comparison. She never would’ve pegged him for the new poster child of the alt-right.

Which was what made judging by appearances so dangerous.

“Apparently, he’s not gay anymore,” Destiny said loudly with a vigorous shake of her head, hands firmly on her hips. “He’s calling himself an ex-gay now.”

“Did he agree to be our grand marshal because he’s got a political agenda?” Kayla demanded. “Maybe he thinks he can show the women folk who’s really in charge.”

“Uh, excuse me,” Megan interjected. “Not everyone here identifies as a woman. Do I need to remind you of my pronouns?”

“No, sorry,” Kayla was quick to say, a look of chagrin on her face.

“I don’t know what Lucas Brown wants, and I don’t care.” Destiny crossed her arms. She enunciated each word like she was heading into battle. “There’s no way I’m going to introduce that man as the grand marshal of our Pride Parade. No way at all.”

As the room erupted into twenty opinions at once—quite a feat considering there were nowhere near that many present—Gina groaned. This was the last thing she needed on her agenda for the day.

“Hey!” Gina called out, making exactly zero dent in the cacophony surrounding her. She tried again, twice as loud. “Hey! We need to focus, people. It’s only seven weeks until the festival. If we’re going to invite a new grand marshal, we need to decide that today.”

“There’s no choice.” Kayla flicked her hands in the air for emphasis. “Already, one band has threatened to pull out. Vendors are emailing me, seeking clarification as to whether Lucas is still involved, and threatening to walk if the answer is yes.”

“We’re ruined,” Destiny exclaimed. “Sunk. Dead in the water.”

“We don’t know that for sure.” Gina silently added the word yet, because the way the internet worked these days, the clip was already being viewed by penguins in the Antarctic. Repercussions would be swift.

“Who can we get to step in at such a late stage?” Megan’s gaze met everyone in the room in turn. “If you asked me to do it, especially knowing who I was replacing, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere near the stink. Would you?” Again, their gaze challenged everyone, finally resting on Gina.

With a sinking feeling, Gina realized they were all waiting on her to solve the problem with the wave of a magic wand.

“You teach film studies.” Destiny offered up her best puppy dog eyes. “Surely you know someone famous.”

“I make documentaries,” Gina corrected. “About the experiences of underrepresented racial, ethnic, queer, and gendered identities. I don’t have Jodie Foster’s phone number. If I did, I would’ve tried that before we saddled ourselves with a guy like Lucas Brown.”

“It’s so unfair,” Destiny moaned. “The Hasty Pudding Club at Harvard never has to scrape the bottom of the barrel for support. They snap their fingers, and celebrities come running. We have to settle for D-list comedians.”

“We’re not going to settle,” Gina stated with as much confidence as she could muster. Someone needed to show leadership, and sadly, she was the one nominally in charge of this three-ring circus.

With that in mind, she rose to her feet, setting her nearly forgotten red grading pen on her desktop with a loud thud. “I am going down the hall to refill my water bottle. While I’m doing that, I want Megan to pull up the list we made in September of possible grand marshals. Let’s see if any of them are viable options. The rest of you, start brainstorming new ideas. Be creative.”

In the relative silence of the deserted hallway, Gina wondered how necessary it was that she use the closest water fountain for her task. The one downstairs in the faculty break room would take her away from the chaos for twice as long. The one across campus in the science department sounded even better. With a sigh, she opted for the closest one, but gave herself permission to stop in the restroom on her way back. It was late in the afternoon, and there was a good chance her mascara was starting to flake.

Can’t have that.

As it turned out, her makeup, what little she wore, didn’t need touching up. Even her lipstick was too fresh to waste time on. Fresh out of excuses, Gina trudged back to the meeting. When she entered the room, a disagreement was already in progress and growing more heated by the second.

“That is like so bi-phobic,” Kayla declared hotly, presumably at Megan, who had their hands balled into fists and looked ready to spit.

“Only because you’re twisting what I said,” Megan shouted back.

“I am not⁠—”

“All right. Enough!” Gina sucked in a breath, unable to shake the feeling she’d been channeling her mother just then. Not the person she ever wanted to be. “I want a calm, rational explanation of what the problem is.”

“I found the perfect candidate for grand marshal, and Megan is being their stubborn self about it, as always.”

“Kayla,” Gina warned.

“Sorry, but I just found out an actor with ties to Massachusetts, who identifies as bisexual⁠—”

“But has never been photographed in the company of anyone but her hunky co-stars,” Megan interjected.

“Nope.” Gina held up a hand as she shook her head, perhaps a little more fiercely than she would have had it not been for the lingering guilt over snorting about Lucas Brown being gayer than gay. “You know better than that, Megan. We’ve talked about it in here a million times, but it bears repeating. Your sexuality is not defined by who you’re dating.”

“For normal people, yeah,” Megan countered. “But I’m so sick of fake celebrities jumping on the rainbow train for some extra attention on social media.”

“There’s no reason to think—” Kayla began.

This time Gina cut off Kayla. “Look, unless anyone here knows this woman personally, I don’t think this is a matter we can settle right now, okay? But I’m intrigued. What makes you think we could get her to agree to be grand marshal?”

Kayla flashed a triumphant smile in Megan’s direction before turning back to Gina, who could’ve sworn she’d wandered into a roomful of preschoolers instead of college students. “According to social media, she’s going to be filming a movie⁠—”

“One of those cishet, made-for-cable, Christmas movies,” Megan seemed compelled to add. “With all the red and green sweaters.”

Gina’s heart stalled for the length of a beat. A Christmas movie starring a local actor? No, it couldn’t be. The Queen of Christmas filmed all her movies in Canada. It had to be a coincidence. Many actors made a living making holiday movies, not just… her.

“I love those movies,” Destiny said, looking like she might be ready to start yet another fight.

“She’s filming a movie…” Gina prompted, shutting her eyes and wondering how many more minutes she could go before her brain thudded its way right out of her skull.

“On location,” Kayla continued, “about twenty minutes from here. And according to the article, the shoot lasts until the end of May, so she’ll definitely be around for the festival. Oh, and this is good news. According to one of her fan groups, the type who border on stalking, she’s already in town.”

The room went silent, and Gina held her breath, waiting for someone else to jump in, but no one did. As she dared to open her eyes a crack, she discovered that all the committee members were watching her, clearly waiting for her to weigh in. Gina ran through what Kayla had suggested, finding it surprisingly promising. For the first time since the meeting had started, her shoulders loosened a smidge.

“Okay. That doesn’t sound like a half-bad option.” When Megan made a growling sort of cough as she rolled her eyes to the ceiling, Gina rounded on her, not willing to start this all over again. “Do you have a better idea?”

“No, but it’s just so embarrassing,” Megan grumbled.

“Worse than an ex-gay Rush Limbaugh wannabe?” Gina challenged, folding her arms in victory when Megan stayed silent. “I didn’t think so. Like it or not, we’re not Harvard, and we can’t snap our fingers and make Oscar-winning actors do our bidding. The woman’s got a local connection, she’s part of the LGBTQ+ community—and you know what? I like those Christmas movies, too. Even if they are mostly about straight white people in ugly sweaters baking cookies no one seems to eat, which is a crime in my book.”

This was one hundred percent true, even if she hadn’t been able to bring herself to watch one in years. Gina would never have admitted to anything so counter to her intellectual image if it was a lie. Even so, airing her dirty secret in front of her students made her wish she could climb under her desk and disappear.

“So, we should go for it?” Kayla’s eyes widened, a smile spreading across her face. “Everyone who agrees we should reach out and invite Sophia Rossi to be the grand marshal of this year’s Pride Parade, raise your hand.”

“What?” Gina went ice cold so quickly at the confirmation they were indeed pitching Sophia Rossi—the Queen of Christmas herself—it was like she’d been dipped in a vat of liquid nitrogen. “No.”

“Huh?” Kayla’s face scrunched, and even Megan looked confused.

“No, we can’t…” Gina stopped to clear her throat, suddenly aware of a weird cackling laugh that was apparently coming from her own mouth. “I’m sorry, but we can’t invite Sophia Rossi to be part of our festival.”

“See?” Megan gave Kayla a smug look. “I told you. That woman is a total fake. No way she’s bisexual.”

Oh, God. Gina was on the verge of hyperventilating. There’s that horrible laugh again.

Everyone was staring at her with the type of alarm in their eyes that suggested they were weighing whether or not to call an ambulance. With supreme effort, Gina pulled together whatever scraps of her sanity she could.

“I assure you, her sexuality is not the problem.” Gina’s volume was barely above a whisper.

Megan let out an exasperated breath. “You’re only saying that because⁠—”

“Because I know.” This time, Gina’s voice was nearly back to normal, though that was about the only part of her that was. The rest was shaking like a tub of Jell-O after an earthquake. “I did say earlier we could settle the matter if anyone here knew her.”

“You know Sophia Rossi?” Destiny blurted. “The Keynote Channel’s biggest holiday romance star?”

“Yeah.” Gina closed her eyes again, this time wishing the action would make her disappear. “Which is how I know she’ll never agree to be the grand marshal.”

“Why not?” asked Kayla.

“Because…” Gina dug her nails into her palms, hoping the pain would help her maintain consciousness. “Because Sophia Rossi was my college girlfriend. I broke up with her on graduation day, and she vowed to hate me until she died.”

CHAPTER TWO

Sophia emerged from her rental car, blinking into the early morning sun. She clutched a cup of hot coffee to her chest like it contained a life-saving elixir. Which, considering it was still three-quarters full of dark roast with extra milk, it basically did.

What she could see of downtown Sholan Falls looked exactly like it had since she was a kid, right down to the definitely not licensed images of Disney cartoon characters that had been painted in the window of the local travel agency by an amateur artist decades ago. The single screen movie theater was still there, too, where she and Gina had kissed for the first time that holiday break their sophomore year when Gina had come home with her because she was on the outs with her parents over the whole lesbian thing.

A strange feeling came over Sophia, like she’d fallen through a crack in time. Any minute now, Gina would come running across the common, grabbing her hand to lead her to the candy shop with its glass case of homemade truffles, or the independent bookstore with the friendly black cat in the window, just as she had that weekend so long ago. Sophia swigged a mouthful of coffee to ground herself in reality again. Gina was long gone, and probably a million miles away, pursuing a life that had no room in it for Sophia.

Gina had made that perfectly clear.

Ten years away would have made many places in the world completely unrecognizable, but not this little corner of rural Massachusetts. Sholan Falls was Sophia’s hometown. As far as she could see, not much had changed since the day she’d left.

She’d find out for sure next weekend, which was when her mother thought Sophia would be arriving in town—because that was what Sophia had led her mom to believe. This movie—her first under a new contract with International Broadcasting Conglomerate that was easily worth ten times what the Keynote Channel had been paying her, along with a producer credit—was too big a deal. No way could she afford the distraction of her huge Italian-American family descending on her while she was still trying to establish her footing and get through a week of table reads and costume fittings.

For now, Sophia was keeping a low profile. That was a fancy way of saying she was hiding from anyone who might recognize her from way back when. Luckily, film sets were kept secure, and the majority of her work would be indoors this week, so the chance of being discovered was minimal. Staying hidden until her call time would’ve been the safest bet, but that was taking the subterfuge too far.

Plus, she simply couldn’t contain her curiosity at seeing a film crew in her hometown, something she daydreamed about as a child.

Sophia wasn’t expected for several hours, but she was like a child on Christmas morning, and she couldn’t resist seeing what was going on first hand. Though the crew was still hard at work, half of Main Street had already been transformed into a magical Christmas village nicer than anything the town had ever enjoyed in real life.

“Move it or lose it!” a man barked, carrying a plank past Sophia at breakneck speed in a manner that was anything but holly jolly. 

“Oh, sorry,” she mumbled, changing direction to scramble to one of the only small patches of green in the town common that was free of cables, cords, or building supplies.

Immediately, a man with thick brown hair and round cheeks, clutching a clipboard with a very official air, made a beeline for her. “Excuse me, ma’am. You aren’t supposed to be—wait, Ms. Rossi?” The man scrunched his face, sending his black-framed glasses high onto the bridge of his nose. “What are you doing on set already? Your call time isn’t until this afternoon.”

“I know, but I—” Sophia stopped mid-sentence, the man’s face suddenly clicking in her memory. “Hold on. Matt Pasini? Is that you?”

“Uh, yeah… gosh.” A ferocious blush bloomed on his cheeks as he donned a deer in headlights expression. “I was sure you wouldn’t remember me.”

“Goodness, what are the odds? You were a freshman in the St. Cecelia High School drama club my senior year, right?” Sophia couldn’t control her silly grin, overcome by the coincidence of running into someone she knew. She should have anticipated it, considering at one point in her life she’d probably known half the town, but none of them were movie folks. Plus, the executive producer, who had also recently defected from the Keynote Channel, preferred to bring all his own people wherever he filmed. It had never occurred to her any of the locals would be involved.

“We did The Sound of Music together,” Matt reminisced. “You were the most amazing Maria,” he added with something akin to awe in his tone.

“As I recall, the way you sang Kurt’s line in So Long, Farewell—wearing your lederhosen with those chubby cheeks you had back then—brought the house down every night.” Sophia chuckled, noting silently that the man’s cheeks were still round, but he’d mostly grown into them as an adult.

“Wow, you really do remember.”

“Of course, I do. I was jealous over how adorable you were,” Sophia confessed. “No way could I compete. It’s funny. My memory’s terrible now for anything but the lines I need to know for the day, but the tiniest details from my acting past are lodged in my brain forever.”

Including the stuff I’d rather forget, a little voice in her head whispered, but Sophia pushed it aside and vowed never to cyber-stalk her ex. She wouldn’t allow herself to dwell on bad times when things were really looking up.

“Well, I sure haven’t forgotten you,” Matt admitted shyly. “You were always really nice to all of us younger students, even though it was clear way back then you’d go on to be a star and eclipse the rest of us.”

“Oh, yes,” Sophia scoffed. “I’m the Queen of Christmas. That’s one step away from being Marilyn Monroe. Or, like, the actual queen.”

“Hey, don’t mock it. Everyone in town has been talking about this movie, not to mention you and Butch, like you’re gods.”

Ah, yes. Butch.

That was another element that had followed her from the Keynote Channel. They’d starred in at least half a dozen movies together, and considering this film was IBC’s first foray into the lucrative Christmas movie market, the network had been thrilled to sign them both. It was fine. They got along well enough, even went to premieres and studio events together sometimes. If Sophia had been hoping for a bit bigger of a change with her move to a new company, she still wasn’t going to complain. Why mess with a winning formula?

“What’s your role with the production?” Sophia asked, happy enough to move the attention off of herself and get out of her own head. “Not an actor, or at least that’s what I’m gathering from the clipboard in your hand and that very impressive headset you’ve got on.”

“I’m a production assistant.” Matt’s voice burst with pride. “I studied stage management at Boston University and worked at some smaller theaters in the area, but this is my first time working on a film.”

“This production is twice the size I’m used to, and double the filming days, too, so I’ll be learning the ropes right beside you.” Sophia jumped as a loud round of cursing erupted from the gazebo under construction on the other side of the town common. “Hey, that’s new. I always thought this space would look nicer with a gazebo.”

“Half the town agrees with you.” Matt’s arched eyebrow suggested there was much more to this story, and Sophia was there for it.

“Oh, do tell.” She rubbed her hands together, knowing there was no better flavor of gossip than the small-town variety.

“Have you not heard about Gazebogate?” Matt pressed a hand to his chest in mock surprise. “Surely, your mother would’ve told you about this scandal by now.”

Sophia cringed at the mention of her mother. “I will deny this to my dying breath if you mention it to anyone, but it’s possible I’ve been ghosting my mother a bit these past several weeks since I found out I got the part.”

“Sophia Rossi!” Matt’s mouth dropped open as he feigned shock at her confession. “Does she not know you’re going to be here?”

“I’m not that good a liar,” Sophia said quickly. “But I kinda told her I didn’t get into town until Saturday instead of Wednesday. I couldn’t help it. I need to focus, and she stresses me out with all her questions, and her—what am I saying? I remember your mom from the cafeteria in elementary school. The two of them could be twins.”

“True, which is why I’m the last person to judge,” Matt assured her with utmost sincerity. “Although I was going to give you all sorts of respect if you could pull off hiding your presence in Sholan Falls for two months.”

“Heck no. Mom’s got some sort of kid radar. She’d sniff me out like a bloodhound. Normally, I wouldn’t lie to her at all.” Sophia clenched her hands, the very thought of what she’d done putting her nerves on edge. “But in addition to this being my first film with IBC, my little sister’s getting married this summer, and my older sister’s pregnant. Mom’s need to know when I plan to get married and produce offspring will be in hyperdrive.”

Matt offered a thoughtful nod. “Maybe she’ll just be happy to see you and proud of your significant professional accomplishments.”

There was silence as a second or two ticked past; after which, they both burst into side-splitting guffaws.

“Yeah, right,” Sophia gasped. “That’s a good one.”

“Can you imagine?” Matt howled, laughing so hard tears spilled from his eyes. “I take it there’s no fiancé waiting back at the inn to surprise her with. Unless the rumors about you and Butch are true?”

“Not remotely, you cheeky monkey,” Sophia teased. “I don’t have time for a goldfish, let alone a relationship.”

The denial about being involved with Butch was dead-on, but the second part was only partially true.

Her schedule was crazy, sure. Filming outside of Vancouver much of the year between trips back home to LA would put a crimp in anyone’s social calendar. But Sophia’s heart was the real culprit behind her single status.

From the moment they’d met, Gina Mitchells had been the only person for Sophia. They’d planned a whole life together after graduation, moving to LA so Gina could write screenplays and Sophia could act. But when the time had come, Gina had all but given her a swift kick in the ass, making it clear in that moment that Sophia wasn’t good enough for Gina’s ambitious life plan.

That knowledge had shattered her heart into a million tiny pieces that could never be put back together again. No, worse. Her heart had been set alight, burned to a crisp, and ground to fine, dusty powder. There was nothing left of the thing except the dull ache in her chest where her heart had once been.

Explaining this to a guy she’d last seen as a pimply-faced high school freshman wearing lederhosen seemed a bit over the top.

As Sophia struggled for an escape from this conversation, her eyes fell on the charming white structure that was rapidly taking shape on the grassy town square. “You still haven’t told me what the thing is with the gazebo.”

“You won’t believe it,” Matt assured her, all talk of significant others seemingly forgotten. “Well, since you grew up in Sholan Falls, you might. Our town was the perfect location to film in, except for one thing. It lacked a gazebo.”

“Christmas movie towns must have gazebos,” Sophia commented, having become an expert on the genre after starring in no fewer than twenty holiday flicks. “Everyone knows that.”

“Exactly, and it’s an easy fix. We’re building one, like a quality one, not a prop. It’s made out of good wood and everything.” Matt gestured toward the partially finished structure, and Sophia could see for herself how nice it looked. “The deal is, after we wrap, we’re leaving the gazebo in place. It can’t be taken apart without destroying it.”

“It would be a waste to tear it down,” Sophia opined. “And this might be the only New England town that didn’t already have one. Seems like a win.”

“Oh, definitely,” Matt agreed. “Like I said before, half the town is thrilled.”

“And the other half?” Sophia was already holding back laughter. Even without knowing the details, she could guess whatever she was about to hear would be deliciously ridiculous. As she’d already noted, nothing much had changed in these parts, including small town drama.

“The other half is wicked pissed,” Matt explained, sucking in his cheeks in what seemed to be an effort to hold in his own laughter. “The historical society claims it’s an eyesore to have a gazebo with an architectural style from the 1910s while the downtown buildings were erected in the 1850s.” 

“Are you serious?” Sophia’s eyes darted to the perfectly lovely gazebo. “Is the town paying for it?”

“Not a dime, but Helen with the historical society is our resident mean girl, and in the end, people love to bitch about anything—” Matt’s eyes doubled in size as something behind Sophia caught his attention. “No! No! No!”

“What is it?” Sophia demanded as her head whipped toward whatever had caused the production assistant such alarm. Her heart was racing even though she had no idea what the problem could be. It sounded serious.

“Excuse me, Soph.” Formalities forgotten in the face of what had to be impending disaster, Matt stormed off without a backward glance, shouting, “We can’t have red, white, and blue bunting! This is a frigging Christmas movie, not the Fourth of July!” 

Sophia chuckled as she raised her coffee to her mouth. Her town was the same as always, all right. Although, as two crew members unfurled a giant roll of cotton batting to serve as snow beneath a massive fake Christmas tree, it was rapidly becoming unrecognizable, too. And surreal. The forecast called for seventy degrees that afternoon, unseasonably warm for early April. Although compared to all those middle of summer shoots she’d endured with Keynote, only sweating a little bit in her costume would be a delight.

As if channeling her younger self playing the role of Maria, Sophia spread her arms wide and spun in a slow, deliberate circle. She needed to take it all in, but as the details overwhelmed her, Sophia closed her eyes.

This feels like a dream.

When she’d come to a stop and opened her eyes again, a woman stood in front of her, with flawless dark skin and an abundant head of curls so unchanged since the last time Sophia had seen her that she was even more convinced she was dreaming. She’d had this dream a thousand times since graduation, only each time it ended up more like a nightmare, with Gina telling her she wasn’t good enough and walking away while Sophia sobbed in her cap and gown.

Despite the sweat that had begun to bead at the base of her hairline from the intense morning sun, Sophia shivered. The coffee cup she still held in one hand slipped from her grasp and smashed to the ground, spraying droplets all over Sophia’s feet.

The burn of hot liquid against her bare ankles jolted Sophia from her trance. “What the fuck, Gina?”

As her ex’s expression morphed from hesitance to shock, Sophia realized this definitely wasn’t a dream. For one thing, in her dreams, Sophia usually came up with a more appropriate greeting. Although the one she’d barked out certainly seemed to be having an impact. Gina appeared on the verge of turning tail and running away.

“I shouldn’t have come.” Gina was breathless to the point that Sophia feared she might pass out.

Before Gina could flee, Sophia reached for her arm and held her in place. “Oh no you don’t. I want to know what you’re doing here before you scram.”

“It’s stupid. I’m sorry.” In all their years together, Sophia couldn’t recall seeing the usually unflappable Gina so flustered. Not even the day she’d dumped her. Maybe especially not then. “I was going to ask a favor, but⁠—”

“You wanted to ask me a favor?” Sophia couldn’t believe she’d heard that right.

Gina shook her head. “Like I said, it was a mistake. I should just⁠—”

“There’s my baby girl!” Even coming from all the way on the other side of the town common, there was no mistaking that voice.

“Oh my God,” Sophia whimpered, spotting the source of the greeting. “It’s my mother.” Apparently, security on the set wasn’t fully operational yet. First Sophia’s ex and now her mom. Who was next? The Easter Bunny?

“Your mother?” Gina’s eyes widened, giving her the look of a terrified squirrel, as she, too, spotted the woman charging across the expanse of green, heading straight for them. “Oh shit.”

“Right?” Sophia tightened her grip on Gina’s arm, her brain whirling. One hour in town and her mother had already sniffed Sophia out. And now she’d know Sophia had lied to her, unless something really big happened to distract her. Like a meteorite the size that had wiped out the dinosaurs landing in the middle of Sholan Falls. Or, maybe… “You said you needed a favor?”

“Well, I⁠—”

“Whatever it is, I’ll do it.” Sophia’s words tumbled out in a whoosh, her heart racing as her mother yelled out her name again. Time was running out. “But you have to do something for me first.”

“Yeah, okay.” Gina had to have been as rattled as Sophia because she didn’t even stop to ask what before agreeing to it.

“Whatever I say or do for the next fifteen minutes, play along.” Sophia’s entire body vibrated as adrenaline coursed through every vein.

“Do?” A little late, Gina seemed to be rethinking whatever it was she’d gotten herself into. “What are you planning to do?”

“This…” With no further warning, Sophia clasped Gina to her, smashing their lips together in a bruising kiss.

CHAPTER THREE

The crush of Sophia’s demanding mouth drove the air from Gina’s lungs and all awareness from her brain, save for the rush of memories of every kiss they’d ever shared. Over the past ten years, Gina had convinced herself she’d exaggerated how good it felt to hold Sophia in her arms. All that hard work of self-deception was wiped out in less than a second. In truth, the reality was even better than Gina had remembered.

“I can’t believe it!” Sophia’s mom cried out.

Gina blinked away the fog in her eyes as Sophia released her lips and allowed their bodies to drift apart, though her ex maintained a vice-like grip on her arm, as though making sure Gina couldn’t flee. Smart thinking. Considering what Mrs. Rossi must think of Gina after breaking up with Sophia the way she had, running for the hills held a huge appeal.

“Uh… Mrs. Rossi,” Gina stuttered. Had there been anger in the woman’s tone? Gina had been too distracted being kissed by the woman’s daughter to notice. “Hi.”

“You two are back together again?” Sophia’s mother asked. Or was the question more of a demand? Gina was still unable to read the woman’s mood. All she could think of was how soft and full Sophia’s lips were, and how certain Gina had been she’d never experience that feeling again after how she’d treated Sophia ten years before.

For her own good, Gina reminded herself. But, still. Gina doubted Sophia saw it that way, which left one very important question.

What the hell had just happened?

“Mom,” Sophia soothed, removing one hand from Gina’s arm so she could use it to squeeze her mother’s shoulder. Apparently, Sophia had taken it upon herself to keep both the women tethered to her, perhaps so no one would fly off the handle. “I can explain.”

Gina tilted her head, dying to hear whatever story Sophia had concocted.

“And to think,” Mrs. Rossi replied, a look of fondness softening her features, “I was coming over here to scold you, young lady, for sneaking into town without so much as a text.”

“I know. I’m sorry, Mom. But… Gina and I wanted some alone time before our schedules got crazy.” Sophia threaded her fingers through Gina’s, giving every digit a death squeeze.

As Mrs. Rossi redirected her gaze, Gina tensed, preparing to be read the riot act. At least now she understood why Sophia had kissed her. That was about the only thing shocking enough to divert Mrs. Rossi from the cardinal sin of a daughter not alerting her mother Sophia was in town.

But the fact it had been Gina, of all people, on the receiving end of those lips? No way would Mrs. Rossi stand for that. There would be consequences, and apparently, Gina would have to face them as payment for Sophia agreeing to the favor Gina had yet to formally ask.

But instead of a scowl, the older woman broke into a broad, toothy grin. “This is the most amazing news. I’m completely overcome.” Mrs. Rossi waved a hand in front of her face, perhaps as a way of protecting her mascara from running, or she was winding up a sucker punch to Gina’s face.

“It is?” Gina clutched Sophia’s hand, grateful she’d yet to let go as it was suddenly the only thing keeping her upright. “You are?”

“Of course!” Mrs. Rossi gawked at them like they were part of a department store Christmas window. “I’ve been telling Sophia for years the two of you belong together like sugar and cinnamon. I’m grateful my fool of a daughter finally came to her senses.”

Baffled, Gina opened her mouth to ask what was going on. The way Mrs. Rossi made it sound, anyone would’ve thought Sophia had done the breaking up instead of Gina. As Sophia gave Gina’s fingers another squeeze, she shot Gina a look that said keep playing along, and I’ll explain later. Or maybe Mrs. Rossi’s mind wasn’t as sharp as it used to be, and it was only a matter of time until she remembered she hated Gina’s guts.

Gina’s pulse ticked faster, waiting for Mrs. Rossi’s lightbulb moment.

“Do you forgive me for telling you I wasn’t getting into town until the weekend?” Sophia asked her mom with such innocence that if Gina didn’t already know how talented an actor the woman was, this would have been all the proof needed.

“Of course, I do.” Mrs. Rossi pulled her daughter close enough to plant a kiss on the top of her head before offering Gina one of her warmest motherly smiles, the kind she’d missed so much that it immediately turned Gina’s insides as gooey as one of Mrs. Rossi’s freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. “Gina, how long are you here visiting from New York?”

“Oh… well…” Naturally, that was what Mrs. Rossi, and probably Sophia, assumed. It had been Gina’s plan to move there and pursue a career in documentary film the last they’d known. But life hadn’t worked out exactly how she’d plotted. “Funny thing, really. I recently moved back to the area.”

If six years could be considered recent.

Mrs. Rossi let out another mom-type squeal. “I had no idea!”

For good reason. Gina made it a point never to step foot in Sholan Falls. Part of it was the bittersweet memories of time spent with Sophia in this place, which tugged at old wounds and threatened to open them wide. The other part was dreading the possibility of bumping into Sophia’s mom, or her two sisters, or any member of the extended family. Beyond dreading condemnation from people she’d once loved, Gina feared falling down the rabbit hole of wondering if she’d made the worst mistake of her life in letting Sophia go.

“Now that the secret’s out of the bag,” Mrs. Rossi was saying, seemingly unaware that Gina hadn’t responded, “you two must come to dinner tonight.”

“Tonight?” Gina swallowed, her brain clawing at possible excuses to get out of saying yes.

“Yes, tonight.” There was just enough steel in Sophia’s tone, not to mention tension in that iron grip on Gina’s arm her ex showed no signs of loosening, that Gina shut her mouth and nodded. After all, she’d promised to go along with anything Sophia said or did for fifteen minutes, and though it felt like an eternity, she was pretty sure if she’d had the ability to move her arm enough to check her watch, no more than five minutes had passed so far.

“Wonderful!” Mrs. Rossi clapped her hands together, beaming with such joy Gina was glad to have had a part in it. She would send her regrets later, of course, concocting a plausible emergency. Gina did have a lot of grading to do, but that didn’t seem to tick the full-on emergency box for the likes of Mrs. Rossi. Nope, Gina would have to come up with something catastrophic, and based on Sophia’s performance so far, she would certainly be able to sell it. Since dinner landed well outside the fifteen-minute window, Gina wouldn’t have to feel guilty about canceling.

Just devastated.

“Mom, wouldn’t you like a tour of the set?” Sophia asked, raising her free hand to wave at a man with a clipboard and thick spectacles who was picking his way through a pile of cables and cords. “Hey, Matt!”

The man looked over, straightening up when he spotted Sophia and trotting over with an eager to please expression.

“Matt, you remember my mom, don’t you?” Sophia asked.

“Of course,” he replied. “Everyone knows Mrs. Rossi’s bakery makes the best cannoli in town.”

“Wait, now—” Mrs. Rossi took a step back, her eyes growing huge as she looked the man up and down. “This can’t be little Matt Pasini, can it?”

“All grown-up,” he told her, stating the obvious.

“Matt’s working as a production assistant on the film, Mom,” Sophia said briskly, probably so her mom wouldn’t have an opportunity to start strolling down memory lane. “I’m sure he’d love to take you around and show you everything.” As Matt’s face blanched, Gina knew from personal experience he was probably being run ragged and had real work to do, not babysit Mrs. Rossi. Sophia added in her most beguiling way, “Then he can introduce you to the right person to work out bringing over a big batch of cannolis to the set sometime. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“You bet!” The production designer’s eyes lit up at the promise of cannoli like it was actually almost Christmas instead of just looking like it. “Follow me, Mrs. Rossi.”

“That was smooth,” Gina said once the two were out of earshot.

As if realizing they no longer had to put on a show, Sophia dropped Gina’s hand like a lead balloon. “You have to come to dinner tonight.”

“That was not part of the deal,” Gina argued, panic rising as she realized it had been foolish to think this would continue to go as easily as it had seemed to in the beginning. Could they go back to the kissing?

Storm clouds settled deep into Sophia’s dark brown eyes. “What exactly is this deal? I have no idea what I agreed to.”

“I need you to be part of the Comstock College Pride Festival.”

“Our alma mater?” A mix of surprise and confusion played across Sophia’s features.

“I’m teaching there now,” Gina explained, not wanting to go into the details and risk revealing how poorly things had gone in New York. “So, you’ll do it?”

Sophia rested a finger on her chin. “I just need to attend?”

“Well…” Gina cringed as she allowed herself to draw out the last syllable way longer than she’d intended. “I need you to be the grand marshal. It means having your picture and name used in the publicity, riding on a special float in the parade, and giving a quick speech at the event.”

Sophia nodded, but much too slowly to be mistaken for agreement. Clearly, she was thinking it over, and no doubt looking either for a way out, or a way to get more out of Gina than the fifteen minutes she’d already given. “When is it?”

“Mid-May.”

“Oh. I’ll still be in town.” Sophia slumped, and a feeling of triumph washed over Gina. It was short-lived as Sophia demanded, “Why don’t you already have a grand marshal if the event is so close?”

“We, uh, did.” Gina swallowed hard, balking at telling Sophia the whole story, but the look in Sophia’s eyes said there was no way around it. “It was Lucas Brown.”

“Oh, fuck.” Sophia’s response, especially considering she’d never been much for bad language in the past, made it unnecessary for Gina to ask if Sophia was aware of the comedian’s recent dust-up. “I’m going to have to clear this with my publicist, the higher ups at IBC, and the producer on my film before I can⁠—”

“We had a deal!” Gina dug her fingernails into her palms as her indignation mounted. Or was it fear? So much was riding on the Pride Festival going off without a hitch.

“I’m not backing out.” Sophia put up a hand in a calming gesture. “But with Lucas Brown in the mix, this is bigger than I thought. The social media buzz is going to be through the roof, and if IBC is anything like the Keynote Channel, they may be skittish when it comes to LGBTQ+ stuff.”

“Oh, great,” Gina muttered. “Like it’s my fault you sold your soul to some homophobic⁠—”

“Stop right there,” Sophia commanded, an undeniable tinge of anger in her words that caught Gina by surprise. “You have no idea what I’ve been through or what it’s cost me to get to where I am right now. Know why? Because you left me to fend for my fucking self ten years ago. You don’t get to judge.”

Two fucks in one minute? That was bad. Really bad. No, wait. Sophia had said fuck when greeting Gina, if that could be called a greeting. So, it was much worse. Three fucks during one encounter.

“You’re right,” Gina rushed to placate. “I’m sorry. I’m in no position to say anything.”

“It isn’t easy to make it in Hollywood, Gina.” Sophia’s eyes shone with unshed tears that squeezed Gina’s heart like a vice.

Even if she’d wanted to cast a stone or two, she was in no position to do it. If Sophia had sold her soul to the Keynote Channel, Gina wasn’t much different in going to work for a mentor she knew would run her ragged and take all the credit. It turned out that was how the real world worked. Sometimes you had to compromise.

Other times, begging helped.

“I’m not asking for me, Soph.” Gina said quietly. “My students are devastated by what Lucas did, and⁠—”

“All right, all right, I get it.” Sophia sighed, long and low. “I’ll work it out on my end, whatever it takes. But this has definitely raised the bar, and I’m going to need something more from you.”

“Fine. What are we talking, like, dinner tonight with your parents?” Gina tensed, pretty sure she would never survive such an ordeal, but what could she do? The students were counting on her, and without a grand marshal, the Pride Festival would bomb, which would be disastrous for her tenure review.

“Dinner’s the least you can do. I don’t think you grasp how much trouble this is going to be for me. I’m the Queen of Christmas. My fans love red and green, but they’re not necessarily keen on rainbows.” Sophia pretended to consider her terms, though Gina had a feeling she already knew exactly what she wanted. “While I’m in town for this job, for as long as I have to put up with my mom pestering me about my life, I need you to pretend we’re dating. Do we have a deal?”

“It’s not like I have a choice.” Gina shut her eyes, wishing she’d never heard of Lucas Brown, Sholan Falls, and especially the Rossi family. She’d gotten what she’d come here for, but at what price? Gina had barely survived walking away from Sophia once. A second time might destroy Gina.

CHAPTER FOUR

When Sophia pulled up in front of the white two-story colonial house with the black shutters where she’d spent her childhood, Gina was already there, pacing the sidewalk in front of the neighbor’s place.

“What are you doing?” Sophia demanded in a stage whisper as she exited her car. “Have you forgotten which house it is?”

Gina spun around, and Sophia’s heart was pierced with a familiar ache at the sight of her ex. Sophia had spent hours working to make sure every hair was in place and all her flaws were well hidden. It was part of her job, no matter how fake it sometimes seemed. Meanwhile, Gina was the type who went through life unapologetically herself, with a natural beauty Sophia envied as much as she admired. And occasionally lusted after, even now.

“I haven’t forgotten,” Gina replied, her expression clouding with trepidation as her eyes landed on the Rossi house.

“Shall we?” Sophia asked lightly, holding out her arm. “My mom’s probably happier to see you tonight than me.”

“Come on.” As she said this, Gina raised an eyebrow in a way that telegraphed don’t shit with me. “Your whole family must hate me, considering the way I broke your heart.”

“They probably would, if they knew.” Sophia looked away, unable to face the sudden questioning in Gina’s eyes

“What are you talking about?”

“The truth is, I told them I broke up with you.” Sophia closed her eyes, bracing herself against the rush of hurt that still accompanied the memories of that terrible day.

“What?” There was no mistaking the disbelief in Gina’s tone.

“Yeah. I told them you’d only hold me back in LA. You know, like what you said to me about going with you to New York after you woke up one day and decided instead of writing rom-coms, you preferred being a documentary filmmaker.” Sophia grew defensive. “I couldn’t stand the thought of them pitying me. It was already so embarrassing, being dumped by the woman I thought I was going to spend my life with. Lying about it seemed way easier at the time.” It still did.

“Oh, Soph. Your mom must’ve been so mad at you.” The compassion in Gina’s tone caught Sophia off guard, as if Gina truly understood how hard it had been to pull off that lie. Considering how close they’d once been, perhaps she did. The only thing Gina wouldn’t be able to comprehend was the deeper motivation behind the omission. Even Sophia didn’t really understand why she’d allowed her family to blame her for the breakup for so long instead of revealing the truth.

“Never mind. It’s been years.” Sophia looped her arm around Gina’s, giving her a tug. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

Sophia’s hunch had been right about her parents’ house. Like the town of Sholan Falls, it hadn’t changed one bit. The same furnishings were placed exactly where they’d been a decade previously. The familiar smell of home cooking filled the air. And the indistinguishable loudness of having all the Rossis under one roof caused the walls to vibrate. Actually, Sophia thought it might even have gotten louder. How was that possible?

As soon as they rounded the corner into the kitchen that was somehow spacious and cozy at the same time, Sophia’s older sister, Bella, squealed.

“Oh my God! It’s true.” Ignoring Sophia completely, Bella pulled Gina into a hug made awkward by her prominent baby bump. “I thought Mom was having a menopausal fit when she said you two were back together.”

Gina’s eyes fell to the protrusion, a shell-shocked expression on her face. “Are you…?”

Too late, Sophia realized she’d overlooked the important step of bringing Gina up-to-date on the Rossi family. If her kin were going to believe they were back together, Sophia was going to have to cover for her mistake, quick. “Don’t you remember, Gina? I told you about Bella’s baby right after I mentioned Carrie was getting married this summer.”

“What? Oh, that’s right.” Gina nodded in an exaggerated way, showing that she’d caught on. “I guess I didn’t realize how close her due date was.”

“I’m seven months in, and let me tell you, I’m ready to get this tiny human out of me.” Bella caressed her baby bump lovingly. “I’m surprised Soph thought to mention it. She’s around so little I wasn’t convinced she’d remember.”

“That’s not true,” Sophia protested, although technically, it had been well over a year since her last visit, an eternity by her family’s standards. “I even brought a present with me for your baby shower this weekend.”

“You’re coming to the shower, right?” Bella demanded of Gina as Sophia stifled a groan. This invitation added an unwelcome layer of complication to their quid pro quo arrangement. If Gina didn’t come, her family would never believe they were dating. But to get her ex to agree, Sophia could only imagine what sorts of concessions she’d be forced to make.

Luckily, her baby sister, Carrie, arrived at exactly the right moment, garnering everyone’s attention the minute she walked through the door with a box of freshly printed wedding invitations, making it unnecessary for Gina to offer an answer about the baby shower. Sophia prayed by the time dinner was over, the whole thing would be long forgotten. Worst case, Sophia could tell them Gina had gotten sick. Or died. Either option worked for her.

“No way!” Setting down the box of programs, Carrie ran across the room and threw her arms around Gina. “I didn’t think it was possible.”

Sophia made a mental note that killing off her ex, even for pretend, wouldn’t fly in the Rossi family. They’d insist on hosting the wake. It wasn’t like Sophia needed to be the center of attention in her own family. Actually, that was a good thing, because despite people thinking actors always had to be the star of the show, as a middle child, she’d never been able to compete. She was used to it, but the way everyone was acting like Gina was the second coming or something kind of triggered her middle child insecurity more than Sophia cared to admit.

“There’s my girl!” Sophia’s dad barreled down the hallway toward them, and for a split second, Sophia considered stepping out of the way so as not to obstruct his pathway to Gina. But to Sophia’s surprise, the hug was meant for her, and as she burrowed her face into his thick flannel shirt that smelled faintly of bay rum aftershave, the sharp edge of her mood softened. “Who is this?”

“Dad.” Sophia rolled her eyes. “You remember Gina.”

“From college?” He eyed Gina like she was a faded photograph, the uncertainty in his tone giving Sophia pause. Her father was turning sixty-four later that year, and for the first time, it struck Sophia that he wasn’t a young man anymore.

“Oh, he’s pulling your leg,” Sophia’s mom said with a laugh, helping to dispel the worst of Sophia’s fear. “Of course, he remembers.”

A lingering cloudiness in her father’s eyes suggested otherwise, but he quickly affixed his smile. Sophia recognized it as his go-to look for avoiding a fight with his wife. How many times had he used that defensive tactic over the years?

“Anyone home?” A man called out from the entryway.

“In the kitchen, Tom,” Carrie called.

In walked a short man who was a dead ringer for the type her sisters had always dated since high school. The resemblance was so pronounced, Gina’s head swiveled instantly, searching out Sophia to exchange the type of bemused look that made all the good memories from their years together come flooding back.

Sophia was the only one of the three Rossi girls who’d strayed from dating the compact, dark-haired guys who were plentiful in their heavily Italian-American part of town. It was their preference, but not an expectation. Sophia smiled as she recalled the warm welcome they’d all given Gina. For as much pressure as her mother put on her not to be single, no one in her family had ever tried to tell her who she should love. Only that she should love someone. And marry them. And have kids, preferably after leaving Los Angeles behind for good in favor of buying a nice two-story colonial in Sholan Falls.

“Everyone sit down,” Sophia’s mother coaxed, ushering the family into the dining room, where a bowl of spaghetti had already been placed, along with homemade sauce, meatballs, freshly baked bread, and salad. The table was set for seven since Bella’s husband, a nurse, was working a night shift at the hospital. But based on the amount of food her mother had cooked, Sophia briefly wondered whether another twenty people planned to stop by later on.

“Gina, tell us what you’ve been up to,” Sophia’s mom directed.

“Not too much to tell, really.” Gina twirled her fork, the noodles going every which way. “I’ve been teaching at Comstock College, and I’m up for a tenure review soon. Otherwise, I’ve been working with Dr. Harlowe on a documentary about the Queer movement that we plan to finish and submit to the Sundance film festival this fall. We’ll be showing a snippet at the Pride Festival in May.” Gina said this part to Sophia.

“Impressive,” Bella said. “We always knew you’d do important work. Isn’t that right, Soph?”

Sophia pushed her fork into a meatball but didn’t lift it to her mouth. Her appetite had evaporated the second her sister had said the word important. That was exactly how Gina had described her work ten years ago when she’d told Sophia her films were too important to be distracted by their relationship.

Also, didn’t tenure take a while? Sophia wondered exactly how long it had been since Gina left New York.

“Sophia?” It was her mom who said her name, making Sophia realize she’d fallen into a murky pool of rumination without ever answering her sister’s question.

“Sorry. Long day at work.” Sophia forced herself to lift the fork to her mouth and take a small bite. The food was delicious, but it did little to mask the bitter taste left behind when her family continued peppering her ex with questions without so much as asking her how her first day on the set had been.

But what did Sophia expect? A Christmas movie was hardly important. For a few moments, earlier in the evening, Sophia had allowed herself to sink into the false comfort and familiarity of being home again with Gina. To let herself imagine this little charade they had going might have a glimmer of reality to it. She wouldn’t let it happen again. Gina Mitchells had achieved exactly the level of greatness she’d set out to reach when she’d left Sophia behind in the dust.

And Sophia? At the end of the day, she was starring in a made-for-streaming holiday film, and not even a very good one. The cast’s table read of the script that day had made that much clear. There was no substance to it. Despite the significant resources IBC was investing and the financial rewards Sophia hoped to reap as a result, it was hardly what anyone would call important. Especially not Gina.

Somehow, Sophia made it most of the way through dinner, choking down enough of her food to avoid her mother’s sharp eye. When they’d reached the lull before dessert, Sophia’s phone vibrated. She didn’t dare pull it out of her pocket. Her mother wasn’t the type who saw the need to be on a phone when family was around. But it kept buzzing, and everyone in the room was giving her a look that screamed Aren’t you going to answer that?

“Excuse me a minute,” Sophia said, rising from her chair and heading toward the bathroom for some semblance of privacy.

Her heart leaped to her throat when the flurry of texts from her publicist appeared on the home screen, along with a link to a Twitter post from the official Comstock College Pride Festival account, announcing Sophia Rossi as this year’s grand marshal.

“Shit!” Sophia reached for the porcelain sink to support her weight. Her producer would be furious, especially being blindsided like this before she’d had a chance to smooth things over in just the right way. And if IBC was anything like the Keynote Channel had been, they would see this as an attack and want someone’s head on a platter. Probably hers. She’d be fired for sure.

How could Gina have done this to me?

She should have expected it, though. Gina had proven ten years ago that she would always put her own career first. But to be betrayed right at the moment she’d started to feel that spark stirring between them again—it was just too much.

Marching into the family room, Sophia offered what she knew was the same smile her father utilized in similar situations. Gina’s sober expression said she remembered it well. “I have to be on the set early tomorrow. Gina, you ready?”

“You can’t go yet!” her mother wailed. “What about dessert?”

“Let it go, Angie,” her father said, coming to her rescue. Maybe he’d recognized the meaning behind Sophia’s stiff smile, too.

“Sophia’s right.” Gina released a yawn Sophia was fairly certain was less than genuine. “I have a stack of term papers that aren’t going to grade themselves.”

“I hope you don’t have to stay up too late,” Sophia’s mom said with sincerity. “You must take home some cannoli.” She shot out of the room, returning comically fast with a box large enough to hold at least a dozen of the promised pastries. The only thing that kept her from looking like a scene out of a Roadrunner cartoon was the lack of smoke billowing from her heels. “There’s more where that came from.”

Sophia made for the door before her mom could follow through with a second container. Outside, when out of view of any of the windows, Sophia allowed her face to drop its mask. Her jaw clenched as she held up her phone to Gina. “Explain this.”

“What?” For her part, Gina seemed genuinely perplexed as she took the phone, her expression doing such a good job of morphing into one of horror as she took it all in that Sophia wondered if the filmmaker had ever considered working on the other side of the camera. “I’m going to kill them.”

“Don’t bother pretending,” Sophia growled. “It wouldn’t be the first time you backed me into a corner to get what you wanted. Why didn’t you trust me? I just needed a day or two to go through the proper channels before you guys started pasting my image all over your social media accounts.”

“That’s not—okay, I see why you think I’d be capable of it. Trust me; I had no part in this, but I do plan on getting to the bottom of it.”

“You do that!” Sophia stared daggers at Gina. “Meanwhile, I’ll try to convince Holden Dix not to fire me.”

“Who is Holden Dix?” Despite the gravity of the situation, Gina’s lips twitched. Understandable, considering Sophia’s producer had been given a name a porn star would envy.

“He’s the one who decides if I still have a job, and if I ever get to work in Hollywood again.” Sophia refused to lighten the mood by indulging in one of the hundreds of dick jokes the man’s name so aptly inspired. Instead, she glared intently until the last trace of levity washed away, and her eyes shifted to the ground.

A moment later, Gina took out her own phone, tapping on the screen in a frenzy. “The tweet’s gone.”

Sophia crossed her arms. “The damage has been done.”

Gina sighed with such anguish, Sophia almost believed she’d had as little to do with this fiasco as she claimed. “What can I do to make this up to you?”

Sophia wanted to tell her to go to hell, to leave and never speak to her again. After all, Sophia had finally gotten used to living without her ex, and she’d been doing just fine.

Instead, she said, “For starters, you’re coming to my sister’s baby shower with me this weekend. Don’t even think about making an excuse.”

Sophia felt as surprised by this turn of events as Gina looked, but somewhat uplifted, too. Making Gina do her bidding for the next several weeks would be much more entertaining than cutting her off. Assuming Sophia could work some magic and keep from getting fired, that was.

Time to make some calls.

CHAPTER FIVE

“Just tell her what you told me,” Gina urged as she and Megan approached the security guard who was standing beside the temporary barrier that had been erected to close off the film set from the rest of downtown Sholan Falls. Gina adopted her most reassuring tone as she tried to coax Megan from their hiding place behind her back.

“I don’t like it when people hate me.” Megan’s lower lip trembled. Gina wanted to scream at them not to start crying again, but quickly thought better of it. For one thing, screaming rarely led to less crying. And considering Sophia was as softhearted as they came, tears could help their case.

“It’s going to be okay,” Gina soothed, hoping she was right. That Sophia had agreed to let them visit the set today after last night’s fiasco was a promising sign, almost as good as knowing that at least for the moment, Sophia still had her job. Although, security was tighter today as if fearful a band of rainbow warriors would whisk away their precious Queen of Christmas.

Gina gave their names to the security guard, who spoke into a walkie-talkie to an unseen third party. An answer crackled through the device, which Gina couldn’t make out but assumed must’ve been some form of approval, because the guard nodded, moving aside to let them through.

There was even more activity on set this morning than there had been the day before. The knot in Gina’s stomach, which had been growing since leaving the Rossis’ house, tightened. Though no stranger to film making, this production was like nothing she’d ever experienced. The size of the crew and the sheer amount of equipment was overwhelming, like taking one of her documentaries and force-feeding it steroids.

The much-needed reminder of how different her world and Sophia’s had become was a punch to the gut, nonetheless. For a moment at dinner, before things had gone sideways with the discovery of the ill-timed tweet, Gina had felt the old spark between her and Sophia rekindling. She’d longed to bask in the warm glow of it and wasn’t so naive as to think she wouldn’t have been tempted to stoke the flames, too. But they didn’t belong together any more now than they had ten years ago. It was best Gina remember that and focus on the task at hand—remaining on speaking terms with her ex until after the Pride Festival—rather than indulging in pointless fantasies.

Exiting one of the trailers that had been set up alongside the town common, Sophia made her way over. Megan let out a terrified yelp before ducking behind Gina again. Sophia slowed as she got closer, giving Gina a questioning look before saying, “Good morning.”

“Hi,” Gina said, wishing Megan would stop impersonating a shadow long enough to smooth things over rather than leaving it all to her. “I found out what happened with the tweet. It was a huge mistake.”

“Huge,” echoed Megan, still not coming into view.

“Yes, I think we’d already established that.” Not a trace of the earlier warmth could be found in Sophia’s eyes. Even though Gina knew she shouldn’t let that bother her, it stung.

“It’s your bloody American dates,” Megan declared, finding some bravery after all.

“Excuse me?” Sophia’s features settled into a scowl.

Gina sighed, fearing Megan’s input had done more harm than good to Sophia’s mood. “Megan here was designing some graphics for the festival’s social media pages. When they went to schedule the posts, they meant to choose May fourth but selected April fifth instead.”

“I… I’m so sorry,” Megan stammered. “If I got you in trouble, I’ll just die.”

“Please, don’t do that.” Sophia offered the young student an encouraging smile. She’d always been kind, and it lifted Gina’s heart to see the years hadn’t changed that. “As it happens, my publicist was able to smooth things out with the network higher-ups.”

“That’s great,” Gina began. “How did⁠—?”

“What the fuck, Sophia?” a man barked, charging at them with all the grace of an angry bull. Gina’s hackles went up instantly. “Time is money. Don’t you have a scene to be running instead of standing around gabbing?”

“It’s hard to start rehearsals when my co-star hasn’t shown up yet, Mr. Dix,” Sophia answered.

This was the infamous Holden Dix? Gina choked back a laugh. The balding man certainly lived up to his name.

“What are you talking about?” the producer demanded. “Where the hell is Butch? And who are they?” The man jerked his head to Gina and Megan. “If they’re extras, did they get the memo that this is a Christmas flick? They look like hobos.”

“These are two of the people from the Comstock College Pride Festival I was telling you about earlier,” Sophia explained in an even tone that Gina knew from experience meant she was holding in her wrath.

“She’s not going to be in your little festival.” Mr. Dix eyed Gina and Megan with the type of look usually reserved for gum—or something worse—that had gotten stuck to the bottom of a shoe. It was a look Gina had experienced from a Hollywood producer before, her senior year of college when she’d been told a Black lesbian would never be able to write a romantic comedy that would sell. This man’s unmerited scorn brought all the pain of that rejection back in a rush, shaking Gina from the inside out with impotent rage.

“Mr. Dix,” Sophia argued, but he held up a hand, silencing her.

“You heard me. What’s next on the kick some ass list?” The man greedily rubbed his hands together, clearly relishing his tough guy street cred. Or was it simply bluster due to his bald head that made him a walking caricature of his last name? Had neither of his parents said the name aloud to see what a name like that would saddle a person with their whole life?

“I don’t think you understand,” Sophia persisted, earning new respect from Gina, who wished she’d found similar courage ten years ago when faced with a similarly arrogant ass. “My publicist worked it out with the company last night.”

“As the producer of this film, I am the company.” The man’s face had grown red, and spittle flew from his mouth as he took a step closer to Sophia.

Instinctively, Gina inched closer, angling her body to be able to step between them if the situation called for it. She may have been meek when she was in college, but life had taught her a thing or two since then, and she refused to allow anyone to bully Sophia. Perhaps sensing this, the man took a step back, leveling a finger at Sophia as he added, “Don’t you dare go over my head.”

“I would never.” Sophia placed a hand over her heart in an award-worthy act of innocence that Gina knew was total bullshit. It was a good thing the woman wasn’t looking in her direction because Gina wasn’t sure she’d be able to stop herself from grinning and putting her hand up for a high five. “In fact, even I wasn’t informed until just a few minutes ago. Mr. Abrams’s assistant called to let me know my participation in the festival was a go. I’m sure you’re next on the list.”

As if on cue, the man’s phone rang. Tight-lipped, he stepped out of earshot to take the call.

“Who is that beast?” Megan asked, finally finding their voice. “Is he always like that?”

“Believe it or not, that is the man known in the industry as Mr. Christmas,” Sophia said, gritting her teeth. “He’s not usually that nice.”

“Are you positive he’ll let you be our grand marshal?” Gina asked, guilt pooling in her belly for having dragged Sophia into this mess.

“He won’t be given a choice. My publicist managed to explain to his boss’s boss just how badly IBC could use some points with the LGBTQ+ community.”

“Why is that?” Gina asked.

“They’ve been raked over the coals for killing off a popular lesbian character on one of their shows.” Sophia’s eyes held a glint of mischief that suggested she’d been the one to come up with that particular line of attack. “Despite the good press the news division has enjoyed from having Dakota Washington and Amanda Morgan on the team, the entertainment side is taking a beating. My publicist simply reminded them of this fact.”

“That’s all it took?” Gina waited for the other shoe to drop.

“Not exactly.” Sophia’s eyes fluttered shut. “There were a few concessions I had to agree to for the duration of my current contract.”

“Concessions?” Gina had a sinking feeling. Whatever Sophia had been strong-armed into, it didn’t sound good. “What kind of concessions?”

“While the company is aware that I identify as bisexual and is willing to allow me to participate in the festival, they’ve requested that I do not engage in any behavior that could be construed as… well, that is to say⁠—”

“They’re forbidding you from doing anything gay?” Megan interjected, clearly incensed. “That’s unconstitutional. You could sue!”

“I would lose,” Sophia told the student gently, giving voice to exactly the thought that was in Gina’s head. “They were subtler in their wording, and I got the impression it was mostly a move to make sure they could get Holden Dix onboard with the decision.”

“That’s bullshit,” Megan argued. “That man can’t dictate—wait, is your producer’s name really Holden Dix?”

“Some things you simply can’t make up,” Sophia confirmed.

Gina chuckled as she glanced at the producer, who was red-faced and screaming into his phone like a spoiled child having a tantrum.

“Even though no one else goes by their last name on set, everyone always calls him Mr. Dix,” Sophia said. “He thinks it’s a sign of respect.”

“He’s that dumb?” Megan asked.

“Most men in his position are,” Sophia said. “He’s scared. His last two movies at Keynote came in past deadline and over budget, only to get panned. Lucky for him, he’d already signed the contract with IBC, but my gut says if this one doesn’t go right, he’ll be out on his bum here just like he would’ve been at Keynote if he hadn’t quit in the St. Nick of time.”

“Couldn’t happen to a nicer Dix.” Megan paused before saying, “I am really sorry. I didn’t mean to get you into trouble. Not after you saved our asses.”

“It’s okay,” Sophia told Megan with a sincerity that despite her fine acting skills, Gina believed to be completely genuine.

“But now you’re in trouble, and you’ve had to agree to a completely terrible arrangement.” Megan pointed to Mr. Dix, who had ended his phone call and was now railing at some hapless woman who’d been passing by. “Does he hate women?”

Sophia blew out a breath. “I think it’s safe to say he hates everyone.”

“Why do jerks like that always seem to stay in control?” Megan asked as Mr. Dix kicked the gazebo. He immediately seemed to regret it, hopping on one foot and screaming obscenities. “Anyway, Ms. Rossi, everyone at the college really appreciates what you’re doing for us.”

“Call me Sophia, and it’s my pleasure.” A hint of something troubling passed over her face but disappeared before Gina could figure out what it was. “Unfortunately, misogyny still rules Hollywood. They’re just getting better at sugar coating it.”

“We really should get going,” Gina said, directing the comment at Megan. “We’ve taken up enough of Sophia’s time. She has a full day of rehearsals and fittings ahead of her.”

“Yeah, and my morning class starts in thirty minutes,” Megan added. “I can’t believe it’s after ten already.”

“Is it?” Sophia glanced at her phone, frowning. “Where is Butch? He was supposed to be here over an hour ago.”

“Is he usually late?” Gina asked.

Sophia frowned. “No, and we’ve worked together a number of times.”

“Will Mr. Dix speak to Butch the way he did to you?”

“Not a chance. Butch is one of Dix’s favorite leading men.”

“Handsome and dumb as bricks?” Gina guessed, earning her a laugh from both Sophia and Megan.

“Sophia!” The production assistant Gina had met the day before came running up, winded and looking like he’d been chased across the common by Satan himself. “I just got a call from the local hospital. Butch was in a motorcycle accident this morning. I don’t have details, but it sounded bad.”

“Oh, God!” Sophia gasped, teetering in a way that made Gina fear she would pass out.

Without pausing to think, Gina rushed to steady her, wrapping an arm around Sophia’s waist. At the same time, she turned to toss her car keys to Megan. “Why don’t you take my car, and head back to campus so you don’t miss class? I’m going to stay here to make sure Sophia’s okay.”

CHAPTER SIX

“They say he’s got a broken collar bone and abrasions all along his left side.” Sophia settled beside Gina on a bench near the gazebo, the scent of fresh paint and sawdust thick in the air.

“What does that mean for today? And for after, I guess?” The concern in Gina’s tone warmed places inside Sophia she’d barely known were there, and it took all her willpower not to curl herself into a ball against her ex’s soft, welcoming body.

“They’ve told us to go home and report back tomorrow at our regular call times,” Sophia answered, exhaustion clouding her brain as she tried to work through all the possible long-term scenarios at once. “They’ll have to replace him. I don’t see how Butch would heal fast enough to work, considering we’re supposed to film this whole thing in six weeks.”

“Six?”

Sophia laughed as Gina’s eyebrows shot halfway up her forehead. “That’s a luxury. I’m used to filming in three.”

Gina’s jaw went slack. “How do you film an entire movie in three weeks?”

“With extreme efficiency,” Sophia replied. “Keynote has mastered the art of it, which is how they can make thirty new Christmas films in a year. This is IBC’s first, and they’re willing to part with the resources for a higher production value, within reason. Time is still money, which means they’ll have to start recasting right away.”

“They won’t consider a delay?”

“For an actor?” Sophia let out a grunting laugh. “Heck no. We have a crew of twenty-five people getting paid by the day, plus the cost of equipment and permits. Do you have any idea what the pitch to delivery cycle was supposed to be on this project? Four months.”

“From concept to finished product?” Gina let out a low whistle. “I don’t see how that’s even possible. I wouldn’t have thought a network like IBC ran on those kind of time constraints.”

“I don’t think they do, normally,” Sophia answered, grateful for a few minutes of mundane shop talk to clear her head. “But since the Christmas market is a new one for them, they brought in Dix as an expert. He learned everything he knew working at Keynote, so that’s how we’re doing it here, too.”

“What are you going to do now?” Gina asked.

“You mean this very second?” Sophia shrugged. “Go back to my room at the inn, I guess. Hide there and hope my mom doesn’t hear I got the day off.”

“But, it’s a beautiful spring day. Staying inside on a day like this should be illegal.”

“I see that part of your personality hasn’t changed.” Sophia gave Gina a nudge with her shoulder. “The whole carpe diem thing.”

“You used to like that about me…” Gina let her voice trail off, as if recalling all the reasons she’d given Sophia not to like her anymore.

Instead of dwelling on it, Sophia laughed. The more time she spent around her ex, the more she realized how much water had flowed under that bridge, enough that carrying a grudge was hardly worth the effort and exhaustion. “I still can’t wrap my brain around this whole bizarre situation.”

“What part of it?” Gina asked.

“Us pretending we’re dating when around my family, for one thing. And now having to hide the fact we’re pretending to date, thanks to my homophobic producer.”

“I’ve never met a more aptly named man,” Gina commented dryly. “But you’re right, it could be a plot from a terrible made-for-TV movie.”

“I don’t know.” Sophia paused, questioning whether to reveal the rest of her thought. Up until now, she’d kept her opinions close to the vest, but this was Gina. She’d understand. “Even that sounds better than this third-rate script I’m working with.”

Gina tilted her head. “I thought you were excited by this project.”

“I am,” Sophia rushed to clarify. “Don’t get me wrong. The opportunity is amazing. If this project goes well, I’m looking at a multi-film contract, even producer credits and a twenty-percent cut of international rights down the road. But remember that Christmas movie drinking game we played in college?”

“Only very vaguely,” Gina said with a laugh. “Which I assume means I played it correctly.”

“It was when you were working on your script, back when you were still writing rom-coms instead of changing the world.” Back when we shared the same dreams. Sophia pressed her lips together tightly as she tried to squeeze the bitterness from her tone, which crept in whenever she thought of that happy time before her world had come crashing down. “We made a list of all the corny tropes and plot devices we could think of before the Christmas countdown started. Then we took shots every time one showed up.”

“I do remember that.” Gina cleared her throat, and Sophia could almost imagine she was trying to clear away the emotion lodged there. Or maybe it was only Sophia who still got choked up reminiscing about those days. “How drunk would we get from your current script?”

“Blackout level,” Sophia assured her. “Like go on a two-week bender and wake up with a stranger’s name tattooed across your ass kind of drunk.”

Gina’s face lit up, and she rubbed her hands together in obvious glee. Picking apart terrible movies had been one of their favorite hobbies in college. “Tell me more.”

“This is a classic,” Sophia said. “Successful girl leaves the big city to come home and help run the family business after her father has a stroke.”

“Let me guess. The family business is a Christmas tree farm.”

“Nope. Strike one.” Sophia acted out being a home plate umpire. “Try again.”

“What happens if I strike out?”

“You don’t get to spend the day with me.”

“That’s not fair!”

“Why not?” Sophia’s heart fluttered as Gina looked away, visibly flustered.

“It’s a commonly known fact these movies have twenty-four plot variations, and I only have two guesses left. There’s a lot riding on this.”

“Twenty-four plot points?” Sophia asked as casually as she could to hide how her heart had clenched to discover that Gina actually wanted to spend the day together. She’d tossed out the consequences willy-nilly, only to realize as soon as they were out of her mouth how desperately she wanted Gina to stick around.

Just for the day, of course. Nothing more than that.

“Yes. It’s very scientific, being the exact number needed to fill out a BINGO card.”

“I’ll have to trust you on that,” Sophia teased. “You’re the professor, and I’ve always hated math.”

“Do I get any clues?”

“No way.” Sophia enjoyed seeing the panic in Gina’s eyes.

“Fine,” Gina practically growled. “I’m ruling out the royalty angle right now, given the location.”

“Unless my character doesn’t know she’s a princess.” Sophia arched a brow in the way she recalled used to drive Gina crazy.

“Mind games? Really?” From the way Gina shifted her body, Sophia suspected her eyebrow trick still had the desired effect.

That was useful to know.

On the other side of the common, Sophia heard her producer let loose a steady stream of profanity. She hopped to her feet, reaching out to give Gina a hand up. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Worried chatting with your ex will violate your don’t act gay clause?” Gina razzed, following Sophia.

“More like I’m afraid he’ll spot me and decide to kill off my character out of spite.”

“Oh, I know enough about these movies to know that will never happen.” Gina’s tone took on a sharp edge as she added, “That’s why they don’t like to have gay characters or minorities. You’re not allowed to kill anyone off in a Christmas movie.”

Sophia led the way down a side street, past the local hamburger joint that, according to the sign, had been sitting on the same corner for sixty-seven years,

“Do you remember puking in the parking lot over there?” Sophia asked, recalling the first holiday break Gina had spent with her in Sholan Falls during college.

“It’s the reason I still hate pickles.”

“It wasn’t the pickles,” Sophia scolded. “We drank way too much, which is apparently a theme from our misspent youth.”

“The pickles didn’t help,” Gina argued, although it was clear her mood was lifting. “Not at all.”

“Tequila shots are never a wise decision. Look at this.” Sophia pointed to the freshly laid asphalt. “It must be the new rail trail. I think Mom said it opened last week. Boo’s Burgers put in the bike rack to encourage families to stop for a bite.”

“It’s funny. So much has changed but not really. I mean, Boo’s Burgers is still here. Your parents’ house is the same. And yet…”

A weight settled in Sophia’s chest. “I know. Sometimes it’s like I’ve never been here before. Like I don’t belong.”

“I get that, although you’ve been back more recently than I have. Until yesterday, I hadn’t stepped foot in Sholan Falls since college.”

“But… you live almost next door.” Sophia wanted to ask Gina why she’d stayed away, if it had been because of her, but didn’t think it wise. Most likely, Gina had been too busy doing important things, and it had nothing to do with Sophia at all. “Boo’s Burgers are the best. When filming is done, we’re going there for victory burgers.”

“It’s a date!”

Sophia faked a coughing attack to cover for the sudden giggle that bubbled up from her throat at that unexpected word. A date? Sure, that was what they were pretending they were doing, at least to Sophia’s family. But technically, by the time filming was over, their arrangement would be, too. Did that mean their trip to Boo’s Burgers would be a real date?

Don’t be an idiot.

“How did you end up teaching?” Sophia asked, fishing for some way to change the conversation.

Gina groaned, which was not the reaction Sophia had expected. “You know what they say. There are those who do, and then there are those who teach.”

“Nonsense.” Sophia eyed Gina with disbelief. “You’re a brilliant documentarian. You had a film nominated for an IDA.”

“Eight years ago, and it didn’t win. Look where that got me.” Gina made a ta-da motion with her hand. “Documentaries don’t bring in the big bucks, so… I needed a Plan B.”

“Professor isn’t a bad Plan B.”

“If you get tenure,” Gina corrected. “And if your department head likes you.”

“Didn’t you say you were working with Dr. Harlowe?” From what Sophia could remember, Gina had been teacher’s pet in the pretentious professor’s classes in undergrad.

The silence was deafening.

“You still love making documentaries, right?” Sophia’s pulse sped up as she contemplated what a waste it all would be if Gina wasn’t happy after everything she’d given up. “You said it was your dream. Your calling.”

It was why you left me, she all but screamed in her head.

“Sure. Of course.” Gina offered one of her trademark shrugs, but it lacked her usual smugness. “Never fear. I may not make the big bucks, but I’ll never quit.”

“Money isn’t everything,” Sophia countered, “and if you think I’m rolling in the dough, you couldn’t be more wrong.”

“Whatever, Miss Movie Star.”

Sophia’s eyes narrowed. “You know what I earned on my first few films? Two grand a week. And if I didn’t book another gig within a week of getting back to LA, I was making lattes at the local coffee place to pay rent.”

Gina made a pshaw sound. “You seem to be doing okay now.”

“Sure, after ten years,” Sophia admitted, a swell of pride in her breast. “I have a cushion. I can pay the bills, put money into retirement, and live off savings for a while in between roles. But I have to be smart, and I’m no star. Not everyone has Lana Turner’s luck, being discovered at a malt shop only to go on to have a successful fifty-year career.”

“You don’t want to be like Turner.”

“Because she was also a pin-up model? Hell, she made more than me in the 1940s.”

“She had a very unhappy life, for all her success,” Gina answered in a sober tone that cut short any further argument. “Did you know her father was murdered? She was divorced seven times, too, and that was just the tip of the iceberg. She had professional luck, but it stopped there. You deserve success and happiness.”

“In this business, it seems like you either get one or the other, but not both.”

Gina stopped in her tracks, staring deeply into Sophia’s eyes. “Don’t ever doubt you can have both. I know you. You’re a fighter who doesn’t settle. Don’t you dare start now.”

Sophia fell silent and continued walking, turning her focus to the movement of her feet on the dark asphalt path. A fighter who didn’t settle? It didn’t sound like her, whatever Gina might think. If either of those things had been true, she never would have agreed to let Gina dump her without putting up more of a fight. Because it was becoming increasingly clear, the more time she and Gina spent together, that if anyone could bring her happiness in this life, it was her ex.

If only it wasn’t ten years too late to fight for her.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“Who’s ready to smell some dirty diapers?” Gina stood outside the brightly painted Victorian bed and breakfast where Sophia was staying. They’d agreed to meet on Saturday morning so they could show up to the Rossi house together like an official couple.

“What are you talking about?” Sophia stepped onto the porch wearing a floral dress that ended right above the knee. It was exactly the right outfit for the occasion, modest yet stylish, and Gina found she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the woman’s shapely, tanned calves. The sudden stirring of attraction would help her sell the authenticity of their relationship to Sophia’s family today, but Gina feared she might start believing it herself.

“I’ve never been to a baby shower before, so I did some research,” Gina explained, dragging her eyes upward to Sophia’s face. “By that, I mean I fell into a YouTube rabbit hole. Apparently, there are a lot of games.”

“You didn’t know that?” Sophia wore a bemused expression that said Gina’s ignorance on such matters was more adorable than surprising.

“If I’d known that, do you think I would’ve agreed to attend without putting up more of a fight? I already had to dig out my nice clothes on a day I would usually wear sweats.” Gina gestured to the crisp trousers and silk blouse she’d chosen, secretly pleased when Sophia’s gaze lingered on the low-cut neckline.

Not that she’d chosen it for that reason.

“Too late to back out now,” Sophia warned.

“But, Soph,” Gina argued. “One of the most popular games involves dumping baby food into a diaper, and you have to guess the food. That’s gross.”

“We’re definitely playing it. My aunts love that game.” It was clear Sophia enjoyed watching Gina squirm.

“I’m not backing out,” Gina said as she headed toward her parked car, “but I want to put this out there. Our Christmas movie BINGO game is far better.”

“Agreed.” Sophia pointed to Gina’s car. “Oh, good. You got it back from your student in one piece.”

“Yes, but my stash of granola bars in the driver’s side door was sadly depleted.” Gina opened the passenger door for Sophia, stepping aside to allow her to get in. “I think Megan was stress eating after the encounter with you.”

“Don’t worry. You won’t need them today.” Sophia set the two gift bags she’d been carrying on the floor and buckled her seatbelt. “You know how my mom is about food. And, there’s going to be cake.”

“Let’s hope it isn’t baby-shaped because I’m not sure I can cut into a baby.” Despite her words, Gina chuckled to herself. Ever since seeing Sophia again after so long, Gina had this feeling of elation that was hard to tamp down, let alone control.

“Was that something else you saw on the internet?” Sophia asked when Gina sat down behind the wheel. “It sounds like you found a real horror show down that rabbit hole.”

“You have no idea,” Gina confirmed. “There’s not going to be a gender reveal, is there? One with fireworks? They don’t go well, from everything I’ve found. Given the troubles you’re already having on the set, I don’t think it’s wise for you to be anywhere near an exploding cannon or something.”

“Knowing Bella, she’s absolutely opposed to the idea. I doubt she’s even asked the baby’s gender, as she’s always explaining how it’s nothing but an outdated social construct. Sometimes, I think my sisters are more LGBTQ+ than I am.” Sophia sighed. “I’m really hoping she likes my—er, our gifts.”

“What did you—uh, we—get her?” Gina craned her neck as she slipped the key into the ignition, trying to catch a peek, but Sophia pulled the bags shut. “Why didn’t you ask me to go shopping with you?”

“It didn’t even cross my mind.”

“Oh.” Well, that pretty much stamped out Gina’s happy feeling. Apparently, as far as Sophia was concerned, it was out of sight, out of mind.

Perhaps sensing she’d said the wrong thing, Sophia quickly added, “I bought something before I came back to town, and Mom didn’t trust me to have chosen correctly, so she dropped off another gift yesterday. I’ll give my sister the gift my mom bought, and you can give her what I originally intended to.”

“What is it?” Gina asked with growing alarm. “It’s something awful, isn’t it? Probably frilly and pink. Is this your way of making sure your sister hates me?”

“Are you kidding?” Sophia scoffed. “I would have thought it was clear after dinner the other night that my sister is way more excited to have you at the shower today than me. But just to soothe your nerves, it’s a pack of onesies in appropriately gender-neutral colors.”

“Thank goodness.”

“You know if I let you show up with a terrible gift, my family would blame me for sabotaging you. As if I wasn’t already the black sheep of the family for moving out west. I don’t need another mark against me, considering they’ll definitely disown me when I eventually have to break the news we’ve broken up again.”

Despite an immediate stab in the gut at the reminder of how temporary their newfound connection was, Gina forced a laugh. “Do you think your mom is buying our story?”

“I mean…” Sophia hesitated. “I think she wants to, but she isn’t dumb. Be on the lookout for tests today.”

“Just what I need,” Gina said with a groan.

She turned onto Sophia’s parents’ street and could see the Rossi house from half a block away. The front yard was covered in all things baby, though as Sophia had predicted, the balloons had a gender-neutral yellow and green color scheme.

There was already an excited buzz inside the house as they entered, and Gina instantly identified dozens of familiar faces. Apparently, every single friend and family member had managed to stay on good terms over the past ten years, making Gina the only odd one out. And yet, the minute she’d walked through the door, she was enveloped in hugs and had her cheeks kissed more times than she had in all the intervening years combined. As an only child whose parents had not kept in close touch with their extended families, it was completely overwhelming.

But also kind of nice.

“Time for the games!” Mrs. Rossi announced brightly before Gina had a moment to catch her breath. “It’s such a nice spring day, so I set everything up out back.”

Sophia shot Gina an apologetic look as they followed the rest of the guests into the backyard.

The space was even more decorated than the front, with dozens of lawn chairs set up beneath a big popup tent to accommodate the crowd. As soon as Gina and Sophia had taken seats, Mrs. Rossi dragged Bella to the center of the tent. Sophia’s other sister, Carrie, walked around the circle, handing everyone a spool of ribbon and a small pair of craft scissors. Gina tried to recall a game that began like this from the videos she’d watched but was baffled.

“Okay, ladies,” Mrs. Rossi said in a booming voice. “The goal of this game is to guess how much ribbon it will take to fit around Bella’s baby belly. You have one minute, and no touching or trying to measure.”

While the others laughed, Gina was horrified. If there ever was a social pitfall guaranteed to put her on the outs with Sophia’s sister for good, this had to be it.

“Is she serious?” Gina whispered to Sophia.

“I think so.” Sophia was already dutifully unspooling her ribbon, a determined look on her face.

As the rest of the guests began to do the same, Gina eyed their results, hoping for a clue of how to proceed. Mrs. Rossi seemed determined to use as much ribbon as possible, so at least Gina wasn’t likely to embarrass herself by having the most insultingly long piece.

“Mother!” Bella hollered when she caught what her mother was doing. “How large do you think I am?”

“Oh, don’t be so sensitive. It’s just a game.” Mrs. Rossi waved a dismissive hand. “Five seconds left!”

Looking at her own spool, Gina cut a piece about half the length of Mrs. Rossi’s, just as the timer began to buzz.

“Close call,” Sophia teased.

“I forgot how stress-inducing your family could be.”

Stress-inducing, yes, but also fun. When it was Gina’s turn to test her ribbon, somehow, she was only off by an inch.

“We have a winner!” Mrs. Rossi declared.

“This is why you’re my favorite sister,” Bella said, not seeming to understand the meaning of her words.

Sophia arched a you see eyebrow, but Gina couldn’t help noticing the giddy feeling spreading throughout her body, only to be doused by a wave of regret. This was all temporary. If things had been different, she might have belonged here for real, but Gina’s choices ten years ago had made that impossible.

What else could she have done? When they’d both planned to move to LA, Gina as a screenwriter and Sophia as an actor, their future together had made sense. But when it had been impressed upon Gina by a real Hollywood producer that she would never make it as a screenwriter—not that she’d ever shared that tidbit with anyone, including Sophia—everything had changed. Sophia had declared she would follow Gina anywhere, including to New York where Gina had a few connections via Dr. Harlowe in documentary films.

They might have been happy for a year or two. But the New York acting scene was all wrong for Sophia, and Gina had known it. Sophia was meant for the big screen. Cobbling together enough off-Broadway shows to afford living in an apartment the size of a bread box would have wasted her talent, making her grow resentful with each passing day. Gina couldn’t bear that. So she’d broken it off because somebody had to. Now Sophia was starring in exactly the types of movies she’d always loved, so surely, Gina had made the right decision.

Although, according to Sophia, it hadn’t lived up to the hype. Had Hollywood been that much better for her, after all?

No. Don’t do that to yourself.

Breaking up with Sophia, and not being able to tell her why, had been the hardest thing Gina had ever done. More than likely, she wouldn’t be able to do it again if it were happening today. Now that she was ten years older, Gina knew how rare love was—something to be cherished. And family, too. Gina had been nothing but a disappointment to her own parents, who disapproved of her lesbian “lifestyle choice,” because yes, that was what they thought it was. If she’d known then how much she was losing by letting Sophia go, she would’ve been more selfish about it.

“Okay. It’s time for another game. This one is called pass the water balloon.” Mrs. Rossi clapped her hands together while several guests looked around with obvious confusion.

“Water balloons?” Sophia stared at her mother like the woman had forgotten to take her meds. “It’s only April.”

“It’s warm,” Mrs. Rossi said, brushing off the complaint.

“Not warm enough for water balloons,” Sophia argued, though it was clear she wouldn’t win.

“How is this baby-related?” Gina whispered.

“It isn’t,” Sophia replied, but instead of looking baffled, she was staring daggers at her mother. “She’s up to something.”

“Everyone, partner up. You two, over here,” Mrs. Rossi insisted, nearly dragging Gina and Sophia from their chairs. “Okay. You have to pass off the water balloon to your neighbor without using your hands. Here, you two show them.” Instead of demonstrating herself, Mrs. Rossi tucked a water balloon under Sophia’s chin. “Now, pass it off to Gina.”

“How?” It came out garbled since Sophia didn’t want to move her lips too much.

“Be creative.” Mrs. Rossi’s eyes were filled with mischief. “It’s the whole point of the game.”

Realizing there would be no getting out of this until they at least gave it a try, Gina did the only thing she could think of, pressing her body against Sophia’s. It was the closest they’d been to one another since the surprise kiss attack Sophia had launched on set that first day, and this time there was less shock to dull Gina’s senses. Every detail of the moment was clear, like watching a movie on a high-definition screen.

Gina could smell the gardenia scent of Sophia’s shampoo, hear the hitch in her breath as their breasts came together with nothing but a few thin layers of fabric between them as heat built like a bonfire. If this game lasted much longer, Gina reckoned they’d be able to roast marshmallows between them. Maybe that was part of Mrs. Rossi’s plan. The woman was crazy about dessert.

Sophia widened her eyes at the contact, angling her chin to get the balloon to transfer, but it slipped, forcing Gina to reposition. Her face became practically buried in Sophia’s cleavage, which wasn’t helping Gina’s concentration.

“Don’t let it fall,” Mrs. Rossi tittered, clearly pleased with herself.

Gina and Sophia contorted this way and that, their body heat switching to boiling, as they tried to accomplish the goal of getting the balloon safely tucked under Gina’s chin.

Right when it seemed all was lost, they succeeded. Sophia pulled away, rolling her neck side to side, strained but beautiful.

“We should move onto the next game,” Sophia’s mother declared triumphantly, even though half the teams were still struggling to complete their task. “Who wants to play the memory game?”

Gina, the balloon still tucked under her chin, was more confused than she’d been all day. Considering how out of practice she was at large family gatherings, that was saying something.

Sophia plucked the balloon away, allowing Gina to stretch out her muscles. “My mother is as subtle as a marching band.”

Gina stood closer to whisper in Sophia’s ear, “What do you mean?”

“If I’m not mistaken,” Sophia kept an eye on her mother as she spoke, “that was one of those tests I told you to be on the lookout for.”

“You think she was trying to put us in a compromising situation to make us fall back in love with each other?”

“I wouldn’t put it past her,” Sophia confirmed. “If she thinks her little tricks are going to work, she has another thing coming.”

Gina nodded in agreement, but deep down she knew that balloon game had opened her eyes, among other parts of her, to an uncomfortable truth. Little tricks or not, falling back in love with Sophia Rossi was going to be impossible for Gina to avoid. For one simple reason. Gina had never stopped loving her in the first place.

CHAPTER EIGHT

On Monday morning, Sophia woke with a start and stared at the lace canopy above her bed as a knot the size and weight of a bowling ball formed in her stomach. Grabbing her phone from the nightstand, she scanned for new messages and found none. No news was supposed to be good news, but she struggled to shake her unease. With the seriousness of Butch’s injuries, would they really start filming today?

Mr. Dix had sworn on his mother’s grave that was the case. “The show must go on,” he’d declared. Only this wasn’t some little community theater production of Romeo and Juliet they were trying to pull off but a feature-length film for a major production company. They had already cancelled filming so very last minute more than once, each time swearing it would only be for a day. Until the next day. Mr. Dix’s assurances wore thin, and as far as Sophia was aware, Mr. Dix’s mother was still alive and well, so swearing on her grave was hardly convincing and shone a spotlight on his true character. She also knew if this film fell further behind schedule and started running over budget, there would be hell to pay.

Though the sun had barely begun to send pink tendrils into the dark sky, the set was awash in activity when Sophia arrived. She reported to the wardrobe trailer for her costume, followed by hair and makeup. No one in either department had seen Butch.

“The reporter is here for that Pride Festival interview,” Matt told Sophia as she exited the trailer. “She’s waiting for you near the gazebo.”

“Thanks.” Sophia pulled her red peacoat close against the lingering chill in the air. Once again it struck her how nice it was to be filming in early spring when the weather was cooler. Pretending to be cold on a blistering July day was harder than most people gave her credit for.

“Over here!” Sophia waved enthusiastically as she spotted Gina crossing the common with her three students trailing her like ducklings. “You didn’t have any trouble with security, did you?”

“No.” Gina offered a hesitant smile that left Sophia wondering what had brought on the sudden shyness. Perhaps it was the looming prospect of an interview on national morning television that had Gina tongue-tied, but Sophia couldn’t help thinking it had something to do with the baby shower over the weekend. Ever since the water balloon game, Gina hadn’t seemed able to make eye contact without blushing.

It was kinda cute.

“Mr. Dix is clamping down more than usual,” Sophia explained, feeling her own cheeks tingle over the memory of Gina’s chest pressed against hers. Thank goodness her makeup was caked so thick there was little chance of any color making it through to the surface. “News of Butch’s accident has paparazzi swarming to get photos, and that’s the last thing Mr. Dix wants.”

“Then why are we here for the television interview?” Megan asked—quite astutely, in Sophia’s opinion, since the same question had occurred to her, as well. A news crew, while better than a tabloid, was still a risk if they wanted to downplay the leading man’s injuries.

“The truth?” Sophia stage-whispered. “Because IBC wants more buzz and didn’t clear it with Mr. Dix. If you think he’s pissed about it, you have no idea.”

And scared. The way IBC had disregarded the producer, whispers were everywhere that Holden Dix was on his way out. What that would mean for the rest of them, especially if Butch had to be replaced, was anyone’s guess. But she’d been in the business long enough to know the worst-case scenarios, and they weren’t pretty. Dix had been such a fool, claiming all Butch needed was a handful of days for a complete recovery, putting everyone at risk. It was little wonder Sophia hadn’t managed much sleep.

Affixing a smile she hoped would convince everyone she hadn’t a care in the world, Sophia led Gina and the students to a group of director chairs that had been set up for the interview. Both the reporter and her cameraman were already in place.

“Ms. Rossi?” The young woman held out her hand, which Sophia shook. “I’m Missy Taylor from the local IBC affiliate in Springfield.”

“Please, call me Sophia. This is Gina Mitchells and—” Sophia stopped short, realizing Megan’s name was the only one she could remember from the email chain.

Without missing a beat, Gina stepped in to introduce the others, who each took their seats, leaving the two chairs closest to the reporter for Sophia and Gina to occupy.

A sudden look of concentration came over Missy’s face as she pressed a finger to her ear. “Showtime.”

The cameraman counted down as someone in The AM Show’s New York studio handed off the interview to Missy. “I’m here with Sophia Rossi, in her hometown of Sholan Falls. Sophia, what’s it like filming a Christmas movie where you grew up?”

“It’s a dream come true, Missy,” Sophia answered, slipping effortlessly into her public persona, a character she’d created who was similar to her real self, only without any of the awkwardness and crippling self-doubt that might otherwise plague her in front of a camera. “I’ve always thought my town was the perfect setting for a holiday movie, aside from the missing gazebo. But our production team has built a gorgeous one, and it’ll stay put long after we’re gone as our gift to the town.”

Giddiness bubbled up inside Sophia as she imagined the old ladies at the historical society fuming over that. Sometimes it was the little things that brightened the day.

“How special. It’s not the only way you’re helping the area, though, is it? For those of you at home, you may have noticed four beautiful wo—people,” Missy corrected with a quick glance at Megan. “We understand you’ve agreed to replace Lucas Brown as the grand marshal in Comstock College’s Pride Parade. I imagine it’s quite an honor to be grand marshal at your alma mater.” Missy’s voice went so high she’d probably have to fight off lascivious chipmunks on her way home.

“It really is.” Sophia glanced in Gina’s direction.

“I have a question for the planning committee.” Missy’s gaze swept Gina and the students. “Whose brilliant idea was it to ask Sophia Rossi to step in after that ugliness with Lucas Brown?”

“As you can imagine,” Gina broke in, presumably to give a pre-approved message before one of the students could mess up, “as soon as we learned of the unfortunate things Mr. Brown had said, we immediately moved to make things right. It was a group effort deciding on Sophia, but I think the credit goes to fate. Who would’ve expected the Queen of Christmas to be just a few miles down the road?”

“Were you concerned she would say no, given the unfortunate event immersing the former grand marshal into hot water?” Missy pressed, her voice sounding as dramatic as if Lucas Brown had been the President of the United States caught on a hot mic instead of a comedian knowingly dunking himself into the mess, triggering social media warriors to attack.

Before Gina could answer, Megan chimed in. “We were way more worried when we found out our professor had dumped Sophia and broken her heart when they were in college. If I remember correctly, our professor said Sophia promised to hate her forever.”

Looking like she’d been offered the world’s juiciest steak on a silver platter, Missy took less than a second to process Megan’s revelation before pouncing. “You two used to date?”

“Uh…” Sophia looked to Gina, who was doing her best to melt into her seat.

“Isn’t it a small world?” Megan asked, their sudden squirming indicating the question was an attempt to redirect the conversation from their inadvertent faux pas. “The important thing is⁠—”

“What caused the breakup?” Missy pressed, speaking over Megan.

“Gosh,” Gina rubbed the back of her head, seemingly at a loss for what to say next.

Sophia started to talk, although she wasn’t sure what she was going to say, and it seemed like a lifetime had passed since her mouth opened and nothing came out. Fortunately, she was spared the need to say anything when she got a gander of Butch approaching. She was instantly struck dumb. Her normally hunky costar was an utter mess.

Butch’s left arm was in a sling, a foam triangle underneath it, forcing the arm to be nearly shoulder high. The left side of his face had road rash, one particular stretch looking so bad Sophia thought it would be impossible for Jane, the makeup artist, to cover it up.

As Sophia’s jaw dropped, Missy swiveled around. The newscaster’s reaction was even more exaggerated, though this time, Sophia didn’t think the woman was putting on a show for the audience at home.

“What the—?” Megan uttered, their eyes wide. “Good God, he looks like Frankenstein’s monster.”

More like Dr. Jekyll—and Mr. Hyde, Sophia thought. He kind of resembled both at the same time, depending which side you were looking at.

Appearing to have forgotten Sophia, Gina, and the juicy gossip about their failed college relationship entirely, Missy motioned for the cameraman to follow her toward the battered leading man. Sophia stiffened, knowing Mr. Dix would lose it over this, but then she relaxed as she remembered that, unlike the story getting out about her college heartache, it wasn’t her problem. Let the PR people deal with their mess. You didn’t have to be Einstein to know things on this set wouldn’t go smoothly. Not for one second.

Gina turned to Sophia. “He’s not going to film like that, is he?”

“According to Mr. Dix, yes,” Sophia answered, though she could hardly believe it now that she saw the man for herself. What had their producer been thinking? “Dix said we’d have to accommodate by filming Butch from one side—but, look at him. There’s no way he can make it through a full film only showing one side.” Sophia’s face blanched.

“What about a scarf and oversized winter jacket?” Gina suggested, her expression making it clear she didn’t believe her suggestion would work. “He can carry a fake poinsettia with his good arm, to block the sling. You know, like they do when someone is pregnant.”

“He’s live on The AM Show trying to act like there was nothing unusual about his appearance, and even from here, I can tell he’s failing miserably.” Sophia’s heart sunk as she continued to watch it on the screen to the side, realizing what this meant. “There’s no way the executives in LA won’t hear about this.”

Gina looked aghast. “They don’t already know?”

“Everyone has been told to downplay it, or deny any knowledge. Hell, I didn’t even know it was this bad.” Sophia’s voice wobbled as she fought back tears. “Now that they know the full extent of his injuries, I fear the repercussions are going to be far worse.”

“They know we used to date, too,” Gina added warily. “I guess that violates your don’t do anything gay agreement, even if retroactively.”

“Yeah, you think?” Sophia’s stomach churned as all the bad news came crashing in at once. “Gina, I know this industry. IBC hasn’t been quiet about their plan to corner the holiday movie market, and they were thrilled to get a package deal with Dix, Butch, and me coming on board all at once. But nothing has gone right. Not one dang thing.”

“What do you think they’ll do?” Gina’s voice was low and tinged with worry as she glanced toward the news cameras. “Surely, they’ve invested too much money already to simply walk away.”

“The sunk costs are high but nothing compared to how much it might cost if they keep going with a poorly managed production. Remember what IBC did with their news streaming channel a few months ago? They spent millions to launch that, and they pulled the plug after a month.”

“You think they would do the same thing to your film?”

Sophia swallowed, her throat dry and scratchy. As much as she hated to give voice to her fears, she couldn’t lie to Gina. Not about this. “I don’t know for sure, but considering the shitty script, a producer who is deceiving them, and a male lead who needs to be replaced, if I were them, I sure as heck would consider cutting my losses right now and saving face.”

CHAPTER NINE

Gina got up from her kitchen table to pace her small apartment, counting each step as she went. Twenty-two steps to the teal sofa in the living room, another eight to the coatrack in the front hall. Thirty steps to make it back to the kitchen again. Despite working as diligently as she could for the past week, she still had another three papers left to grade before class the next day.

Wasting away the day was the last thing she had time for. But she couldn’t stop thinking about Sophia, and the disastrous interview that morning.

No doubt the reporter from the local IBC affiliate considered it a triumph. The footage of Butch trying to run away from the cameras had been trending on Twitter all day. As far as Gina knew, the production had not been shut down, at least not yet, though it wasn’t like she had any inside knowledge. But Sophia hadn’t passed along any updates, and surely, she would if something bad had happened. Wouldn’t she? Gina considered texting to see if there was any news, but feared it would stress Sophia out even more. Anxiety had always plagued her, and Gina didn’t want to pile on.

She paced a little faster, though the increased exercise wasn’t the only reason her heart started beating faster. The more time she’d spent with Sophia in the past week, the more confused and on edge Gina had become. As if Mrs. Rossi trying to get them together—literally—with the balloon game at the shower wasn’t enough, now Gina had to deal with the emotional fallout from the truth about their college breakup hitting the national news.

Sophia’s whole family must have seen it. Gina might have been spared their poor opinion before, thanks to Sophia’s omissions of the truth, but she wouldn’t be so lucky this time. Megan had as good as announced to the world what Gina had done. Of course, this new relationship of theirs wasn’t real, anyway, so it shouldn’t matter.

But it did.

Gina’s internal battle was interrupted by a knock at the door. Please don’t be a journalist wanting the scoop on Sophia. Gina had already turned down three requests for comment.

She peeked through the eyehole and started to laugh. Speak of the Devil.

“I can hear you.” Sophia grinned, making her already distorted image in the little circle look even more comical.

“Are you with TMZ?” Gina pretended to sound stern. “I’ve already said no comment.”

Gina couldn’t see Sophia’s eye roll, but it was palpable through the door.

“I brought Chinese, but now I’m considering eating it all myself.” Sophia turned as if to leave.

“Don’t you dare.” Not hesitating a second longer, Gina flung the door open. “I’m starving!”

“I knew you would be, at least if you’re anything like you used to be in college. You could sit in the same chair for twenty-four hours without moving until you finished whatever task you were working on.” Sophia entered the apartment with a massive brown bag in her arms. The delicious smell of all things Asian teased Gina’s nostrils and made her stomach gurgle in delight. “Where should I set this?”

“Is that from Wong’s?” Gina practically did what she dubbed the rom-com twirl, so great was her joy over the prospect of a piping hot plate of food.

“Of course, it is,” Sophia confirmed, sliding her shoulder bag off her arm and letting it rest beside the couch in the living room as she followed Gina to the kitchen. “They’re the best, even after all these years.”

“You can set the bag here.” Gina swept up the term papers she’d been grading, transferring them from the table to a countertop to make room for them to eat. “I’ll grab some plates and silverware.”

“Plates, silverware, and a real table? You’ve gotten fancy since college.” The gentle teasing in Sophia’s tone set off a reaction in parts of Gina’s body that had nothing to do with hunger. At least, not the kind of hunger food would address. Gina did her best to ignore it, focusing all her attention on carrying two heavy ceramic plates to the table without losing her grip.

“How were things on set after I left?” Gina asked, hoping for something to distract her from how beautiful Sophia looked with her hair swept up in a messy bun, wearing yoga pants and a hoodie.

“A total disaster.” Sophia fell into one of the two chairs at Gina’s tiny table, sighing. “Mr. Dix insisted we put in a full day, too.”

“Poor Butch.” Gina opened the bag and inhaled with satisfaction before starting to remove the containers. “Did he manage to make it through?”

“He’s really trying his best, but he’s on so many painkillers they’re having to feed him one line at a time.” Sophia reached for what turned out to be crispy orange beef, popping off the plastic lid before moving on to do the same with the next dish. From what Gina could tell, she’d ordered one of everything. “I don’t know if he can last another day. He belongs in the hospital or on bedrest at the very least.”

“Surely, they must at least be considering replacing him now,” Gina said, unable to hold back a smile as she heaped lo mein noodles onto her plate.

“From what I hear, Dix is scrambling to call in a favor from one of the other Keynote Channel actors he’s worked with before, but I’m not sure it will matter. Rumor has it the top brass of IBC is coming out to assess the situation.” Sophia made quote marks before using her fork to scoop some sesame chicken onto her plate.

Gina plucked an egg roll from a white, greasy bag. “Is there duck sauce?”

“Have I ever forgotten?” Sophia rummaged in the pile of condiments, tossing two packets across the table. Apparently, she also hadn’t forgotten that Gina always splurged when it came to sauce.

After taking a bite, Sophia let out a satisfied moan. “It’s been so long since I’ve had Wong’s. Hands down the best Chinese on the planet.”

Gina, with a mouthful of egg roll, could only nod in agreement.

“Do you get it a lot?” Sophia asked. It was an innocent enough question, but it brought the truth of their situation slamming back full force.

“Not too often.” Translation: never. In all the years since Gina had returned to Comstock, she hadn’t ever ordered Wong’s for delivery even once. The food, like Sholan Falls, brought back too many memories.

“You have better willpower than I do.” Sophia dipped a steamed dumpling into Wong’s special soy and ginger sauce, seemingly oblivious to the war of emotions playing out in Gina’s heart over something as simple as a meal.

Gina may have had willpower at one point in her life, but ever since Sophia had swanned back into the picture, Gina couldn’t stop thinking about her ex. No matter how well intentioned she’d been, breaking up with Sophia had been the single most—oh, shit!

“Uh… did your mom see the interview?” Gina stared down at her pork fried rice, her appetite evaporating.

Sophia paused a beat. “Yes.”

“She must hate me.”

“Why?”

“Because now she knows I was the one who broke up with you.”

“Oh, that.” Sophia took a bite, chewing slowly, each deliberate movement of her jaw seeming to hammer another nail into their fake-relationship coffin. “Funny about that.”

“Funny?” Gina had a feeling that was not the correct word.

Without looking up from her plate, Sophia said, “According to my mother, I must have done something terrible for you to dump me, because in her words, you were head over heels in love with me.”

“I was.” Gina refrained from clasping a hand over her mouth at this admission, not that it would’ve helped. The words had popped out, and there would be no putting them back in. Part of her didn’t want to. The pain of why she did it clawed at her throat.

Sophia leveled her eyes at Gina, like she was searching for something—an answer, maybe? But she didn’t speak, and Gina was hardly surprised. What could be said to follow that?

Finally, Sophia let out a half laugh, half snort. “Typical of my mom, though, blaming me.”

“I can explain it to her if you want me to.”

“Can you?” Sophia arched an eyebrow, the action having its usual effect. The question was, did Sophia do it for the old reason or out of habit?

“If it’ll help,” Gina mumbled, squeezing her legs together. Now was about the worst possible time to let on how turned on she was, all things considered.

“Not to my mom,” Sophia said softly. “To me.”

“What do you mean?” Gina was trying to buy herself a little time, but she knew exactly what Sophia wanted to hear.

“From what I remember, you wanted to go to LA as much as I did. Ever since we met our sophomore year, all you ever talked about was becoming a screenwriter. Then, right before graduation, you suddenly wanted to make documentaries instead.”

“What’s wrong with documentaries?” Gina leaned into her defensiveness, using it as a shield against all the painful places this conversation threatened to go.

“Nothing,” Sophia insisted, her eyes glistening. “Nothing at all. What I didn’t understand, and I still don’t, was why you decided to move to New York City instead of LA, and why you did it alone. What happened, Gin?”

Gina’s heart lurched. She’d forgotten how much she loved it when Sophia called her that. “I⁠—”

“You were a brilliant screenwriter,” Sophia pressed, emotion surging in her tone.

“No, I wasn’t.” Gina indulged in a low, bitter laugh. “Far from it.”

“That’s simply not true,” Sophia argued. “I can understand if you got scared and started to doubt yourself, but why didn’t you talk to me?”

“That wasn’t it.” Gina prayed her tone made it clear the conversation was over.

How could she explain to Sophia all these years later what had happened in the meeting with Alex Cross, a Keystone Channel producer? After all, he was the same one who had found Sophia so brilliant that her future career success had been nearly guaranteed. Yet he’d made it abundantly clear to Gina her type of stories would never sell.

So she’d given up. It had been the smart move, taking Professor Harlowe up on his offer to help break into the documentary film industry. But there’d been no way Gina could allow Sophia to throw away her chance in Hollywood by moving to New York instead.

It had been the right decision. But if that was true, why did it suddenly feel so cowardly and wrong?

“Do you still write?” Sophia asked, her voice low and subdued.

“Not in years, unless you count lectures.” Gina tried laughing to lift the mood. It was less than successful. Tiring of the formality of sitting at a table, Gina grabbed one of the paper takeout containers and a pair of chopsticks and headed for the couch.

Sophia followed, looking grateful for the change. “What ever happened to that script you were working on senior year?”

“Christmas at Rainbow Falls? Oh gawd.” Gina snorted. “I haven’t thought of that in years.”

Sophia settled on the couch next to Gina, not so close they were touching, but not very far, either. A single throw pillow filled the space between them, like a safety barrier. Sophia tucked her legs up under her, looking like not a day had passed since college. “Do you still have it?”

“I think so, maybe.” Gina shrugged, even though she was almost certain she knew exactly where that old screenplay was, hiding in a desk drawer with all the others she hadn’t been able to bring herself to get rid of.

“Can I see it?” Sophia’s eyes twinkled as at least some of her good mood returned.

Gina shook her head, her curls flying. “It’s atrocious. I basically wrote it on a dare, just to prove I could.”

“I remember. I’m the one who dared you.” Sophia’s lips twitched, a tiny dimple forming at the very edge of her mouth that melted Gina instantly. It was a dimple that could only be coaxed to appear in limited circumstances when Sophia was being particularly beguiling. Gina had nearly forgotten it existed.

“I don’t know,” Gina said, knowing she would give in eventually. Now that Sophia’s dimple had reappeared, she would do anything to keep it from fading. Even reopen decade-old wounds.

“Humor me,” Sophia pleaded. “I’m having a dreadful week.”

“Oh, you still have the guilt trip down.”

“Do I? Because you aren’t giving in yet.” Sophia batted her lashes.

“You’re not playing fair.” Gina uncrossed her legs and recrossed them.

“I have had a bad week, and I may be fired tomorrow, so any distraction would be welcome.”

“Why don’t we watch your favorite movie?” Gina offered.

“Which is?” Sophia sucked in her cheeks, fixing Gina with a look that said she would bet a million dollars her ex wouldn’t get the answer right.

“Elf, of course,” Gina answered triumphantly as Sophia pummeled her with the throw pillow. It bounced harmlessly to the floor. “Which should have been a sign. Clearly, you were always meant to star in Christmas movies.”

“It’s April!” Sophia argued, shifting her legs so that they inched closer to Gina’s. Her eyes darted to the pillow on the floor as if belatedly realizing it was gone.

“So?” Gina kept her eyes fixed on Sophia’s face, refusing to stare at the less than half an inch of empty space that separated them. “You’re filming a holiday flick. It’ll help you stay in character.”

“I was filming.” A trace of dejectedness crept back into Sophia’s tone. “Who knows what tomorrow will bring?”

“They haven’t closed you down yet, so no past tense.” When Sophia failed to perk back up after a few seconds, Gina added, “Tell you what. I’ll agree to let you take that old screenplay of mine to read. But you have to promise me one thing.”

Interest kindled in Sophia’s eyes. “What’s that?”

“Burn it once you’ve finished.” Gina rose from the couch and crossed to her desk, fishing the printed manuscript from the drawer, right where she’d known it would be.

She dropped it into Sophia’s lap, flopping back onto the couch. Somehow, though she hadn’t intended for it to happen, that tiny space that had existed between their bodies was gone. Instead of pulling away, Sophia slipped the screenplay into her shoulder bag before reaching for a blanket. She spread it across them both to share, as they’d done so many times in the past.

“Thank you.” Sophia slipped further under the blanket, heat from her body seeping beneath Gina’s skin like a furnace set on high.

“I’m serious about that script.” Gina pointed the remote at the TV and turned it on, scrolling to find the movie in her streaming options. “It isn’t fit for anyone else’s eyes but yours.”

CHAPTER TEN

Sophia floated on a cloud in the darkness, every inch of her body existing in a perfect state of relaxation. She breathed in slowly, the scent of spicy musk bringing a wave of comfort to her being, like coming home after a lifetime away.

As consciousness chased away the cobwebs in her brain, Sophia stiffened without moving, her eyes flying open. The unfamiliar room surrounding her was filled with gray shadows, illuminated by just enough light to indicate the sun was thinking about coming up but hadn’t yet committed. As for that perfect pillow she’d been resting her head on, it was not a pillow at all. It was Gina.

Sophia barely dared to breathe as she assessed the situation. They were in Gina’s apartment. That much she remembered. From what she could tell, they’d fallen asleep on the couch while watching Elf the night before. When exactly that had happened was a mystery, but since even the television screensaver had gone black, several hours must have passed. The blanket Sophia had draped over them remained in place, and she could feel the heat of Gina’s fingers pressed into her shoulder, cradling her close like a beloved teddy bear.

Every memory came flooding back of all the times she’d woken like this before, safe in Gina’s arms. How often had she dreamed herself here over the years, only to find herself alone in an empty bed? But this seemed real, if only for the moment. Sophia didn’t want to leave, or move, or even breathe.

It has to be past five, nagged the rational voice in her head, the one responsible for getting her punctually to work.

She was expected on set at six. Fortunately, though it was a twenty-minute drive from Gina’s place back to Sholan Falls, Sophia didn’t need to change or do her hair or makeup. It was a come as you are type of arrangement on filming days. All she had to do was roll out of bed and go. Or roll off the couch, as the case might be.

Holding her breath, Sophia allowed herself one last moment to soak in Gina’s nearness. The woman slept soundly, not seeming to notice as Sophia stirred. So peaceful. It was a beautiful sight, Gina’s hair like a dark cloud around her head, a sweet half smile on her lips. Sophia stared at them as she inched away, wondering if she dared leave a kiss on them as she once would’ve done.

Better not, said that stupid, rational voice again. Sophia was baffled. Actors were hardly known, as a whole, for being a levelheaded bunch. Where had it come from, and why was it so insistent on being obeyed?

With a sigh, Sophia gathered up the empty takeout containers and chopsticks from the ottoman and whisked them to the kitchen. Tidying up was a very distant second to kissing on her list of ways to show affection, but it would have to do. Fortunately, the rest of the leftovers had made it into the refrigerator sometime the night before, so there was little else to do but run a cleaning wipe over the table and counter before heading out.

As Sophia gently closed the front door behind her, Gina continued to sleep.

When Sophia made her way to the wardrobe trailer a few minutes before six, the town common was eerily quiet. She climbed the steps to the trailer door, but when she turned the knob, she found it locked. She surveyed the set uneasily. Had she missed something? She’d been in such a rush to get here on time from Gina’s she hadn’t checked for messages. As she reached for her phone, she spotted Matt coming toward her.

“There’s the woman I’m looking for,” Matt called up from the base of the trailer steps.

“What’s going on?” Sophia tried to ignore the rush of adrenaline that made her fingers tingle. “Did I miss something? This place looks like a ghost town.”

“There’s been a change of plans. Filming is suspended today, but you’re wanted for a meeting.”

“Right now?” Sophia gripped her shoulder bag for support.

Matt shook his head. “Not until ten, in a private meeting room at O’Malley’s. I guess they tried calling you last night, but you didn’t pick up, and they didn’t want to leave a message.”

“They?” Sophia cringed as she realized she’d put her ringer on silent while she was at Gina’s, not that she would’ve answered anyway, unless she recognized the number.

“Someone from IBC Entertainment in LA,” Matt said with a whoop-de-do finger waggle. “Not sure who. Way above my pay grade. I was just asked to come over here at six, find you, and give you the message.”

IBC Entertainment? That could mean only one thing. The suits were on their way. Sophia thanked the few lucky stars she might still have hanging out in the sky above her that she’d at least have time to go back to the inn and change. The only thing worse than a bunch of network executives canceling her contract and dashing her dreams for the future was for them to do it while she was still dressed like she was doing a walk of shame.

Sophia’s head spun as she contemplated the possible reasons for this last-minute meeting. Only one made sense. “This is it, isn’t it? They’re shutting us down.”

Matt didn’t respond, but it was obvious looking at his face that he held the same opinion.

Sophia went back to the inn for a shower and reemerged a little before ten, dressed like a star, as she entered the Irish pub that was Sholan Fall’s one restaurant that had private rooms available for meetings and parties. It was much too early for the restaurant to be open to diners, and when she walked through the doors, the owner stood alone at the front, sending her in the correct direction with a nod.

As Sophia approached the sliding doors that separated the small banquet room from the rest of the pub, dread sloshed deep in her belly. At a long table that could accommodate twelve sat a man she had never met in person but recognized instantly from photos in the LA papers. Ken Abrams, head of entertainment for IBC. Next to him sat a statuesque middle-aged woman whose dark brown hair was pulled back into a knot at the nape of her neck. She, too, looked familiar, but Sophia couldn’t put a name to the face.

They were the only two in the room, looking so polished and professional Sophia was once again grateful she’d had a chance to change. Her wide legged trousers and sweater twin set gave her the confidence to enter the room that yoga pants and a hoodie could never replicate.

“Am I early?” Sophia asked through pursed lips, certain she was right on time. “Where’s Mr. Dix?”

“Sophia!” Ken got to his feet, his arms wide for an embrace, but then he realized a table blocked him from an actual hug, much to Sophia’s relief. He was probably the type to kiss both cheeks, which made Sophia beyond nervous, despite her Italian family. She always got confused and feared one day she would kiss a stranger smack dab on the lips.

“Mr. Abrams, this is an honor.” Sophia was thrilled that she sounded truly honored instead of petrified.

“The honor is all mine.” He retook his seat, and it did not escape Sophia’s attention that he still had not answered her question regarding the producer’s glaring absence. “Let me introduce Jill Davidson⁠—”

Sophia experienced a Eureka moment and blurted, “Oh, wow, of course!”

“You know Jill?” Ken knitted his brow, though it was hard to tell if he was perplexed or impressed by this revelation.

“Jill Davidson, Head of Sapphicsticated, Inc.? You bet.” Sophia said it so fast she had to stop to catch her breath. “I’m a huge admirer. Ms. Davidson.”

“Well, that’s really sweet,” Jill replied, a faint blush on her cheeks. “And quite unexpected.”

Sophia turned to Ken, unable to stop herself from adding, “Did you know she started as an associate producer at Grant Studios before becoming one of the founding members of the largest production company in the United States dedicated to positive lesbian content?”

“It’s not often I have my resume recited to me.” Jill laughed at her own joke, but she couldn’t hide the fact Sophia had obviously scored some points, even though that hadn’t been her intention.

“You’re probably wondering why we’re here,” Ken began, before pausing to point to the carafe and mugs in the center of the table. “Do you want some coffee? Come take a seat.”

“Yes to the coffee,” Sophia said, approaching the table and pouring herself a cup. She settled into one of the chairs across from him and Jill. “As for why you’re here, I don’t know, but I think I can guess. Butch?”

“I won’t lie. The Butch situation is a total disaster. We watched the dailies, and I can’t imagine what Holden thought he was doing.” Ken tapped a finger on the table cloth. “He’s gone, by the way. And Butch.”

I’m next. Sophia swallowed, praying her thoughts didn’t show on her face. “Gone, as in replaced? Or…” Did they cancel both of their multi-deal contracts?

“That remains to be seen.” Ken twisted his head to look at Jill. “That’s why we’ve brought Jill in, to see what can be salvaged, and why I wanted to see you, as one of the producers we haven’t fired.”

Did the word yet hang over Sophia’s head? Wanting to push this fear out of the way, Sophia focused on Jill. “I didn’t realize you worked with IBC,” Sophia said, trying to work out why Jill, of all people, was there.

“I didn’t until this week,” Jill responded. “The official announcement is yet to be made, but as of yesterday, IBC has acquired a controlling interest in Sapphicsticated.”

“Jill has been promoted to an executive position within IBC Entertainment,” Ken added.

“But that’s…” Sophia grinned. “That’s amazing. Are you here to take over the film?”

“Not the day to day, but as executive producer, maybe,” Jill said.

“If there’s a film to take over,” Ken added, sending Sophia’s spirits plummeting.

“Oh.” Sophia clutched her coffee mug to steady her nerves. “What can I do to help?”

Jill let out a breath. “I’ve only glanced at the script, but I’m not going to sugarcoat this. It’s fucking crap.”

Sophia found herself nodding. It was. No need to argue.

“Can we fix it, though?” Ken stroked his chin.

“The script—no way.” Jill looked like she might gag. “I don’t know why Dix green lit such a ghastly story.”

“And, we all know Butch should be in traction, not on a movie set,” Ken tossed in, just to bring Sophia’s hopes a little lower. “Too bad because he’s perfect for these movies.”

“The way I see it, we have two things going for us. Sophia”—Jill motioned to her as she said this, making it clear that the actor herself was number one on the list of assets—“and the town itself, which is absolutely Christmas magic. Even so, we’d be starting almost from square one with the need to assign a new producer and write an entirely new script, not to mention we’re down by one male lead.”

“IBC has already invested a million in this project,” Ken said, not making it clear whether this was an argument for or against shutting down the project.

“There’s nothing you can do about the sunk costs, but there’s also no point throwing good money after bad.” There was no question where Jill seemed to stand on the issue. Sophia’s hopes for her first big production and a future with IBC dimmed by the second.

“Do we have a backup script?” Ken demanded, wringing his hands until the knuckles turned white.

Tears stinging her eyes, Sophia glanced down to avoid the executives catching her on the verge of crying. Her gaze landed on her shoulder bag, and as she remembered what was inside, her pulse ticked faster.

Sophia dipped a hand into her bag but hesitated. Gina had said no one could read it but Sophia.

Jill shook her head. “This is IBC’s first Christmas movie. There may be one or two in the pipeline but nowhere near the same ballpark as the channels that churn out these movies.”

“How quickly could our writers bash one out?”

“Not fast enough,” Jill replied.

Ken let out a huff of air. “I don’t know what to do then, except to close down⁠—”

“Wait!” The threat of the ax coming down for good was enough to spur Sophia into action. She whipped out Gina’s script, vowing to think about the consequences later. Right now, she had a movie to save. “I have this.”

“What is it?” Jill asked. Both she and Ken peered over the table as Jill read the title. “Christmas in Rainbow Falls. Did you write it?”

“Me? No.” Sophia laughed nervously. “A professor at Comstock College, Gina Mitchells, wrote it. She’s a documentary filmmaker, but also a brilliant screenwriter. She wrote it to be set right here in Sholan Falls, so the set could be used exactly as it is. I’m betting most of the actors could simply be recast into similar roles in the new script, costumes would stay the same. It could be up and running before you know it.”

“Except, we’ll need at least a week to rehearse the new script,” Jill argued. “Best case, we’re two weeks behind schedule, leaving what, four weeks to shoot an entire movie?”

As the woman started to laugh at the ridiculousness of such a task, Sophia felt compelled to say, “I can tell you from experience you only need three weeks to film one of these movies.”

“Three?” Ken stroked his chin.

“Fifteen days of filming. Trust me. They don’t call me the Queen of Christmas for nothing.” Sophia held her breath, expecting to be laughed out of the room. Instead, both executives continued to flip through the script, clearly willing to give Sophia’s Hail Mary at least a moment of consideration.

“Rainbow Falls,” Ken said the words slowly as if trying to decipher the meaning, or maybe hoping for his own miracle that it wasn’t as gay as it sounded.

Sophia had some bad news for him if that was the case.

“It’s a sapphic rom-com,” she confirmed. “But it’s not the typical story you see on TV with two female leads. Neither of them dies, for one thing. There’s no great angst about coming out to family. It’s your ordinary Christmas story⁠—”

“But with two female leads?” Ken pressed.

“Yes, but, maybe one could be changed.” Sophia wanted to throw herself off a cliff for suggesting it, knowing Gina would kill her. But if a compromise was what was needed to save the production…

“Don’t you dare change it,” Jill interjected, looking giddy. “That is exactly the type of programming IBC was looking for in partnering with my company.”

“You might be right.” A smile spread across Ken’s face as the possibilities sank in. “That’s how we’ll differentiate ourselves from the other channels. But what if the script’s a dud?”

“If you’ll pardon me for saying it,” Sophia broke in, “almost anything would be heads above the one you were already planning to produce with Dix.”

“And this one would have no dicks, which is already an improvement as far as I’m concerned,” Jill said dryly. She pressed her lips together thoughtfully. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll take this script and give it a look over the next few days. If I think I can make it work, I’ll green light it.”

Sophia had to hold onto her seat to keep from jumping up and cheering. The production was possibly saved, and along with it, her future at IBC. She couldn’t wait to tell Gina the good news. After all these years, Gina’s dream of seeing one of her sapphic rom-coms make it to the screen might be coming true.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Gina stretched her neck, tilting her head from one side to another as a yawn escaped. There wasn’t enough coffee in the universe. It had been a rough night, plagued by dreams she hadn’t had in years. Not bad dreams—quite the opposite, filled with happy images of her and Sophia together—but painful, all the same. Waking up to find herself alone hadn’t helped. She wasn’t sure when Sophia had left. Gina only knew that by the time she’d raised herself up from the couch, stiff and exhausted, Sophia had slipped out without saying a word.

And Gina had been running late. No matter, though. She’d made up for it by working nonstop from the moment she set foot in the office. It was possible working twice as hard as usual would wipe all trace of the previous night’s dreams from her mind. She hadn’t been this productive in forever.

Rolling backward in her chair, Gina admired her clean desk. She hadn’t seen the grains in the wood for weeks. For someone always enmeshed in chaos, Gina preferred everything to be orderly. Late at night, when she couldn’t sleep, she dreamed of all the ways she’d organize everything in her life. Starting at home, she pictured shelves for all her canned goods. Cubbies for all of her paperwork. Her wardrobe hanging up in the closet, sorted by colors.

Everything would have a place, and she’d never feel overwhelmed by bedlam.

In reality, her cupboards were a nightmare, with bags of black beans piled on top of soup cans and boxes of pasta in at least three separate locations. Every letter, notebook, exam, and scrap of paper that had ever entered her orbit were stuffed in drawers or piled wherever. The closest her clothes came to being organized were in three piles. Clean. Decent. Dirty.

But in this moment, Gina was reveling in a major accomplishment. She’d finished grading exams. All of them. They’d even been handed back to the students. The end of the semester was in sight. Her next big project was to finish the promo piece on Professor Harlowe’s documentary.

Er… their documentary. Gina was an equal partner in the project, though sometimes it was hard to see it that way because she struggled most days to view herself as a proper adult and not one pretending like she had her shit together. If her mentor had a hard time remembering sometimes that Gina was no longer his teaching assistant, but a fellow faculty member on mostly equal footing, he wasn’t the only one to blame. Gina forgot sometimes, too.

“Got a second?” As if conjured by thoughts about him, the department head spoke from the doorway, clutching a stack of papers to his chest. He wore a three-piece suit with a bow tie, giving Gina the impression he was headed somewhere special.

“Of course.” Gina leaned back in her chair, threading her fingers behind her head.

“You look relaxed.”

“I finished all my grading,” Gina explained, indulging in a final stretch before sitting upright. “I love that feeling.”

“That’s exactly why I came to you,” the professor said, suddenly sounding breathless. “I have to head out of town for a follow-up interview⁠—”

“For the documentary?” Gina’s eyes narrowed slightly as she considered the man’s attire for a second time. Didn’t he always wear all black when he went into the field?

“Yes. That scene that’s been troubling me for the promo piece for investors—you know the one. Well, I figured out what’s wrong. I didn’t ask the right follow-up question, so I’m going to do that.”

Gina’s shoulders tensed. “That scene has been finalized. You told me two weeks ago to go ahead and work with what we had.”

“I know, but…” Evan Harlowe hitched a shoulder helplessly, as if he weren’t the one calling the shots, which he most certainly was. “Since I have to do that, I was hoping you could grade these exams for me.” He proceeded to dump a stack of papers onto Gina’s recently cleared desk. “Gotta run!”

No sooner had he delivered the news than the professor was out the door. Gina didn’t even have time to say she couldn’t grade the papers because she had to finish the promo piece, which apparently was still very much a work in progress despite having ostensibly finalized what would go in the portion for Pride. Leave it to Evan, who by the way, continually pestered Gina about getting the thing done.

Gina rubbed her temples as she surveyed the stack of term papers. Every single time she started to get ahead, something dragged her back. Whether it was work, or finally putting her anguish over Sophia in the past, the universe seemed hellbent on undermining all her hard work.

Her stomach churned, and the start of a migraine pounded behind her left eye as the anxiety she’d managed to hold at bay with her office purge came spilling over the edge of her too-short dam. Gina balled her fists, barely refraining from smacking them against the surface of her once-empty desk.

Someone tapped on the door.

Ah, geezus. What new task had Harlowe forgotten to dump on her now and sent someone to deliver the news? Gina nearly blew her stack, and it was all she could do not to scream Fuck off! Everyone should die and leave me alone. Right now.

“Yes,” she growled through gritted teeth instead.

But a moment later, it was Sophia whose head came into view. Despite being the source of so much inner turmoil, this woman was also possibly the only person on the planet who could calm Gina when she was in her everyone should die and leave me alone mood. The pang of guilt was instant.

“What’s wrong?” Instead of being scared away by Gina’s greeting, Sophia sank onto the lip of the desk.

“It’s just—it’s nothing.”

“No. It’s not nothing.” Sophia placed a hand on Gina’s shoulder, massaging.

Gina closed her eyes, sinking into that feeling. Couldn’t they stay exactly like this forever? No future or past to worry about, just closeness and peace.

Gina sighed before she let her frustrations come spilling out. “Harlowe just dumped these exams for me to grade so he could dash out of town to redo an interview that’s already gone through post-production, which took me about a week.”

Sophia’s jaw clenched. “I see Evan Harlowe hasn’t changed one bit.”

“What does that mean?” Gina pulled back from Sophia’s touch, snapping before she could stop herself. For someone who was normally as sweet as a cartoon princess, Sophia’s tone had a noticeable lack of warmth when she spoke of Gina’s mentor. Belatedly, Gina recalled Sophia had taken classes from the man in college and hadn’t seemed too fond of him even then. Sure, the man loved to name drop and such, but hadn’t he earned the right given his success and being such a champion for marginalized communities?

“When you were his teacher’s assistant back in college, he was always putting you in bad spots. Doing all the grading. The slicing and dicing in the editing room. Hell, he even had you bring him coffee in the morning and pick up his dry cleaning.”

“He paid me for that extra work,” Gina defended, even though she knew she had never once asked her own GAs to do anything remotely similar. Nor would she ever cross that line.

“Peanuts,” Sophia argued. Whether she meant it to or not, Sophia’s derisiveness immediately put Gina on the offensive, as if she was the one to blame for her professor’s lack of boundaries.

“It helped me make ends meet,” Gina argued, heat building inside her like a pressure cooker. “Besides, if it wasn’t for Harlowe, I wouldn’t have gotten this far. He’s the one who set me up for the internship in New York when my dream fell apart.”

“What are you talking about? Your dream didn’t fall apart,” Sophia scoffed, giving a soft snort as if the words didn’t compute. “You changed your dream. Though it wouldn’t surprise me if that man had a hand in that.”

“Is that what you think?” All at once, every ounce of frustration and anger that had been building within her burst, and Gina was powerless to hold anything back. “That’s really rich, considering it was your former employer that was to blame for pulverizing my vision of the future.”

“What?” Sophia stared blankly, her face the picture of a wounded animal. “Because they hired me?”

“No.” Gina waved a hand to dismiss this idea, though not with nearly the amount of compassion she might’ve shown under other circumstances. “Don’t you remember when Alex Cross from Keynote came to campus during the career fair?”

“Yes, of course, I remember.” It was clear Sophia wasn’t seeing any connection to what happened a short time after, when Gina gave up her screenwriting dreams for good. How had Sophia never guessed? Bitterness settled over Gina like a damp wool blanket. Sophia was supposed to have known Gina better than anyone, but the woman never picked up on that?

“Cross,” Gina said, nearly spitting as she said the cursed name aloud, “made it clear that a Black lesbian wanting to write rom-coms would never get anywhere in a mostly straight, white world.”

Sophia sucked in her breath, her expression morphing to one of pure pain, as if Gina had dealt her a physical blow. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you were on cloud nine.” Gina’s eyes burned with tears as it all came rushing over her, drowning her. “Because you’d been told you were perfect Keynote material, and they wanted you in LA the day after graduation.”

“But—I wouldn’t have taken a job with them if I’d known that!”

“I know!” Gina heard herself shout, but it didn’t register that the sound had come from her. Now that it had been set free, she was too far gone with long buried emotions to do anything to stop the flood of foulness seeping from every pore. “It’s why I didn’t tell you. Loyalty was always one of your strongest attributes, even when it would be your undoing. I couldn’t have that on my conscience”

“That’s why you dumped me, isn’t it?” Sophia sprang off the desk, pacing Gina’s small office. “You thought you were saving me.”

“I didn’t want to get in your way.”

“You were never in my way, Gina Mitchells,” Sophia seethed, her eyes flashing warning. “But by keeping that from me… I don’t even know what to say.”

“You can’t be too surprised.” Gina’s words came out way harsher than she’d intended, not that it mattered at this point. If there was any damage left to do, she might as well get it done. “You might think IBC is more open-minded, but they’ve still given you that don’t be overly gay clause. And you didn’t even fight it. But sure, lecture me about my boss.”

“Not anymore, damn it.” Sophia stomped her foot, looking like she wished Gina’s head had been beneath it. “That’s what I came by to tell you. I have the best news.”

“You’re allowed to be bisexual?” Gina guessed.

Sophia’s eyes narrowed. “Stop being such a jerk, or I’ll leave without telling you.”

“Fine.” Gina crossed her arms but refrained from digging her hole any deeper. For now. “What did you come here to say?”

“Keynote didn’t realize how gifted you are, but I always knew.” Despite the tension between them, some of the worry seemed to ease from Sophia’s brow. “And IBC can spot the Real McCoy.”

The pressure behind Gina’s eye had doubled, her head throbbing all over as she tried and failed to figure out what the fuck Sophia was trying to say. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“It’s like you said. Your dream of writing rom-coms with people like you in them.” As Sophia grew more animated, her pitch went higher, sending a shard of pain into Gina’s brain.

“People like me?”

“I’m not saying this right.” Sophia waved her hands in frustration, though it seemed mostly directed at herself. “I’m not trying to be an asshole, really. It’s just, what you said… it’s a lot to take in. But, we can talk about that later. What I came to tell you now is there’s a good chance IBC will want to option your script.”

“What script?”

“Christmas at Rainbow Falls.” Sophia studied her with an expectant gaze, clearly waiting on a reaction.

All Gina could see was a glowing red somewhere behind her retinas. “You pitched my story to IBC?” she whispered.

“Actually, I…” For the first time, Sophia showed hesitance. “I… um… gave them your script.”

Gina’s breaths came quick and shallow. “The script I said to burn after reading?”

“It’s too good to b—” Sophia began, but Gina couldn’t listen to another syllable. Fear, anger, and pain jockeyed for first position within her burning chest.

Gina squeezed her eyes shut. “Remember earlier when I said loyalty was one of your best traits? I was wrong.”

“Gina—”

“I trusted you,” Gina lashed out, barely coherent as her head—and the whole world—seemed to spin out of control.

“Gina!” Sophia pleaded as Gina hovered on the edge of hyperventilating.

“I explicitly said to burn it. Not to show anyone. I wrote it ten years ago. Now you’re standing in my office, proud of yourself. I’ll be completely humiliated. Oh—” It hit her in a flash what this had to be. What other explanation was there? “This is my payback for breaking your heart. Have you been planning this since graduation?”

“Planning what?” Sophia’s tone was chilly.

“To make me suffer even more than I already have. Breaking up with you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I could barely get the words out, but I knew it was best for you.”

“Oh, don’t even try that.” Sophia spat out.

Even Gina, through the haze of paranoid anger that had engulfed her, could tell that sounded like crazy talk. Too late to fix it, Gina feared she’d gone too far.

“You broke up with me because you were too proud to tell me the truth. You didn’t do it for me. You did it for yourself.”

“Sophia, that’s⁠—”

“If you really think I’ve put all these balls into play simply to crush your screenwriting dream—what the fuck is wrong with you?” Tears streamed down Sophia’s cheeks, and she made no move to wipe them away. “I came here today with what I thought was good news, and all you can see is some nefarious conspiracy!”

Before Gina could break out of the paralysis that had overtaken her, Sophia had turned on one heel and marched from her office.

“I wish you’d never come back into my life!” Gina screamed before collapsing into tears on her desktop as the pile of ungraded term papers flew to the floor.

CHAPTER TWELVE

In the spacious, sun-filled lounge of the health spa where she was spending the afternoon, Sophia collapsed onto a towel-draped chaise, her mother on one side of her and little sister Carrie on the other. Sophia plucked at her thick terry robe, pulling it from each side toward the middle to better cover her bare legs and the bathing suit that was still damp from the hot tub.

“Isn’t this the life?” Her mom sipped water infused with fruit slices. “I’ve never had a spa day with all of my girls before.”

Sophia opened her mouth to offer a perfunctory you’re welcome, since the outing was her treat, but before she could say anything, Carrie jumped in to add, “That’s because one of us is never home to participate in girls’ day out.”

“Hey,” Sophia said but didn’t follow it up with anything more substantial.

The truth was, she didn’t have the energy to fight, not even with her sister, which was a rarity. But dragging herself through the past forty-eight hours of uncertainty had been hell on two fronts, and all because of one script.

Gina wasn’t speaking to Sophia after the blowout—not a single text. And instead of coming back with an offer right away like Sophia had hoped, Jill had gone radio silent. All of which was why launching into an argument about the five million reasons it was impossible for her to fly all the way across the country for monthly spa days threatened to do Sophia in once and for all.

“You’ve barely said a peep since we got here.” As if sensing her mood, her mom pressed, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Sophia protested, though only half-heartedly. “It’s not easy talking in the steam room, and don’t get me started on the Himalayan salt room. I’ll be tasting it until I die.” Sophia pretended hacking up salt wedged deep in her throat.

“Not buying it.” Her mom crossed her arms. “Something else is going on.”

“I don’t buy it, either.” Carrie nudged Sophia’s leg with a bare foot. “No one was in the steam room with us. Mom and I talked the whole time.”

No kidding. Frankly, Sophia was surprised they’d noticed her silence.

“Come on,” her mom urged. “I never get to hear about your life. You owe me.”

“Did I get that trait from you?” Sophia asked, amazed at how her mom could somehow weaponize showing support.

“Being quiet?” her mom guessed.

“No.” Sophia choked back a laugh. “Not that. I was talking about guilt trips.”

“I don’t do that,” her mom protested.

As Sophia’s lips twitched, Carrie burst into a laughing fit but quickly pretended she choked on a lime wedge in her water.

After giving Carrie an evil side eye, Sophia’s mom asked, “Is this about Gina?”

“Uh—?” Sophia’s brain sputtered as she tried to figure out what her mom meant by that question. Had she guessed they’d had a fight? Or had she guessed they’d never been together in the first place? She wasn’t sure what to do.

“Nothing’s wrong with Gina.” Why didn’t Sophia cancel girls’ day out? Yes, she was an actor, but pretending everything was hunky dory after the dustup with Gina two days prior? It was too taxing, even for her. This was a far cry from pretending to shiver on a ninety-degree summer’s day.

“Your voice did that thing when you lie!” Carrie jabbed an accusing finger in Sophia’s direction.

“What thing?” Sophia squeaked.

“That thing!” her sister insisted. “It sounds like you sucked on a helium balloon.”

“It does not!” Even as she said it, Sophia could hear how it sounded exactly as her sister described.

Now her mother was wagging a finger at Sophia like she was a naughty puppy. “There it is again!”

“I should have gone with Bella.” The only thing worse than being miserable alone was being miserable with other people around and trying to pretend you weren’t.

“Bella’s having a prenatal massage. Unless…” Her mom’s face lit up in the most comical way. “Are you saying⁠—”

“Are you joking?” This time, Sophia noticed her denial was not the least bit helium-filled. Probably a good thing. “How would that even—no, never mind. I refuse to explain the birds and the bees to my own mother.”

“Or, would it be the birds and the birds?” Carrie pondered, stroking her chin. “The bees and the bees?”

“Don’t strain yourself trying to figure it out.” Sophia rolled her eyes. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. There aren’t any birds or bees.”

“Why would you say that?” Sophia’s mom asked.

“Because I’m pretty sure I’m the worst person on the planet. Gina certainly thinks so, anyway.”

Her mom and Carrie exchanged a conspiratorial head nod as if they knew the good stuff was finally on its way.

“What’d you do this time?” her mom demanded.

“Nothing…” Sophia protested, but not with her usual vehemence. It was mostly out of habit, for all the times her mom assumed she’d been at fault when the opposite was true. Right now, her mom had a point. “When I showed Gina’s script to my producer, I thought I was doing something good.”

Her mother’s face went blank. Whatever juicy gossip she’d been anticipating, this clearly was not it.

“I don’t get it,” Carrie chimed in. “What does a script have to do with anything?”

“It’d always been Gina’s dream, before she… before we broke up⁠—”

“It’s okay,” Carrie said. “We know she dumped you.”

“It was on the news,” her mom added dryly.

“Fine,” Sophia pouted. “Yes. She did. She dumped me to make documentaries, or so I thought, because they were more important than the frivolous things I wanted to do.”

“That doesn’t sound like Gina,” her mom said haltingly, a whisper of doubt creeping into her tone.

“For once, Mom, you’re right,” Sophia confirmed. She clenched her hands as the anger and frustration of the last few days started to mount. “As it turns out, she lied about that, because—get this”—Sophia made eye contact with her mom and then swiveled to eyeball Carrie—“she says she sacrificed our relationship for my sake. So I could go to LA and audition for Keystone Channel instead of following her to New York.”

“You never would’ve made it half as far in New York,” Carrie pointed out, most unhelpfully.

“That’s not the point.” Sophia glared at her sister. “I never asked her to do that. I didn’t even know about it. And I’m such an idiot, because here I thought our fake dating arrangement was actually leading somewhere. Like we’d be able to find our way back to how we were, but apparently that was all a facade, too—I don’t know. It’s hard to know what happened, because I still can’t believe it. Not to mention I haven’t gotten a wink of sleep in forty-eight hours.”

By the time she reached the end of her tirade, Sophia was shaking from head to toe, tears spilling down her cheeks.

“Fake dating. Facade. No sleep.” Her mom pronounced each word carefully, lifting one eyebrow in exactly the same gesture Sophia often used in similar situations. “I think we need to hear this whole story from the beginning, Let’s try the whole truth and nothing but the truth this time, so we can help you.”

“I just did!” Unable to stomp because she was still reclined on the chaise, Sophia kicked her feet like a two-year-old having a tantrum.

“Maybe go through it once more,” Carrie urged, sounding surprisingly sympathetic. “Remember, we thought you broke up with Gina until we heard otherwise oh so recently. We’re playing catch-up.”

“Please, Sophia.” Her mom’s expression was earnest and loving, piercing Sophia’s heart. “Let us in.”

Still sniffling, Sophia took a deep breath. She closed her eyes and started at the beginning, all the way back to when she’d first met Gina. She’d known that first day they were meant to be together. As she retold it, despite everything that had happened since that day, Sophia felt it even more deeply now.

When Sophia finished, she was on the verge of ugly crying. “I really did think this time it’d work.”

Neither her sister nor her mom said a thing for a very long second. Sophia noted with surprise that sometime during all of this, Bella had returned and was seated on one of the cushioned rocking chairs. Sophia had been so wrapped up in talking, she hadn’t noticed.

It was her mom who finally broke the silence. “It sounds like that movie. What is it called?”

“Sleepless in Seattle?” Carrie suggested while Bella nodded.

“No,” her mom said, waving her hand. “The other one, with Deborah Kerr and Cary Grant.”

“What movie?” Sophia asked impatiently. After ripping open her chest and letting her guts spill out all over the spa, were they really going to start discussing movies like a film club? “What are you even talking about?”

“You remember,” Bella said. “They’re supposed to meet at the top of the Empire State Building, but then she ends up in a wheelchair, and she decides she doesn’t want to force Grant into keeping his word. What’s the name of it? It’s on the tip of my tongue.”

“An Affair to Remember!” Carrie yelled, following it up with a triumphant whoop, like she was a game show contestant who’d just won a prize.

“Are you all serious right now?” Sophia asked in disbelief. Although why she was in shock, she wasn’t sure. This was her family, through and through. Totally crazy but kind of sweet, nonetheless.

“I’ve watched that movie so many times,” Bella added, “and it still makes me cry.”

Seriously. If they didn’t get to the point, Sophia was going to be the one crying. Again. “Life isn’t like a movie. I’m talking about real life. How does this relate?”

“Don’t you see?” Sophia’s mom asked, frowning when Sophia shook her head. “Gina loves you so much that she was trying to spare you from making a bad decision she knew would hurt you.”

“By hurting me?” Sophia demanded, every inch of her tingling with raw nerves. “I’m calling baloney on that one. She could have talked to me. We could have worked something out. She’s practically been living right down the street this whole time, apparently. She’s had ten years to spill the beans.”

“When?” Carrie prodded. “It’s not like you’re ever around. Not even for Christmas.”

Sophia cradled her head with both hands, wishing this conversation would miraculously end. She’d do anything for some silence, even brave the salt room again. But there was no escaping the females in her family. They were as relentless as lionesses on a hunt. “Oh, sure. I’m the Queen of Christmas, right? But you want to know the truth? I’m starting to hate the stupid holiday. I spend most of the year pretending it’s Christmas, celebrating with strangers I don’t care about, and when the actual day arrives, I’m always so flipping exhausted. Do you want to know what I do every Christmas? I sleep. And cry. Sleep. Cry. I’m single. I can’t even have a pet, unless you count all the cobwebs in my apartment, because I’m never home long enough to take care of anything.”

“You don’t have to be single,” her mother said softly. “Especially now when it’s so clear how much Gina still loves you.”

Sophia swallowed, tasting nothing but bitterness. “Yeah, she loves me so much she threw me out of her office and hasn’t spoken to me since.”

Instead of sympathy, her mom gave her that familiar look, the one that said she was about to figure out where her daughter had gone wrong and then inform her of it in stark detail. “How many times have you called?”

Sophia clenched her teeth. “None.”

“Texted?”

Sophia shook her head.

“Email?” This time her mom squeaked.

“Is that the helium voice?” Sophia asked Carrie.

“Similar,” her sister confirmed. “I’ll take your sudden shifting of the conversation to mean that’s a big fat no on the email.”

“You two graduated from college a decade ago, but neither of you has done much growing up.” Her mom’s voice revved as if preparing to drive her point home. Sophia braced for it. “Do you know what you two need to do? You need to talk.”

“Mom—”

But Sophia’s mom ignored her, jabbing a finger at Sophia’s phone. “Send her a text right now, saying you need to talk.”

“No one ever wants to receive a text that says we need to talk,” Sophia argued. “That’s, like, science or something.”

“I don’t care how you phrase it,” her mother argued back. “The fact remains communicating is exactly what you need to do. That’s what being a grown-up entails. That and laundry. A lot of laundry.”

Sophia chuckled at her mom’s silly attempt at a joke, choking on her own snot and realizing she’d been blubbering nonstop for at least fifteen minutes.

“Send her a text,” Bella urged, taking their mom’s side, naturally. Although Sophia suspected maybe they both had a point.

She still had to fight them on it, of course. “I can’t⁠—”

Her mom turned to Carrie, who stood, looking oddly menacing for a woman wearing a terry robe and fluffy slippers with a white towel on her head.

Sophia cowered, recalling every tussle they’d ever gotten into as kids. “What are you going to do?”

Instead of answering with words, Carrie demonstrated by sitting on Sophia, pinning her down. Bella, nearly tipping over from her protruding belly, took the opportunity to rifle through the pockets of Sophia’s bathrobe. She squealed when she located the phone. “Got it. If Soph won’t text Gina, we’ll do it for her.”

“Give it back!” Sophia hollered. She wiggled, trying to free herself, but Carrie dug in. Sophia changed tactics, trying to use logic to persuade the three clearly irrational women she was somehow related to. “It won’t do you any good. You can’t unlock it without a passcode.”

“Oh, really?” Her mom rose to her feet, seized the phone, and held it in front of Sophia’s face, instantly unlocking the screen. “I bet you didn’t think your mom knew how all that new-fangled technology worked, did you?”

Sophia stuck out her tongue. It was true. She had underestimated her mom and would pay the price. “Can’t we be adult about this?”

“Finally!” Her mom grinned. “That’s all I’m asking, for you and Gina to act like adults. I’m going to give you one more chance. Text Gina and tell her you want to discuss what’s gone on between you, or I will.”

Nostrils flaring, at least in some part because Carrie still had not let her up and she was running short on breath, Sophia reached for the phone. She typed in a text as directed and hit send.

“I want it on the record that I hate all of you,” Sophia muttered as her sister finally released her. “If this goes poorly, I blame you all completely.”

“You don’t hate us,” Sophia’s mom said lightly, her eyes full of the type of merriment that never let Sophia stay mad at her for long. “As for it going poorly, I don’t see how you two could make any bigger a mess of things than you already have, so I’m willing to take my chances.”

Great, Sophia thought. Her mother was willing to take chances with Sophia’s pathetic love life, but was Sophia ready to do the same?

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

We have to talk.

Was Gina wrong to think that was the worst sentence in the English language?

Sure, you need a root canal wasn’t a great thing to be told, either. But at least it provided information. You knew what you were looking at when a sentence like that was said. That wasn’t the case with we have to talk. That was a real heart-stopper. Without additional context, we have to talk left the recipient free to imagine every worst-case scenario under the sun.

Which was exactly what Gina had been doing for the past twenty-four hours.

As she stood in the parking lot of Boo’s Burgers, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, she pretended her only care in the world was checking out the beautiful blue sky overhead. In reality, every car that drove by caused her heart to spasm as she waited for Sophia to arrive.

The text had said four o’clock. Sophia was running late.

Or maybe she’d decided they didn’t need to talk after all. Maybe all of their talking days were done, destroyed by Gina’s foul mood and complete lack of filter when frustrated. Gina really couldn’t blame Sophia if that was the case. Things had been said that couldn’t be unsaid, and no I’m sorry—a far superior sentence to we have to talk but still with its limitations—could begin to cover.

When Sophia finally did appear three minutes later, her arrival took Gina, who was busy making a list of the best and worst English sentences she could think of and putting them in relative order, completely by surprise. For one thing, there was no car in sight. Not to mention Sophia’s face was bright red.

“You look like you’ve run a mile.” It wasn’t exactly the greeting Gina had rehearsed for the meeting. The plan had been a heartfelt I’m sorry, followed by… she hadn’t decided. An offer to let Sophia pinch the skin on her upper arm and give it a good twist, maybe? It was the kind of thing that would’ve worked in kindergarten, which frankly had been the way Gina had behaved.

“Six and a half miles, actually.” Huffing for breath, Sophia placed a leg on the lone picnic table bench outside the restaurant, stretching her calf. “I was trying for seven, but ran out of time and wanted a quick shower so I wasn’t a complete mess. Sorry I’m late.”

“Are you?” Gina wondered if her pounding heart gave her away. Sophia could probably hear it all the way where she was standing. “I hadn’t noticed the time.”

“I figured I better get some exercise in, given I’m about to blow my calorie allowance for the week.” Sophia pointed to the 1950s trailer-type restaurant behind them. “Ready to stuff your face?”

It felt almost like a reprieve. It had been a full minute and somehow the topic of their fight hadn’t come up at all. Stuffing their faces sounded way better than talking, but it left Gina confused. “I thought you were putting off the trip to Boo’s until after you finished filming.”

“That was before I realized the only cure for my crippling anxiety was a stress eating extravaganza. Something told me you might benefit from the same.”

As Gina took in the wry expression on Sophia’s face, a surge of hope passed through her. Could it have been her doom and gloom predictions about the nature of this meeting had been off the mark? Maybe we have to talk wasn’t code for I hate you after all.

Gina let out a nervous laugh. “Was it the mental breakdown in my office the other day that gave me away?”

“It may have been a clue.” Sophia chuckled, and Gina relaxed a bit more. “I’m not saying a Boo’s extra thick chocolate milkshake will fix everything. But I’m not saying it won’t, either.”

“I’m willing to give it a try.”

They went inside and placed their order at the counter. Sophia had not been joking about her plan to consume a week’s worth of calories, either. But it was when she remembered to order Gina’s old-fashioned burger with no pickles, and then repeated the instructions to be sure the kid at the register understood, that Gina truly saw the light at the end of the dark tunnel they’d been stuck in the past few days and was relieved to discover it was not, in fact, an oncoming train.

When the order was totaled, Gina reached for her wallet, but Sophia placed a hand on Gina’s arm. “I got it.”

Considering her appalling behavior, Gina felt the least she could do was pay. From the tightness of Sophia’s lips, Gina sensed this wasn’t the hill to die on. Maybe Sophia was trying to be nice, or simply worried Gina was a poor academic who couldn’t afford a burger on her own. Either way, Gina decided not to argue. “Thank you. I’ll pay next time.”

If there was a next time. For all Gina’s sudden hopefulness, that very much remained to be seen.

“Should we eat outside?” Sophia asked, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “It’s seventy-eight degrees today.”

“With no wind. Your perfect temperature,” Gina added, the memory from college popping into her head as clearly as if it had just happened.

Sophia tilted her head. “You remember that?”

“Of course. You joked about naming our future cat seventy-eight.”

“I forgot about that.” Sophia laughed.

The man dinged the bell, followed by him calling out, “Seventy-eight!”

“That’s us!” Sophia exclaimed.

“Is that really our order number?” Not believing it, Gina peered over Sophia’s shoulder, confirming the number. “Spooky.”

“Or fate,” Sophia countered, though Gina wasn’t sure how to interpret it.

Sliding the overburdened yellow plastic tray onto the picnic table, Gina took a seat facing the street, giving Sophia the better view of the town common. “Are you sure you ordered enough?”

“I’m a nervous wreck. I want all the fries and onion rings. If you don’t want your shake, I’ll have it, too.” Sophia proceeded to take a fry and dipped it into her shake.

Gina grimaced at what she had always deemed a thoroughly disgusting combination. “Either you have major PMS, or whatever you asked me here for today goes way beyond me groveling for forgiveness for acting like such an ass.”

Sophia’s eyes widened. “I had no expectation of you groveling, Gina. I hope you know that.”

“Well, I’m sorry anyway,” Gina rushed to say, not wanting any more time to pass without voicing the apology that was owed. “Now that I’ve choked that out, what’s going on?”

Sophia popped the shake-covered fry into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “I’m not sure I know where to begin.”

Gina’s stomach flip-flopped. “That sounds ominous.”

Sophia bobbed her head side to side, as if determining the severity of the news she was about to drop. “It’s just—I thought I would have heard back about the script by now, and I haven’t.”

“I told you.” Gina did her best to keep anything that could be construed as hurt or anger out of her tone, simply stating the facts as she saw them. “No one’s going to want one of my scripts.”

“That’s not true.” The passion of Sophia’s argument came as a surprise. “I want it.”

“Out of pity,” Gina added, unable to keep back the comment.

“Will you stop!” Sophia ordered this with enough force Gina immediately snapped her mouth closed. Sophia dipped another fry into her shake. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask first before sharing your work. That was wrong of me.”

“I way overreacted,” Gina admitted. “I was having a particularly bad day.”

“I need you to know I did it for two reasons.” Sophia bit into her lower lip, her nervousness palpable. Gina reminded herself not to bite Sophia’s head off again, no matter what she said next. “I really do love the story.”

After a pause, Gina prompted, “Is that one of the reasons or the windup?”

Sophia laughed, a sweet and spontaneous sound. “You see? That’s what I like about you and your writing. I love your banter in real life, and it translated beautifully to your dialogue. I’ve read hundreds of scripts since moving to LA, and what you have is a real gift. But to answer your question, that was the first, and most important, reason.”

“And the second…?” Gina waved for Sophia to fill in the blank before taking a massive bite of the juicy burger.

“I was afraid I was getting fired.”

Gina swallowed before she finished chewing and choked. How had she not known things were this dire?

Sophia shoved the shake for Gina to drink, but it was the last thing she needed in the moment. She pounded on her chest in an effort of dislodging a lump of bun and beef from her throat.

Finally, Gina was able to wheeze out, “You were getting fired?”

“I told you before, the script Dix green lit was little better than a soggy bag of manure, and it seems like IBC was already unhappy with him. Trying to hide the extent of Butch’s injuries was the last straw. The bigwig himself, Ken Abrams, flew in from the west coast to let me know Dix was out.”

“No second chances?” Considering the resources the network had sunk into the production, Gina was shocked, but Sophia shrugged, seeming to take it in stride.

“In this business, there rarely are. Ken brought a big-name producer with him whose company had just joined forces with IBC, and she took one look at the script and said what I’d been thinking all along. It was beyond salvaging. They were about to shut us down. That was when I remembered I still had your screenplay in my bag. I’d been reading it all morning, and I couldn’t put it down. I’d planned to finish it after the meeting. Instead, I handed it over. The worst thing is, I don’t know how it ends.”

“They haven’t called?”

Not answering, Sophia shoved an onion ring into her mouth.

“So, you’re going to get fired, and it’s my fault.”

“It’s not your fault! Stop taking all of my stuff onto your shoulders. You did it when you chivalrously broke up with me in college—which, by the way, is not a thing. And you’re doing it now. You are not responsible for me. You’re not responsible for Dr. Harlowe, for that matter. The only person you are responsible for is yourself.” Sophia reached for Gina’s hand, covering it with her own and holding Gina’s gaze with her earnestly expressive eyes that sent a rush of every emotion known to humankind through Gina’s soul all at once. “You need to start standing up for yourself.”

“With you or Harlowe?”

“This isn’t in my best interest to say but with everyone.”

Gina looked away, watching a biker zip by on the rail trail. “You’re right about Harlowe. He does still treat me like I’m his assistant, not an equal. The other day in my office after—” Her shrug implied their argument. “I started thinking of all the times he’s dumped his administrative work onto me, always claiming he’s so busy with the film. But, so am I.” Gina sighed. “I just need to find a way to tell him how I feel.”

“I really hope you do. But right now, I’d rather you tell me how you feel about, well, me.”

Gina’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Before the incident in your office…” Sophia’s eyes shifted toward the table, an uncertainty overtaking her. “I don’t know. It seemed like we were… like we were getting back to how we used to be. When we were together. Maybe I’m mistaken, but⁠—”

“No.” Gina’s response was as firm as it was quick. “You weren’t mistaken. I felt it, too.”

“All these years, I knew I missed you. But until I saw you again, I didn’t know what a gaping hole your absence had been.” Sophia looked up, her eyes watery. “I like being around you. I can be myself with you, and in my line of work, that’s rare. We’re usually so rushed on sets, pretending to be happy when I’m miserable inside.”

“I thought you liked your job.”

“I do, and I don’t. I mean, I’m lucky. I’m fulfilling my dream, but what they don’t tell you is when you get the job you’ve always wanted, it’s still a J-O-B.” Sophia spelled the word, an endearing habit of hers Gina had forgotten, but when Sophia did it right then, it felt like being wrapped in a hug. “I really wish you had been honest with me back then.”

“I know. I thought I was doing the right thing. The mature thing. I need you to understand how much it tore me apart.” Gina took a breath, preparing to launch into the rest of her explanation, but Sophia shook her head.

“No, let me finish. I know why you did it, but do you know what part of it still makes me mad?”

Gina swallowed, shaking her head and feeling about an inch tall.

“You took away my agency. Whether to be with you or not was the single biggest decision of my life at that point—maybe it still is, even now—and I wasn’t allowed to make it.” Sophia flicked a tear away, sinking into silence.

“You’re right,” Gina answered, her voice breaking. “I was too young and stupid to realize it wasn’t all about me.”

“You martyred yourself, and I didn’t even know it. I certainly didn’t ask you to.”

“It wasn’t simply about me playing the martyr,” Gina admitted, surprised at how much lighter she felt as the words tumbled out. “I didn’t want to admit I wasn’t good enough at the one thing I desperately wanted to do.”

“You didn’t trust me back then, but you need to now,” Sophia urged. “Because you are good enough. You are.”

“And yet”—Gina shook a fry at Sophia—“that hotshot producer from LA hasn’t called.”

“I haven’t given up.” Sophia grabbed the fry and popped it into her mouth with relish. “She’s a fool if she passes on it, but she’s just one producer. I know many. We’ll keep hitting the pavement until we get it made.”

“We?”

“It’s really good, Gin. I want to make that film. I had high hopes about my future with IBC, but they’re not the only game in town. I have a few connections.”

“But—”

“No more buts. No more ifs. I’m the flipping Queen of Christmas, and I’m going to get this done if I have to start lopping off some heads to do it.” A flush of excitement rose to Sophia’s cheeks, and Gina found herself believing without a shred of doubt that this woman could and would do exactly as she said. “I’ve been miserable for ten years. I don’t want to be anymore. So, I need to know. Do you feel the same?”

“Miserable? Yes.” Gina gave her head an emphatic nod.

“Do you think we can have a second chance?”

The words slammed into Gina’s chest. “Back in the day, you said second chances don’t happen in real life.”

“I said they hardly ever happen,” Sophia argued. “There’s a difference.”

Gina’s head swum. “I said horrible things…”

“Yeah. So did I.” Sophia gave a what can you do shrug. “We still care deeply. If we didn’t, we wouldn’t have wasted the effort or agreed to talk. Yes, we’ve made mistakes, but I’m betting we’re mature enough to make things work. That is if you want to.”

Before Gina could answer, Sophia’s phone buzzed, causing her to squeal. “It’s Jill Davidson. She wants to meet tonight, with both of us.”

“She…” Gina gasped as she made the connection. “The Jill Davidson? Producer of every major lesbian film in the past… like, ever?”

Sophia grinned, clapping her hands. “That’s the one. Did I never get around to telling you that part?”

“No,” Gina breathed. “And it’s a good thing you didn’t, or I would’ve died from nerves by now. Jill freakin’ Davidson? Oh my God.”

“So, what do you say?” Sophia’s face was radiant with hope, making Gina’s heart nearly burst.

“Yes.” Gina vibrated from the top of her head all the way to the tips of her fingers and toes. “I say yes.”

Sophia frowned slightly. “Is that a yes to dinner, or to, you know⁠—”

“It’s a yes to everything,” Gina replied. “Anything and everything. If you’re the one asking, I’m saying yes.”

Sophia bounced in her seat, giggling. “Really?”

“Yes,” Gina repeated. “See? Another yes. I would prove it to you right now once and for all by kissing you, but you have chocolate shake and French fry all over your mouth.”

“I do?” Horrified, Sophia grabbed a napkin and wiped her face, laughing as the paper came away stained greasy brown. “Oh my God. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me before. Oh well. We’ll make up for the kiss later. Right now, we need to get ready for dinner.”

“Dinner?” Gina took in the mostly empty baskets and wrappers on the tray in front of them. In the intensity of their conversation, somehow, they’d managed to eat almost everything in sight.

“It’s okay,” Sophia assured her. “I’m an actor. I’ll pretend to be hungry. Just follow my lead.”

“Anywhere,” Gina replied, happiness filling every space inside her not already occupied by burgers and fries.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“Do I look okay?” Sophia stepped into the cheery downstairs sitting room at the inn, holding her arms out from her body and swiveling at the waist from side to side so her long sundress swished around her ankles.

Perched on the love seat in the corner, Gina gazed at Sophia, a fire sparking in her eyes and growing more heated with each passing second. “You look stunning.”

Sophia flushed, a current seeming to pass between them, until she had to look away to gather herself together before her body succumbed to spontaneous combustion. “Too stunning?”

Gina tilted her head to one side. “Is there such a thing?”

“You might be surprised. In my line of work there are so many pitfalls. Everything has to be perfectly coordinated or—” Sophia made a slicing motion across her throat. “I’m still paying in the tabloids for an ill-chosen white pantsuit I wore for a magazine photoshoot four years ago. I looked like a marshmallow.”

“I bet you looked like an angel,” Gina countered. “Anyone who said otherwise was jealous.”

“I know everyone pokes fun at the people who wear nothing but black turtlenecks and jeans, but damn, I wish my life could be so simple.” Sophia crossed to the other side of the small room, twirling in front of a full-length mirror that had been set up beside the fireplace. “Maybe I should change into the one with the tiny blue alligators?”

“No.” Gina rose from the loveseat and moved to join Sophia, coming up behind her and wrapping her arms around Sophia’s waist. “You look beautiful, and I like the peonies print.”

“They’re your favorite flower.” Sophia sucked in her breath as Gina pressed her lips to Sophia’s neck, just behind her right ear. She shuddered with delight, her head swimming in the delicious, musky scent that clung to Gina’s skin.

“Peonies are a symbol of luck,” Gina whispered into her ear. Sophia struggled to keep her focus, but it was a losing battle as desire swept over her. Gina could’ve been reciting her grocery list for all Sophia knew. The only thing she was aware of was the warm breath that tickled her hairline, threatening to bring Sophia to her knees. “We’re going to need luck to get through dinner when all I want to do is slip into sweatpants, stretch out on the couch, and never move again.”

Sophia giggled, thankful for the sudden dose of humor that turned the thermostat down on her desire to a more bearable level. Whatever else the evening had in store for Gina and her, they had an important meeting to get through first. “Mental note. Gorging on Boo’s Burgers is not as wise an idea now as it was when we were twenty-two.”

“I’m not sure it was all that smart then, either.” Releasing Sophia’s waist, Gina stepped back and lifted the loose shirt she’d changed into for dinner just enough to slip her thumb behind the waistband and give it a tug. The dark fabric yielded easily, stretching several inches. “Don’t tell anyone, but it’s elastic.”

“Clever girl.” Pressing at her full belly with a sigh, Sophia checked the clock on the mantel. “Is that time right?”

Gina consulted her watch. “No, it’s five minutes slow.”

“We have to go now!”

They dashed to Gina’s car, which was parked outside the bed and breakfast, and were on the road in record time. Fortunately, Sholan Falls traffic didn’t compare to LA’s, and they arrived at Jill’s hotel in the next town over five minutes early. The hotel had a restaurant attached, and it was there they were meeting with Jill to discuss Gina’s script and the future of the film.

“I’m so glad you could make it,” Jill said warmly, standing as the hostess led Sophia and Gina to her table. “I apologize for the short notice and for not getting in touch sooner. I was called to Atlanta to put out a fire on a film Sapphicsticated is doing down there, and it ended up being much more all-consuming than I’d anticipated.”

“Not a problem at all,” Sophia assured her, vowing not to let it show how terrified she’d been until the producer’s text earlier that day.

“This must be Gina Mitchells, the screenwriter of the hour,” Jill effused in a way that would have been over the top coming from most people but felt sincere from her.

“I’m not sure about that,” Gina shuffled her feet, looking down at the carpet.

“I keep telling her how good the script is,” Sophia told Jill, “but she doesn’t believe me.”

“The bane of being a writer. Never knowing what’s good or not.” Jill motioned for Sophia and Gina to be seated. “Sorry about making you drive all this way for dinner. I tried getting reservations in Sholan Falls, but the one place open for dinner was fully booked.”

“Sean Henry’s,” Sophia said knowingly. It was the only restaurant in her hometown that offered a menu fancier than pub grub.

“That was the place. What was it like growing up in such a small town?” Jill asked as she flipped open her menu and perused the offerings.

“Quiet,” Sophia said, opening her menu as well. She scanned the choices, looking for the smallest thing possible. “I forgot just how quiet until coming back. The other night I couldn’t sleep, and I kept thinking the world must have ended because I didn’t hear a thing. Not even a car. Just crickets.”

A server approached the table. “Would you ladies like to start off with a drink?”

“Hell to the yes,” Jill answered before Sophia had so much as processed the question. The producer seized the wine list and pointed out a bottle of Malbec with a questioning look. “Red okay? Let’s do this one.”

The man bobbed his head, turned on a heel, and headed toward the bar.

“Gina, I should start by saying how much I loved Christmas at Rainbow Falls,” Jill gushed. “Speaking on behalf of International Broadcasting Conglomerate, I can tell you it has all the elements we’re looking for in a holiday movie, along with some delightfully fresh twists.”

Sophia leaned forward, unable to contain herself. “IBC wants to produce it?”

“Not only does IBC want it, they have authorized me to present a contract this evening,” Jill confirmed, “but I, personally, would like to oversee this project as executive producer.”

Sophia squealed, tapping her fingertips together. “This is a dream come true.”

“You have my wife to thank for it,” Jill said with a laugh. “I shared it with Rhonda the other night, and she was in tears she loved it so much. What’s more, I’m thrilled to say when I was in Atlanta, I dropped in on Hattie Dandrige. She’s one hundred percent on board with taking on the role of the love interest, opposite your character, Sophia.”

Sophia clasped her hands to her mouth, barely able to contain the type of yelp that would probably get them tossed out of this nice restaurant on their behinds. But how could she help it? Hattie Dandrige was one of the hottest young Black actors around.

“Did you say Hattie Dandrige?” Gina pressed a hand to her chest, as if she couldn’t believe what she’d heard. Sophia’s joy ebbed slightly as she wondered if her darling Gina was jealous. The truth was, Hattie Dandrige had nothing on Gina Mitchells, and Sophia would swear as much on a stack of Bibles daily if need be. Not that she intended to leave Gina with any doubts on the issue, just as soon as she could get her alone in her hotel room later tonight. It’d been a long day, on top of ten excruciating years.

“Yes.” A flicker of concern crossed Jill’s face. “That’s not a problem, is it?”

The waiter returned, interrupting Gina’s response with the presentation of the wine. He uncorked it with painstaking slowness, dashing some into a glass for Jill to taste. She simply waved for him to get on with it, while Gina stared as if unable to engage her vocal cords. Sophia’s heart beat faster, uncertain what issue had her girlfriend so overcome.

Gina took a long sip of wine, and when she spoke, her voice sounded stilted. “It’s just… I thought for sure… if you took the script…” She took another swallow of wine. “That you’d change the leads⁠—”

“To a man and woman?” Jill guessed. “Not on my watch!”

“I’ll admit before Sophia told me you were involved, that is what I thought.” Gina chuckled. “It’s just that these holiday movies are notoriously straight and white. I guess I assumed IBC wouldn’t want to take on too many sacred cows in one go and would cast someone, well… white.”

“Don’t get me wrong, there will be some changes to the script.” Jill circled the rim of her wine glass with a finger. “The biggest missing piece is the gazebo. Your script doesn’t have a single scene set there, and after IBC built one for the town, there’s no way we can’t include it. But I would never allow someone to disrespect your story by changing something so integral to one of your main characters as her racial identity. You can rest easy about that.”

Gina’s lips flapped opened and then closed.

Sophia couldn’t help but laugh. “You’ll have to give her a second to process. You see, I only recently learned that Gina showed this same script to the Keynote Channel back in the day, and the feedback she received was much different.”

“Oh?” Jill’s brow furrowed. “I hope this won’t be an issue. I assure you the offer I’ve brought is fair, but if there’s a counter offer from Keynote, I’ll need⁠—”

“Counter offer?” Gina cut off Jill’s sentence with a cackling laugh. “Hardly. Granted, this was ten years ago, but I was flat out told by their guy that no company would produce a holiday movie with female leads, period. And especially not one who was Black.”

It was Jill’s turn to be speechless before she muttered, “Fucking bastards.”

“I’ll drink to that!” Sophia hoisted her glass.

“I’m so tired of men, but that’s neither here nor there.” Jill reached for her briefcase, pulling out what appeared to be a contract. “Before we go any further, let me show you the deal we’re prepared to offer.”

Gina took the papers, her mouth falling open as she scanned the pages. Sophia was too far away to see the details, and Gina was apparently in too much shock to share them, but from the look of things, the offer was every bit as generous as Jill had hinted it would be.

“What do you think?” Gina started to speak, but Jill held up a hand. “I should be clear about one thing first. Given the tight filming schedule and the tweaks here and there to the script, we’re going to need you to be hands-on. I understand you teach full-time, and I hear you’re involved in planning the Comstock College Pride Festival, too. What I need to know is do you have the bandwidth to take this on? And don’t bullshit a bullshitter.”

“I wouldn’t dare try,” Gina said, shaking her head. She let out a breath, psyching herself up like a pitcher taking the mound. Finally, her head shake turned to a vehement nod. “Yes. I can do this. I may not sleep much, but there’s no way I’m going to pass this up. Not after all of these years.” Gina’s eyes met Sophia’s.

“Then, ladies, I can’t tell you how happy I am to make this work. It’s about time a script like this had its chance.” Jill motioned to the server. “Can we get a bottle of champagne?”

“Wine and champagne?” Sophia was suddenly grateful that she had not arrived at this dinner with an empty belly.

“We’re living it up!” Jill said with a laugh. “It’s time to celebrate our victory over the cishet Christmas movie patriarchy!”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“What the…?” Gina craned her neck over the steering wheel, squinting at the chain-link fence that had definitely not stretched across this road earlier that night. She looked to Sophia in the passenger seat. “Now what do I do?”

Sophia’s expression mirrored Gina’s confusion as she eyed the unexpected blockade. “Make a left here.”

Gina did as directed, almost immediately coming up against a cement barrier blocking the way, beyond which were several large storage trailers. “What’s going on?”

“It has to be equipment for the shoot tomorrow,” Sophia guessed. “See? That one is from an ice company. It takes a lot of effort to make it snow this time of year.”

“I guess. Jill did say production would be off and running, but I didn’t expect all of downtown Sholan Falls to be closed off in a matter of hours.” Gina carefully reversed the car back onto the main road, sighing as she contemplated her options. “I can almost see the inn from here, but the only way I can think to get there is to head back the way we came and take the highway down to the next exit.”

“That’ll take us thirty minutes out of the way or longer,” Sophia said. “Also, it’s under construction until the fall and down to one lane of traffic overnight.”

Gina let out a frustrated growl. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. We could park in the municipal lot by the library and walk back there in less time.”

“Yes. Let’s do that.” Sophia sounded relieved.

“What?”

“It’s a beautiful night, and a walk across the common would be romantic. Besides, the sooner we get back to my hotel…” Her voice trailed off in a way that offered so much promise, Gina wasn’t about to argue.

Fortunately, all of the roads leading to the parking lot were unobstructed, and Gina easily located a space. “I won’t get towed, will I? If I park overnight, that is.”

“What do you mean by if?” Sophia pretended to pout as she got out of the car. “Did you have other plans for this evening? A hot date, maybe?”

“Oh, I’m definitely hoping for a hot date,” Gina teased as she closed the car door and locked it.

“In that case, follow me.” Sophia took Gina by the hand, sending a burning wave of anticipation through her.

They made it to the edge of the common only to realize that even walking had its impediments this evening. A security guard in a golf cart blocked the only opening in the temporary barrier that had been erected by the film crew a few weeks before.

“I thought this was kept open unless it was a hot set,” Gina commented in a low voice. The security guard appeared to be engrossed in his phone and didn’t look up as they approached.

“It must be because of all the extra snow making equipment. It costs a fortune, so they probably needed to up the security for insurance purposes.” Sophia raised her hand in greeting as she called out, “Todd? Is that you?”

The security guard looked up from his phone and smiled. “Evening, Ms. Rossi.”

“We’re trying to get to the other side of the common,” Sophia explained, employing her most charming tone. “Would it be okay if we cut across?”

“It’s supposed to be cast and crew only—” Todd started to say, but Sophia jumped in before he could finish.

“Perfect! This is Gina Mitchells, the new screenwriter.”

Todd nodded, seeming satisfied by the explanation and all around a little bored. “Okey doke. Go on through.”

“Thanks!” Sophia led Gina through the narrow space between the golf cart and the barrier. By the time they’d passed, the guard was already lost in his phone screen.

When they’d walked about halfway across the common, Sophia stopped and stared upward into the inky black sky. “Do you hear that?”

Gina slanted her head to hear better, but all she could make out was the hum of crickets. “What?”

“Exactly.” Sophia squeezed Gina’s fingers. “It’s so quiet.”

“It’s after midnight.” Gina tried suppressing a yawn.

“Don’t you dare be getting tired on me,” Sophia scolded. “We still have plans for tonight.”

“Oh, do we?” Gina gave her eyebrows a suggestive wiggle as her fatigue evaporated.

“Yes. But first, I want to check out the gazebo.” Sophia took Gina by the hand, leading her across a section of lawn that was slightly mushy from rain earlier in the night.

“Tonight?” Despite the question, Gina trotted along beside Sophia. She’d learned years ago there was no use arguing when the woman got an idea in her head.

“Yes, tonight. You have to add it to your script, remember?” Sophia climbed the three wooden steps, pulling Gina into the gazebo behind her.

“I don’t think Jill meant I had to do it before morning.” Gina spun in a slow circle, taking in not only the gazebo but the whole stretch of downtown that was decorated like a Christmas fantasy. It all felt unreal. “I still can’t believe IBC bought my script.”

“I can,” Sophia answered, wrapping her arms around Gina and pulling her close to her chest. “You better start believing it, too, because you have to be on set in about five hours.”

“Maybe we should sleep here for the night.” Gina laughed at her own joke, but instead of joining in, Sophia eyed her with a look Gina hadn’t seen in years, except in her dreams. She knew what it meant but couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Like what?” Sophia inched closer, nibbling on her bottom lip in a way that somehow managed to come across as innocent and suggestive at the same time.

Gina raised her eyebrows, not buying the innocent act one bit. “It’s coming across a little lecherous.”

“Only a little?” Sophia’s voice was low and sultry, and her pupils tripled in size.

Gina’s body sank into the feel of Sophia’s arms around her, their lips only an inch or two apart. Even that distance was way too much. Gina couldn’t stand it any longer, like the years of not being able to kiss Sophia were hitting her all at once.

Sophia must have felt the same because the next moment she grabbed Gina’s shirt, balling it in both hands as she pulled her the last few inches, kissing Gina like they’d never kissed before. It was entirely unique, yet felt like the most natural thing in the world. Both of them deepened the connection simultaneously, pulling the other closer, getting entangled, but not caring.

The only thing that mattered was that they were back together.

“I’ve missed this,” Gina panted as she finally freed her lips long enough to mumble a few words.

“I’ve missed everything.” The way Sophia moaned the last words was a pretty big clue what everything entailed.

Desire roared to life within her, burning the deepest, unseen reaches of Gina’s being. “Nice gazebo, but should we head back to your room?”

Sophia shook her head, slowly and with such purpose Gina was taken aback. A moment later Sophia reached for the front of Gina’s shirt, unbuttoning it. Her lips fluttered across Gina’s jaw, down her neck, and even further down her chest.

“Someone will see us.” Even as Gina scouted the common for signs of trespassers, she made no attempt to escape Sophia’s grasp, or to stop her from easing yet another button from its hole.

“No one’s up,” Sophia mumbled into the crevice between Gina’s breasts. “The security guard is the only person around for a mile.”

“What if he’s a Peeping Tom?” Running her fingers through Sophia’s hair, Gina couldn’t decide what would be worse. Having to wait another second for Sophia’s touch or having a security guard in a golf cart see it happen.

“His name’s Todd. Tom is my future brother-in-law,” Sophia joked.

“What if he’s a Peeping Todd, then?” Gina snorted at her own ridiculousness, even as she turned into a puddle at every kiss and caress Sophia sent her way without any intention of stopping her.

With a subtle flick, Gina’s bra cup slipped beneath her breast. Sophia’s tongue flicked across Gina’s exposed nipple, fast and wet, even as she moved her hand down Gina’s stomach, sliding it beneath her waistband with ease. She pulled Gina’s nipple into her mouth with a hard suck and then released it slowly as the nipple stretched taut.

A finger breached the elastic waistband of Gina’s underwear, showing no signs of stopping there.

“Uh—” Gina was about to say something to the effect of perhaps they should cool it and get to the room when her back met with the hard post of the gazebo’s railing. A second later, the heat of Sophia’s hand cupping her sex chased all thoughts from Gina’s head but one.

More.

The flavor of Sophia’s kisses still lingering on her lips, Gina grasped the back of Sophia’s head to claim her mouth again with a fierceness that would’ve surprised her if she’d been thinking at all. But who could spare the energy for thought when it took all Gina had to feel what she was feeling and not fly apart?

As their tongues battled for position, Sophia traced the tip of her thumb along the wetness of Gina’s slit, teasing the folds open. She stroked Gina’s clit slowly then faster.

Gina drew a hissing breath as Sophia’s finger slid inside, while a thumb continued to circle Gina’s engorged bud. A hot searing bolt of pleasure coursed through her as a second finger joined the first. Gina felt every inch of Sophia’s fingers working inside her, bringing her closer to the moment of release.

“You still worried someone might see?” Sophia whispered.

Gina angled her hips to allow Sophia even more access, stifling a cry as the woman pressed into the spot guaranteed to drive her mad. “Huh?”

“Never mind.” Sophia giggled. “I think I know the answer.”

The laughter awoke a spark of joy in Gina’s breast, a feeling that had been absent from her life for so long it nearly took her breath away. She let out a cry, her eyes growing wide as the fear of discovery belatedly poked her brain.

“Shh. It’s okay.” Instead of pulling back, Sophia increased her efforts. Gina’s body tightened around Sophia’s fingers. “You’re almost there. I can tell.”

“I can’t believe… I’m…” Gina felt warm all over, an odd, giddy rush vibrating through her like a guitar string being plucked. She came hard, holding onto Sophia so as not to collapse into a puddle.

“This is the one thing every holiday movie is missing.” Sophia gave one final thrust before allowing her fingers to slip out. “A beautiful, hot sex scene.”

“In… a… gazebo,” Gina managed to say between sharp breaths.

“Precisely.” Sophia repositioned Gina’s bra and carefully fastened the shirt buttons while Gina pulled herself together. “And no Peeping Todd.”

“You’re sure?” Gina asked, belated fear of being caught having sex in an open-air gazebo in the middle of the night jolting her.

Sophia nodded in the direction from which they’d come. The golf cart was still in the same place, and even from a distance, Gina could tell the occupant was slumped to one side, probably fast asleep.

“See? Completely undetected.” Sophia flashed a bright smile, pairing it with a naughty wink. “Now, let’s get back to the hotel room.”

“Not so fast.” Gina’s mind now put at ease that they were not in any danger of getting caught, Gina decided it was time to flip the script on her impish vixen. Wrapping an arm around Sophia’s waist, Gina twirled her until they’d switched places, with Sophia’s back now firmly against the post. “I suggest you hold onto the railings.”

“Why?” A hint of nervousness rang out in Sophia’s laugh. “What are you planning to do?”

Gina answered by dropping to her knees, grateful the floor of the gazebo was soft pine and not something unpleasant like gravel. Not that it would’ve stopped her. Her body might feel differently about it in the morning, but for right now, Gina felt invincible.

Putting one hand on each of Sophia’s legs, Gina lifted the hem of the floral sundress, inching it along Sophia’s thighs until it was just above Gina’s head. Gina pulled the fabric over her hair, letting it fall behind her like a veil.

“Gina!” Sophia chided, although it was only her words that protested. As Gina shifted Sophia’s panties to one side, it did not escape her notice that Sophia widened her stance to give better access.

The scent of Sophia’s arousal catapulted Gina back in time, reliving all the many hours and days she’d spent buried between Sophia’s thighs. Not wanting to waste another second, Gina took Sophia into her mouth, devouring her. The sweet taste of her juice caressed Gina’s tongue. It was intoxicating, and she never wanted to stop.

Gina licked with long, sure strokes, entering Sophia with her tongue before adding first one finger and then another.

Sophia’s hands clutched the railing. Her low, deep moans spurred Gina to continue.

Gina could hardly believe this was happening. Was she really making love to the one woman she’d desired and adored more than anyone in her life, in a gazebo in the middle of the town common?

Impossible!

Yet, after the evening she’d had, with all of her dreams coming true, this seemed such a natural and fitting conclusion. How could the perfect day end in any other way?

And, fuck, Gina had missed the way Sophia tasted, her musky scent, and the tiny pants she made the closer she came to bliss. The pants turned more rugged, and Gina sensed Sophia was struggling to stay on her feet. Gina focused all her energy on getting Sophia to come. It was the best way to end the evening.

No, it was the best way for their second act. Together.

Sophia’s legs trembled, and she clawed Gina’s head, without actually touching her since her head was under the sundress. There was a dramatic shudder, and then Sophia’s legs nearly buckled, and Gina had to act fast to get to her feet to keep Sophia on hers.

“Now should we head back to the inn?” Gina asked.

Sophia opened her eyes, wearing the expression of a drunken sailor who had yet to gain her sea legs. “Give me time to recover enough so I can walk.”

Gina chuckled, feeling pretty damned proud of herself, too. “Do you think this would work for incorporating the gazebo into the script?”

“You’d better be joking.” Sophia made a weak attempt to make herself presentable, though it was a delightfully lost cause. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to look at a gazebo the same way again.”

“I should hope not.” Gina held out her arm for Sophia to take. “Come on. Let’s head back before we get caught. I’d like to run this scene again a couple times back in the room, just to see if we can make some improvements.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

In the glow of a dim reading lamp on the hotel nightstand, Sophia traced the curve of Gina’s cheek with the tip of her finger. She started with the lightness of a feather, gradually increasing the pressure so as to rouse the sleeping woman as gently as possible.

“Hmmm…” was all Gina seemed able to say. It was clear she wasn’t fully awake, but even so, she wore the most beautiful smile Sophia had ever seen.

After two weeks of waking up together every morning, Sophia was beginning to recall that Gina had never been the most coherent or talkative at the start of the day. It was a trait they’d once shared, before years of early call times had turned Sophia, however begrudgingly, into at least a semi-morning person.

“Hmmm, to you, too.” Sophia snuggled closer, placing her head on Gina’s breast, which was bare, along with the rest of her. That had been a definite perk of reuniting in full-blown adulthood. Without roommates to worry about, both Gina and Sophia felt free to indulge in being naked as much as they pleased.

And, they had. A lot.

“Hmmm?” Gina responded to Sophia’s imitation of her in exaggerated fashion, cracking one eye open to see how her joke landed. “It’s a good thing I’m the writer.”

“Are you suggesting I’m not good at dialogue?” Sophia demanded with mock outrage.

“Delivering it? Pure perfection.”

Sophia rolled on top of Gina’s delightfully soft naked body, using one knee to separate her legs. “Pretty sure I’m good at delivering a lot more than lines.”

The spark of desire in Gina’s eyes was impossible to miss, but even so, she turned her mouth away when Sophia came in for a kiss, offering her cheek instead.

“Hey!” Sophia protested.

“We have to work,” Gina replied with obvious regret. “If we start kissing, we may never make it to the set.”

“We have a few minutes,” Sophia playfully pouted. “It’s not my fault you slept in.”

“Slept in?” Gina shot a withering look at the dark window to one side of her. “It’s not even light out yet.”

“Doesn’t mean the work day hasn’t started.” Sophia couldn’t quite suppress a sigh as she thought of all the predawn call times she’d been saddled with over the years. “This is the glamorous part of making movies you’ve been missing.”

“Can’t say as I’ve missed it. But you know what I do regret?” Apparently willing to tempt herself into breaking her own resolve, Gina traced Sophia’s spine with both hands, not stopping until she cupped her ass.

“All the terrible bad coffee and stale donuts you didn’t get?” Sophia nipped at Gina’s earlobe before nuzzling the crook of her neck.

Gina squirmed but in the good way. “Not being by your side. These last two weeks have been amazing, haven’t they?”

“We agree on that topic.” Sophia wanted to stay in bed all day, but knew that wasn’t possible. Even so, she couldn’t resist asking, “You sure I can’t talk you into a quickie?”

“You probably could,” Gina admitted. “But you shouldn’t. I have to head straight to campus after going over the script with Jill this morning. I can’t teach a class with you all over my face.”

“Why not?” Sophia offered her most impish grin.

Gina wriggled with more intensity this time, causing Sophia to roll to one side enough to allow for an escape. “Shower. Now!”

Propping herself up on one elbow, Sophia pulled out her biggest weapon, the batting of her long eyelashes. “You aren’t the boss of me.”

“Technically, as one of the producers, aren’t you the boss of me?” Lifting the covers off herself, Gina made a quick exit from the bed.

“I’ll compromise,” Sophia offered, trying to think of any way to keep Gina from completing her escape. “Shower sex!”

“You like naming sex. You’ve been talking about gazebo sex for two weeks, and now I guess it’s going to be shower sex.” Gina rummaged through a pile of discarded clothing, pulling out a bathrobe from amidst the clutter and throwing it over her shoulders.

“Sometimes you complain about the oddest things.” Sophia rose to her feet, jutting out a naked hip by way of showcasing everything Gina was arguing against. “You sure I can’t change your mind about the shower?”

“You’re totally cheating!” The glint in Gina’s eyes told Sophia she’d won the argument.

“Come on. I’ll even help you scrub your back.” Sophia took Gina’s hands in hers and began leading her toward the bathroom. “It’ll go faster that way, and I wouldn’t want you to be late.”

By the time they arrived on the set—with ten minutes to spare, which Sophia considered a personal achievement—everyone was moving to and fro, frantically getting everything ready for the day. They would be shooting outdoors at a simulated holiday fair, ending with the big tree lighting scene. In Sophia’s experience, both were vital elements of a successful film, but she had a renewed sense of excitement at experiencing them in her hometown.

The moment Sophia and Gina strode onto the set, Jill made a beeline for Gina.

“There you are! I have a question about these lines I’ve circled.” The producer handed over a coffee-stained script. No sooner had she done this than her attention was caught by the crew that was busy wrapping pine boughs around a lamppost. “Oh! They’ve got the wrong garland. I’ll be right back.”

Sophia gave Gina a quizzical look, but Gina was too busy reading the page, reaching into her bag for a pen. Sophia chuckled to herself. It had only taken Gina a few days to become as accustomed to the controlled mayhem of a Christmas movie set as Sophia was.

With the garland error rectified, Jill returned with a plate of cannoli. “Sophia, I both love and hate your mother. If she keeps bringing these over, I’m going to need a whole new wardrobe. Who knew cannoli was the perfect breakfast?”

“Is that what this smudge is, here?” Gina pointed to a splotch of something on the script in her hand. “Cannoli guts?”

“It’s called cannoli filling, word genius,” Sophia mocked, giving Gina a good-natured shoulder bump.

“Are they fresh?” Gina asked, paying no attention to Sophia.

“Definitely. Mrs. Rossi was here before me this morning, which is saying something.” Jill chomped into the cannoli, getting the filling on her chin, which she wiped with the back of her hand.

“I don’t know who’s more excited about being on set: my mother, Gina, or maybe Peeping Todd.” Sophia waggled her brows at Gina, getting back at her for not laughing at the word genius joke, even if it hadn’t been overly witty.

“Who’s Peeping Todd? Do I need to speak to security?” Jill glanced around suspiciously, as if expecting to find a man in a trench coat hiding behind the nearest bush.

“He is security,” Sophia said with a snicker.

“It’s a long story,” Gina added, gnashing her teeth at Sophia.

“Speaking of stories,” Jill said, “that reminds me. Your interview is up on The Rising Celesbian blog.”

“Already?” Gina sipped her coffee, staring longingly at the cannoli Jill was polishing off. Sophia made a mental note to ask her mom for half a dozen next time they dropped by for a visit.

“Yep, and I’ve lined up some morning show interviews for you and Sophia,” Jill added, “after we finish shooting.”

“At least now we don’t have to worry about people finding out we’re dating,” Sophia said to Gina.

“Quite the contrary,” Jill assured them. “I want you two to talk it up. How the Pride Parade brought you two together. Oh, there’ll be television crews at Pride as well. I really hope you two aren’t keeping any other secrets because we’re going to have cameras on you until the movie comes out.”

As Jill chuckled, Sophia studied Gina’s face. Not that it was a secret, exactly, but there was the small issue that Gina hadn’t been entirely forthcoming with Comstock College—which was to say, her boss, in particular—about this side gig. Sophia was amazed at how cool Gina managed to play it, all things considered.

While Gina hadn’t missed teaching a single class, and she’d been putting in as many hours on the documentary promo as before, Sophia had a feeling Professor Harlowe wouldn’t like Gina wasting time on a Christmas movie. Crap for Neanderthals, she seemed to recall the man calling such forms of entertainment when she’d been a student in one of his classes. From everything Gina had said, Sophia didn’t think the years had softened the prig.

“I really should get in the makeup chair,” Sophia said.

“I still need to go over today’s script before I head to campus, and I’m running late.”

“I thought you had a few hours.”

“I got a quote-unquote urgent text earlier from Harlowe.” Gina gave a slight eye roll, the only fitting response to the way her boss tended to elevate his own needs above everything else. “He wants to talk to me about something.”

“He didn’t say what?”

“You know how he is. I told him I could drop in before class, although I think I might have to postpone until after, depending on how long the revisions take with Jill.” Gina gave Sophia a kiss on the cheek. “See you later tonight.”

“You’ll be here for the tree lighting scene?”

Gina grinned. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

Sophia had made it about halfway to the makeup trailer when she was stopped in her tracks as her mom and sisters swarmed around her. “What are you guys doing here?”

“We’re extras for the tree lighting,” her mom stated as if that should have been obvious.

Sophia blinked. “That’s not for hours. It’s not even dark out yet.”

“I want to be ready for my closeup.” Her mom pressed her hands together, exuding glee. “From what the director told us at the audition, we have to pretend like we’re watching the tree at Rockefeller Center.”

“Something like that,” Sophia confirmed.

Her mom wrinkled her nose as she took in the artificial tree that had been erected near the gazebo. “It’s not that impressive of a tree. The real one the town puts up over the holidays is way nicer.”

“Yes, well it’s May,” Sophia pointed out. “And starting to get hot. A real tree now would dry out and burst into flames. By the time the scene makes it through post-production, it’ll look like a million bucks. That’s why it’s called acting.”

“What kind of award will I be up for?”

“What are you talking about?” Bella demanded, making a face as she rubbed her swollen belly.

“How are you feeling?” Sophia asked her sister.

“Best Supporting Actor?” Sophia’s mom continued, paying no attention to her older daughter.

“The baby’s been kicking, but I’m fine,” Bella replied.

“I have ten bucks that her water breaks during filming tonight.” Carrie seemed way too jolly about the thought.

“She’s not due for weeks,” their mom corrected, turning her focus back to Sophia. “At the Oscar’s.”

“What are you—Hold on a second.” Sophia choked back a laugh. “Do you think being an extra in a TV movie will earn you an Academy Award nomination? I’ve starred in twenty of these things, and I’ve never even been nominated for a Golden Globe.”

“You don’t have my joyful face down.” As if to bolster her claim, she showed Sophia her Rockefeller Center expression again. The three sisters exchanged Mom’s gone crazy glances, but it was clear none of the Rossi girls wanted to burst her bubble.

“I guess we’ll see,” Sophia said, sucking in her cheeks. She was trying to keep from laughing, but it quickly became unnecessary as Sophia spied a familiar face that sapped her of any desire to laugh. “Is that Evan Harlowe?”

Her mom and sisters offered little more than confused faces, but there was no doubt about it. The professor was heading right for Gina, with Peeping Todd giving chase. Sadly, not in his golf cart, because Sophia realized with surprising intensity how much she would have liked to see the snobby professor mowed down to size.

Without wasting a second, Sophia began running toward Gina, waving her arms for attention. But it was no use. Gina and Jill were still buried in the script. It was only when the professor was a few yards away that Gina glanced up. Her horror-filled eyes making it clear whatever was about to happen wasn’t going to be good.

“Professor Harlowe?” Gina began. “I was planning to meet with you⁠—”

“Don’t give me that,” he all but yelled, looking mad enough to bite Gina’s head off and use it like a doggie chew toy. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Gina took a step back, flinching as she did. For one brief but shocking moment, she was convinced Dr. Harlowe was about to throw a punch. His eyes seemed crazed, his seething anger completely at odds with the festive holiday decor surrounding them. A few members of the crew looked on in stunned silence, as if they, too, didn’t know what to make of this scene.

“I’m sorry,” she stammered, “but I have no idea⁠—”

“Sir, you can’t be here.” As the security guard made a brave lunge to grab the professor’s arm, Gina vowed never to refer to him as Peeping Todd again.

“Do you know who I am?” Harlowe growled. “Let go of me.”

“It’s okay, Todd. He’s…” Gina’s explanation died on her lips. She wasn’t sure what to say. While he was the head of her department at the college, as long as she was working on the film set, the professor wasn’t technically her boss. Not here.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Todd pressed. By this point, Sophia had come up, too, her expression mirroring the security guard’s concern.

Gina nodded to both of them, forcing herself to pull it together despite feeling shaky inside. She leveled her gaze at Professor Harlowe, not sure she’d ever seen him so enraged. “Is there an emergency that you needed to track me down when I was heading to campus momentarily?”

“Yes, I’d say there is.” Harlowe’s voice boomed, prompting Gina to wave her hands at him to turn it down. More crew members were staring, and Gina’s initial feeling of shock was morphing into profound embarrassment.

“Why don’t you go to my trailer to talk in private?” Sophia suggested, coming to Gina’s rescue.

But instead of agreeing like a rational human, the professor’s eyes sparked with renewed ire. “You. I should’ve known you’d turn back up like a bad penny.”

“What does that mean?” Sophia demanded, but the man had refocused on Gina.

“I hope you know you’ve ruined any chance of ever making tenure. Do you really think the committee will be impressed by this Christmas film?” The way he said Christmas with such derision, he might as well have been accusing Gina of making pornography.

Sophia took a step forward, giving Gina heart palpitations as she imagined her girlfriend challenging Harlowe to an actual fistfight. “A major entertainment company is producing a movie Gina wrote the script for. Why wouldn’t the committee be impressed?”

“This isn’t a movie.” Harlowe’s lip curled in a way Gina had never seen. She’d heard the rumors he could be condescending and nasty, but until this moment, she’d never witnessed it firsthand. Impatient, yes, especially when they had a tight deadline. But this was something meaner spirited. Hurtful, even. “These pathetic stories are nothing but catnip for idiots.”

“I think that’s enough,” Gina said, her voice steady and firm, speaking to her mentor like she might have to with the kids on the festival committee when their bickering got out of control. “I assume you came here for a reason.”

Something other than bashing her and Sophia—hell, the entire Christmas movie industry—in their own workplace. The more Gina processed it, the more she realized Dr. Harlowe was completely out of line.

“You don’t think I have a legitimate interest in what you put your name to? Your name is tied to mine, don’t forget.” Harlowe let out a loud breath, clearly exasperated but making a belated attempt to rein it in. “More importantly, you do not have time for this nonsense. There are three interviews that need to be augmented. Audio should suffice.” Harlowe handed over a folder. “All the details are in here.”

Gina flipped through the file with mounting confusion. “All of these have already been edited. We can’t touch them without adding an extra week of work, at least.”

“Like I said, you don’t have time to waste.” That mean expression took over the professor’s features again, like an alien taking possession. “You know, Gina. If you’d done your job right the first time, they wouldn’t have to be redone.”

“I can…” Gina caught herself before she did what she usually would in these circumstances, apologize and agree to try harder. Maybe it was his expression that made the words sink in, or maybe she’d finally reached her breaking point. Either way, she found herself saying, “You’ve been doing the interviews, Evan. Not me.”

Gina stifled a gasp. Had she just called him by his first name? She’d never done that before that she could recall, and especially not with such anger in her tone.

It did not go unnoticed.

“Why this movie?” Harlowe’s tone and expression grew accusatory as he motioned to the staff moving a Christmas tree from the candy shop to the cafe next door for the next scene, the tree looking slightly worse for wear. “This is going to ruin you. You might as well have tried out to be a cheerleader for the Patriots. That’s just as bad—no, this is worse. This is going on your IMDb page, right next to our films. No one is going to take you seriously anymore. Or me.”

Which, it was becoming increasingly clear, was really what this was all about. Harlowe didn’t care about Gina at all. He was only concerned for his own reputation. Paranoid, more like.

In her most calming way, Gina attempted to smooth his ruffled feathers. “I really don’t think⁠—”

“Clearly not.” Harlowe’s face grew flushed, and it was obvious her attempt to calm him had had the opposite effect. “I’ll call the tenure committee, but I’m going to have to be honest with them. You’ve messed up my documentary while chasing this stupid dream of yours. I truly thought I’d beaten that out of your head before you graduated, but I guess I was wrong.”

Gina stood speechless, trying and failing to recall a time she’d ever shared her dream of screenwriting with Harlowe, let alone him attempting to beat it out of her, as he’d said. Why would he think he’d had anything to do with it all those years ago?

“If you know what’s best for you, quit this right now and come back to campus with me.” As Harlowe spun around to leave, Sophia broke her long silence.

“Hey, a—Professor Harlowe.” Sophia’s jaw was tight, as she stopped herself from calling him an asshat, a sure sign she was in fighting mode. Gina felt her spirits plummet as he wheeled back around, eyes shooting daggers at her girlfriend. “I know you don’t get this, but Gina is a professor. Not a teacher’s assistant. Not a grad student. She’s your equal. No, I’d say she’s far superior to you. And, her screenplay is the best I’ve ever read.”

“Sophia,” Gina hissed, her stomach roiling. Why was the woman insisting on poking an angry bear?

“It’s true,” Sophia said in her defense.

Harlowe blinked twice at Sophia’s outburst, then turned from her like she was nothing more than a gnat buzzing around his face.

“I thought you were better than this, Gina. I really did, or I wouldn’t have... If you don’t fix the interviews, consider yourself fired from the project. And don’t think I can’t do it.” At this point, he turned to Sophia, venom seeping into his words. “Don’t think I can’t, Little Miss Christmas. When it comes to the Comstock College Film Studies department, I am in charge. Hell, I’m basically God.”

With that, Dr. Harlowe strode away with such exaggerated determination he looked like a diva flouncing off a stage. Despite the seriousness of what had transpired, Gina nearly burst out laughing, especially because he had to walk all the way across the green lawn and started to lose steam halfway.

“Did Professor Harlowe just threaten me?” Gina mused when he was gone. The entire interaction hardly seemed real. “He said he would talk to the tenure committee, but was that to help my case or to sink it?”

“My money’s on sinking it,” Sophia said, her expression grim. “I think he dumped his entire workload on you, too. Again.”

Feeling off balance, Gina reached out for Sophia’s shoulder to steady herself. “I don’t know what to think. This can’t be happening.”

Sophia placed an arm around Gina’s waist. “Sadly, that was all too real.”

Gina opened the folder Harlowe had handed her, letting out a moan as she skimmed the page. “How am I supposed to get all this done?”

“I can help.”

Gina shut her eyes. “What’s the point? If he torpedoes my tenure application, I might as well quit.”

“Over the years,” Sophia said in her sternest troop-rallying tone, “I’ve dealt with a lot of people like Evan Harlowe, and do you know why they act so almighty and powerful?”

“Because they are?”

“No, because they aren’t, and they can’t handle it.” Sophia shifted, taking both Gina’s hands in hers and looking her in the eyes. “You are young and talented. The whole world is your future.”

“But without Professor Harlowe⁠—”

“Without him, what?” Sophia squeezed Gina’s hands. “He needs you. That much is clear. For all he wants you to think he has the power, he needs you. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be so angry.”

“But I didn’t tell him about this film, and I did commit to a portion of the documentary being ready to present at the Pride Festival.” A million other reasons the professor’s behavior was justified crowded into Gina’s mind, but before she could give them voice, Sophia shook her head.

“Don’t start that again. You’re always defending him. Does he tell you every project he does in his free time?”

“Well, no,” Gina admitted.

“And does your contract with the college require you to share that information with him?”

“No.”

“What exactly did you do wrong then?”

“Nothing, I guess…”

“Exactly.” Another squeeze of the hands, harder this time. “Nothing. You’ve done nothing since I got here except work your ass off covering for that man’s laziness. You grade his papers. You redo his work. You’re doing everything for this documentary, and he’s taking all the credit.”

“I’m being listed as the co-director,” Gina argued.

“While he’s listed as a director and the producer. It’s not right.”

Gina’s shoulders slumped. “Maybe not, but I won’t be listed at all if I don’t get these interviews redone. I’m afraid I’ll have to work all weekend.”

“And miss Mom’s cookout on Sunday?” Sophia looked horrified. “Absolutely not. I told you I’ll help. You just tell me what to do. Okay?”

For the first time since Professor Harlowe had burst onto the set, Gina found herself able to smile. The encounter had left her on edge, dredging up serious doubts about her working relationship with a mentor she once thought she’d understood. They were doubts she’d pushed aside for far too long, lacking the strength or mental energy to address them.

“Okay.” Gina’s heart swelled. Something about Sophia being willing to fight alongside her gave Gina the confidence she needed. “Thank you.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“Are you sure you don’t mind making these calls?” Standing in the room at the bed and breakfast on Saturday morning, Gina patted her pockets, having once again misplaced her keys.

“You’re the epitome of the absent-minded professor.” Sophia dropped Gina’s keys into her open palm. “And, no. I’ll be fine. You have enough on your plate driving to Connecticut to complete the missing interview.”

“Last time I checked, your plate is just as full,” Gina argued.

Sophia blew a puff of breath upward, shifting the hair from in front of her eyes. “Will you just trust me? I can handle doing some simple fact-checking.”

After sending Gina out the door with a kiss, Sophia set to work on her mission. She hadn’t wanted Gina to know, but Sophia had an ulterior motive for helping. As Gina had flipped through the file the day before on the set, Sophia had recognized one of the names on the list.

Larry Jacobs.

He’d been an executive at the Keystone Channel when she’d made her first film. More importantly, and something she doubted Gina knew, he was married to Alex Cross, the man who’d once convinced Gina to abandon all hope of a career as a screenwriter. Seeing Larry’s name on this list had come as a shock, as she’d been unaware of a connection between either Larry or Alex and Professor Harlowe. She suspected there was obviously more to this story than met the eye, and Sophia intended to find out what.

After downing an extra strong cup of coffee, Sophia sat at the desk and fired up her laptop. The video meeting had already been confirmed, so all she had to do was click to begin. Soon, the image of a man with a salt and pepper beard filled the screen.

“Sophia Rossi.” Larry grinned. “What a sight for sore eyes you are after all these years. You haven’t changed a bit.”

“I see you’re still a flatterer, Larry,” Sophia teased, feeling her face flush. His charm was hard to resist, which she suspected was the whole point of it. The man had made a career working with actors, after all, a group famously well-known for lapping up praise like kittens drinking milk.

“I’ll admit to being a little confused. Not that I’m not delighted to be talking to you, but that Harlowe fellow said I’d be speaking to his assistant. A Gina someone, I think it was.”

Assistant, was it? Sophia struggled to keep her anger in check. It figured Harlowe would present Gina in that way.

“Honestly?” Sophia’s belly tightened as she prepared to tell the truth of why she was calling. “While I do have a few questions to clarify for the documentary, it’s Alex I was hoping to speak to.”

“Alex?” Larry’s face clouded. “He wants nothing to do with this project, or anything Evan Harlowe has a hand in.”

Interesting. And yet, Larry had agreed to be interviewed on camera for it. Why?

“It’s nothing to do with the film. I promise,” Sophia said with caution. “It’s more a personal matter.”

Larry’s brow furrowed, but after a moment of silence, he turned and called to someone off camera. “Honey? Do you have a minute? It’s Sophia Rossi for you.”

“Sophia Rossi?” she heard a man’s voice say, clearly bewildered. “What would she want with me?”

“Tell him it’s about my girlfriend, Gina,” Sophia urged. “Gina Mitchells.”

Before Larry had the chance to relay the message, Alex appeared on the screen. “Okay, Larry-bear. I’ll take it from here. Why don’t you take the dogs down for their walk?”

Larry gave him a questioning look. “You don’t want me to stay on the call?”

“Nah. This won’t take long, and the boys are getting restless.” Even as he said it, Sophia heard barking in the background. With a nod, Larry headed off camera. Alex didn’t speak again until after Sophia heard a door close or so she conjured up in her mind. At that point, Alex puffed out his cheek, letting the air slowly seep out as he seemed to weigh how to begin. “Are we alone on this call?”

“Yes. See?” Sophia moved the laptop to the right and left to show no one else was in the room. “Now that I’ve confirmed it, can you tell me what this is all about?”

Alex leaned closer to the camera, clearly holding his stomach like he was going to be sick. “I know we only briefly met, ten years ago, but that trip to Comstock was the reason why I left Keystone.”

“Why?”

“Because I just couldn’t take the shit anymore. Everything he demanded. And for what?” Alex ran a hand over his thinning hair. “I’ve been living with this weight for so long. It might feel good to get it off my chest.”

“Does this have something to do with Gina? Or with Evan Harlowe?”

Alex’s face twisted with disgust. “If I never hear that man’s name again, it’ll be too soon.”

The moment he’d said it, Sophia could tell he regretted it. “Don’t worry. I have no use for him either.”

“Has he blackmailed you as well?”

“Harlowe’s been blackmailing you?” Sophia swallowed, studying her face on the screen to make sure it didn’t reveal the surprise she felt inside. “Why?”

He let out a bitter laugh. “That’s been the curse of this business for as long as I can remember. Half the people running Hollywood are on the rainbow spectrum, but no one is supposed to make that known. It’s getting better, of course, but ten or fifteen years ago? It was worse than the military with the don’t ask, don’t tell bullshit.”

Sophia nodded slowly. “Can you tell me exactly what happened between you and Professor Harlowe?”

Alex closed his eyes, massaging his temples. “Being a gay man working for a traditional family values corporation like Keystone was a risk. I knew that. But it was a good job, and I thought I’d been careful, you know? But that man, he has friends everywhere.”

“Harlowe?” Regretting speaking the name aloud, Sophia held her breath as she waited for him to respond. The way Alex had said the word friends, it was clear he meant something more sinister.

“I suspect his spies were in a similar situation as I found myself in over the years. Evan Harlowe is a tricky bastard, with those good looks of his, dapper suits, and that magnetic personality. But he doesn’t have friends. If he pretends otherwise, rest assured he has a purpose in mind for you.”

“What did he have in mind for you?” Sophia asked, her body tensing.

Alex shook his head. “If I tell you, you’ll hate me. I know neither of us works for Keystone anymore, but I’m in talks with an IBC affiliate. I hear you have clout there now.”

“All the more reason to tell me,” Sophia said soothingly. “I’m not like the professor in question. Whatever happened back then, I would never use it against you now. Does this have to do with Gina Mitchells?”

Alex’s shoulders sagged. “I still feel guilty about that. The kind that claws at you.” He twisted his shirt with a clenched fist.

“Because you flat out told Gina to give up screenwriting?” Sophia guessed.

He stared blankly into the camera before shame washed over his face. “I didn’t even read her script because I didn’t want to know how much damage I could be inflicting. Then, I heard IBC bought one, and everyone’s been singing her praises.” His upper body convulsed. “I didn’t want to do it. Who was I to tell someone not to chase their dream? I was working in movies, and no one thought I could when I was her age. I hate that evil man and the things he makes you do.”

“Why Gina?”

“He didn’t want her to leave for LA, but he didn’t want it to seem like he had anything to do with it, either. No fingerprints. That’s how he put it.”

“I don’t think I follow. Why did he need a twenty-two-year-old so badly he was willing to ruin her career prospects, not to mention her personal life, over it?”

“Look; he’s a decent filmmaker,” Alex said, “but he’s no Ken Burns. Oh, he got lucky with a couple things when he was young, but after that, rumor was he couldn’t hack it on his own. He’d been relying on his students for years to keep him at all relevant, but when he got ahold of Gina, I think he felt he’d struck gold.”

“She’s very talented,” Sophia said, anger burbling in her chest.

“And he’s very manipulative. Not to mention lacking any moral compass. He called me up and told me if I didn’t agree to meet with his protege the next time I came through the area, and tell her she had no chance in screenwriting, he was going to out me not only to Keystone but to my parents.”

“How did he even know?”

“We were in college together.” Alex gritted his teeth, his face turning scarlet. “I thought we were friends. But he filed it away, like he always does. Striking when it suits him. I know it might sound cowardly, but ten years ago, I hadn’t come out to anyone. Not at work, not in my family. They thought Larry was my roommate. I didn’t know what to do. I was scared.”

“That’s understandable.” Sophia thought of her own family, how accepting they’d been of her over the years. But she knew not everyone had such good fortune. Gina’s own strained relationship with her family ever since coming out, after all, proved Sophia was lucky. “Being scared is a natural response, Alex. I get it. This was Harlowe’s fault for using you.”

“I’ve since learned I’m not the only one. There’s a covert group of successful Hollywood insiders who have all been victimized by Harlowe over the years. We’ve wanted to rectify the damage we’ve inflicted at the devil’s behest, but we don’t know how.”

A light bulb clicked in Sophia’s head. “Is that why you’re telling me now? Because you and others want to come out of the Harlowe victim closet?”

“I don’t know. The truth is I’ve been sick all morning, waiting for Larry to get this call.” Alex looked on the verge of tears. “I mean, even now, that vile man has me doing his bidding out of guilt, getting my own husband to be in this documentary because he assured me it would be a way of making amends to Gina for what I did.”

Sophia spoke quickly, her heart pounding as a plan began to form in her mind. “Alex, I hate to tell you this, but Harlowe is doing everything he can to undermine Gina. He has no intention of giving her any credit for this film, no matter what he told her. But I think I have a way to turn the tables, if you’re willing to help.”

“Anything,” he confirmed, striking a fist against his palm. “Harlowe claims to be a champion of the underdog. Women, people of color, the LGBTQ+ community. He’s none of those. If you have a way to expose him for the monster he is, you can count me in.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Gina stood at the edge of the common, staring at the gazebo. It was evening, but the sun hadn’t yet set, having reached that time of year when it remained light well past the dinner hour. The warm spring breeze and abundant flowers were even more at odds than ever with the Christmas decorations that covered every surface.

One more week, and then filming would be done. After that? Gina wasn’t sure.

Especially now.

Grasping her phone from her pocket, Gina tried for the millionth time not to panic over Sophia’s text message.

We have to talk.

Seriously, did the woman know no other ways to phrase things so as not to provoke an aneurysm?

While the last time Gina had received a text like this, it had turned out okay in the end, it was difficult for her to see how her luck would hold out. Taking Sophia up on her offer to help today had been a bad idea. It was too much to ask, and Sophia would be well within her rights to call Gina out on it.

Or, worse.

Given the stress she was under, what would she do if Sophia changed her mind about their relationship? The film was nearly done, and they were a week away from the Pride Festival. They hadn’t discussed what the future would look like after that. A challenge, that was for sure, even under the best of circumstances. And if the issue with Professor Harlowe had demonstrated anything, it was how far from perfect the circumstances really were. But surely that couldn’t be what this was about.

Couldn’t it, though?

Gina felt faint. Was it possible to simply ignore the message? That was her preferred method of dealing with shitty situations. Just keep paddling like hell, avoiding the rocks in the river, and turning a blind eye to the whitewater on the horizon. Avoid, and hold on for dear life.

That was exactly what had caused their relationship to crash and burn the first time.

Sighing, Gina headed toward the gazebo where she could already see Sophia waiting. Time to face the music.

Sophia was seated when Gina arrived, and it occurred to her that benches had been added since the last time they were here. That would’ve been convenient. Gina’s knees had been bruised for a week.

Now is not the time to be thinking about that.

“Hey.” Gina stood beside the bench but didn’t sit, not wanting to get too close and potentially place herself in the middle of danger.

“Hey, yourself.” Sophia’s expression softened as if detecting Gina’s heading to the guillotine vibes. “Are you okay?”

“You tell me.” Gina held up her phone. “I came away unscathed the first time you sent me a text like this, but…?”

“You might want to sit down.” Sophia motioned to the bench beside her. Gina lowered herself onto it, her spirits sinking as quickly as her body.

“It’s sit down bad?” Just flipping fantastic. Gina rocked back and forth on the bench, unable to still the chaos that was racing through every cell.

In a move that was the opposite of what Gina had expected, Sophia eased close enough to wrap an arm around her shoulders. “I learned something today, and while I know the news is going to be upsetting to you, given our past history of letting things stay secret and come between us—I decided it’s best for us to talk it through this time, instead of avoiding it.”

“I like avoiding,” Gina mumbled, although the tension in her shoulders was starting to lessen as she realized this was not about their future together, as she’d feared. No, that difficult conversation could be saved for another day.

“I’m aware,” Sophia said with a laugh, giving Gina a nudge with her shoulder. “However, this is something we need to tackle head-on, together.”

“Together?”

“Absolutely. Always.” Sophia threaded her fingers with Gina’s.

Gina let out a relieved sigh. “This really isn’t about us?”

“Not exactly.” The hesitation in Sophia’s words didn’t do Gina’s mental health any favors.

“I feel like I need tequila shots to get through this.”

“More like a punching bag to get your anger out.”

Gina repositioned, sitting with her back against the hard wooden railing of the gazebo for support. “Hit me with it.”

“It’s about Harlowe.”

Gina’s forehead creased, but she didn’t say anything. Sophia looked like she would rather walk through fire than say whatever it was that she needed to get off her chest.

“I don’t know how else to say this, but the guy’s toxic.”

“I know he can be demanding⁠—”

“That’s the least of it.” Sophia slanted her head, meaning she meant business, and Gina had to listen.

Gina’s body clenched, but she didn’t do anything to stop Sophia from continuing. In fact, what she really needed was to get it over with.

Sophia laid out everything she’d learned since Gina had left seven hours earlier. Blackmail. Coercion. Those were just the tip of the iceberg when it came to the treachery Sophia laid out. When she’d finished her tale, Gina’s brain swam in the overwhelming evidence of just how douchey Dr. Harlowe could be.

“You spoke to eight people Harlowe screwed over? Since breakfast?”

Sophia nodded. “I’m trying to get into contact with a handful of others.”

Gina stared above Sophia’s head, contemplating the Christmas garland on a nearby lamppost, wondering if blending into the fake snow on the bushes was an option. “I don’t know—how do I process all of this?”

“Slowly,” Sophia recommended.

“But… I made life decisions based on my conversation with Alex Cross. I ended our relationship because of it. You’re telling me, it was because Harlowe didn’t want me to move to LA? All so I could continue to prop up his flagging career?”

Sophia appeared on the verge of tears. “It seems so.”

“And he threatened to out Alex? Even to his parents?” Gina knew what it was like to lose family over coming out. Anyone who would inflict that on another person wasn’t just a bad guy. Only a heinous villain would behave that way.

Sophia nodded. “Yes, he did.”

“What kind of human being does something like that? He’s always claimed to be a champion of marginalized people, but he was using that against people.” Gina cradled her head with both palms as if needing to keep her head from exploding. Rage swirled inside her, hot and thick like smoke from an inferno. “I can’t process this. I don’t understand how anyone could do such a thing. For something so stupid. He wrecked careers. Lives. For what?”

“Pride,” Sophia replied.

“I feel helpless, and I don’t like it.” Gina balled her fists. “What am I supposed to do with this information?”

The question was mostly rhetorical, but to her surprise, Sophia spoke up. “I have an idea, but you might not like it.”

“Does it involve punching him in the face?” Gina smacked a fist into her other hand. “I’ve never been violent, but I’m willing to give it a try.”

“While I’d love to see that, I have something else in mind. Something that will hit him where it really hurts.”

“Where’s that?”

“His pride, of course.” Sophia’s eyes twinkled, and while Gina wasn’t sure she was following entirely, she sensed there was a double meaning to the words. “But we don’t have a lot of time. If you’re on board with it, we’re going to need to call in some help.”

Intrigued, Gina asked, “Help from whom?”

“Ken Abrams, the head of entertainment at IBC.”

This still didn’t make the plan clear, but the way Sophia’s face lit up with an almost evil glee, Gina trusted it would be worthwhile.

“From what I know, Ken loves ratings, and what I have in mind will be a ratings bonanza. But, before I reach out, I want to ensure you’re okay with taking Harlowe down.”

Without a moment of hesitation, Gina nodded her assent. “I want to take the bastard down.”

Sophia didn’t waste a second, punching at her phone like a possessed woodpecker. “Ken? It’s Sophia Rossi. I need your help with something big.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

The sun beat down on Sophia’s back as the rainbow float she was riding on made its way through the center of downtown Comstock. The crowd that lined the sidewalks waved Pride flags, and several people were calling out her name. She glanced down at the Grand Marshal banner she wore across her chest like a beauty pageant queen. Reaching into a large plastic bag beside her, Sophia grabbed a handful of candy and tossed it into the crowd, eliciting a roar.

“This is unreal,” Sophia said to Jill Davidson, who was beside her on the float. She was nearly yelling to be heard above the noise. “They’re acting like I’m the queen or something.”

“You are the Queen of Christmas, after all,” Jill said, flinging more candy to the onlookers. “And a hometown hero. People like to believe their dreams can come true, and you’re living proof.”

“I’m finally feeling that way.” Sophia fanned the back of her neck as beads of sweat trickled down her skin. “I’m just grateful I don’t have to be dressed like a Christmas queen for this parade. It feels like the Fourth of July. If I never have to wear another parka in the summer again, I’d be happy.”

“Please don’t tell me that’s a deal breaker.” Jill’s tone suggested she was saying this for a reason.

Sophia turned a sharp look on her companion. “Why is that?”

“I might have some news.” Jill continued waving to the crowd, not losing sight of their mission. “IBC is thrilled with how Christmas at Rainbow Falls is turning out.”

“They’d better be,” Sophia joked. “We took Dix’s steaming pile of dog excrement and turned it into gold with Gina’s script and Hattie Dandrige.”

“On time and on budget, no less.” Jill threw candy to the crowd with unbridled exuberance. “I can’t believe we actually wrapped filming last night. I was sure we’d run over by a week, at least.”

“I told you, four weeks is a luxury.” Sophia cast a sideways glance at Jill. “So, what’s this news you thought you might have for me?”

Jill grinned. “IBC wants to offer you a multi-picture deal.”

“Multiple Christmas movies?” Sophia guessed, suddenly understanding why her confession about wearing winter clothing in hot weather might have given the executive producer cause for concern. “I take it they’ll be filming over the summer months.”

“More than likely,” Jill admitted. “Filming in Massachusetts was amazing for the tax credits, but you know Keystone does all of theirs in Canada for a reason.”

“Cheaper labor, wintery scenery, experienced crew,” Sophia listed a few out of the many. “I guess I’m lucky I haven’t sold my condo in Vancouver yet.”

“Your luck’s even better than that,” Jill said, unable to conceal the excitement in her voice. “IBC wants to move beyond just Christmas. We’re thinking a mystery series with you as the star. Think Jessica Fletcher meets Miss Fisher, but with a sexy lesbian as the amateur sleuth.”

“Sexy lesbian, huh?” Sophia tossed two handfuls of candy into the air like they were confetti, laughing as kids—and more than a few adults—scampered into the street to grab the pieces.

“I thought that would get your attention. And hopefully it makes up for having to pretend to be freezing all summer while trying not to swat mosquitoes and sweating through your wool coat and mittens.”

“Honestly? That sounds amazing.” For a change of pace, Sophia threw rainbow beads as the float turned down the stretch of road that would take them along the edge of the Comstock College campus. As her alma mater came into view, Sophia’s eyes filled with tears. Was this all a dream?

“Don’t cry yet,” Jill urged. “I haven’t even told you the best part. Are you ready?”

Sophia pressed a hand to her chest. “I don’t know if I can take more good news. Not in this heat.”

Jill shrugged. “Okay. It can wait.”

“Mean!” Sophia teased, laughing as she pretended to give Jill’s shoulder a slug. “Tell me. I absolutely can not wait another second.”

Before Jill could answer, a screaming horde of college students performed a cheer of sorts in Sophia’s honor.

Jill said to Sophia, “I bet when you were in high school, you never thought you’d be a gay icon.”

Yes, but at what cost? No. She couldn’t let herself think like that. Yes, she and Gina had missed out on that time together—no thanks to Professor Harlowe’s evil meddling—but they would have so many more years together. Focusing on the past would only bring sadness. Sophia was done with sadness. No more crying on Christmas, exhausted and lonely.

The parade came to an end in front of the towering iron gates that marked the main entrance to the campus. Gina’s student Megan helped Jill and Sophia down from the float. As soon as Jill’s feet hit the ground, she said goodbye with a wave, heading off toward a row of vendor tents that had been set up on the college’s central quad. Sophia couldn’t blame her. The smell of carnival style snacks wafted through the air like a whiff of heaven itself.

“Where’s Gina?” Sophia asked, looking all around for her girlfriend and coming up empty. “If I so much as consider grabbing a cotton candy without her, she’ll kill me.”

“She had to take care of some last-minute business before the film premiere,” Megan explained. “She said she’d catch up as soon as she could. In the meantime⁠—”

“There’s my baby!” Sophia’s mom squealed, rushing at her with the rest of Sophia’s family in tow.

“—your mom was looking for you,” Megan finished, not that it was necessary.

Her mom had screamed so loudly Sophia had instinctively raised her shoulders to protect her ears.

“I just remembered I have somewhere else to be.” With that, Megan turned tail and fled.

“Coward,” Sophia whispered, wishing she could do the same. “Mom—dear God, Bella! Are you going to have that baby today?”

Bella stared daggers at Sophia. “If one more person cracks a labor joke, I’m going to punch them. Got me?” She pointed her finger in Sophia’s face, shifting it to her sister Carrie, her father, and her mother in turn. “Dad, let’s find some shade, okay?”

“Of course, my Belladonna,” he said indulgently.

“I wasn’t kidding about the whole labor thing, though,” Sophia said once the coast was clear.

“The baby’s two days late already.” Carrie hefted her shoulders. “I think all of us will be relieved when it comes.”

“As long as it’s not in the middle of the festival.” Sophia grimaced.

“Do you know what we need, ladies?” Sophia’s mom asked.

“A puppy?” Sophia pressed her palms together in supplication, Carrie quickly joining in. “Please?”

“Yes, yes. I know,” their mom said in that pained way of hers, not because she had regrets, aside from the fact her daughters were taller and older, making it harder to inspire fear in them. “I was such a terrible mom because we never had a dog.”

“I would have walked it every day,” Sophia stated emphatically.

“I would have fed it,” Carrie added with a pout.

“And, I’m the Queen of England,” their mother retorted. “No more guilt trips about puppies, or I won’t buy you any fried dough.”

Both Sophia and Carrie mimed zipping their lips shut.

Their mom’s expression grew smug. “That’s what I thought.”

The three of them crossed the lush green lawn, swiveling their heads to take in all the popup tents that lined the edges. Each one was filled with more rainbow-covered merchandise than Sophia had ever seen. But she’d have to come back through later for a closer look. As the breeze stirred, there was something else that had her full attention.

Sophia stopped, taking a deep breath so full of sugar and butter she could taste it in the air. “What’s that smell?”

“Kettle corn,” Carrie answered.

“Fried dough and kettle corn.” Sophia let out a long, contented sigh. “You can’t get more New England than that. I think I’m in heaven.”

“You do seem unusually happy today. What gives?” Carrie studied her sister’s face like she was trying to figure out a riddle.

“It’s Pride.” Sophia wasn’t going to share the good news she’d received from Jill until she had a chance to tell Gina. “I was on a float, and I guess I’m still floating.”

“Man, that was corny.” Carrie nudged Sophia’s side with an elbow. “It’s a good thing Gina writes your dialogue.”

“It really is,” Sophia agreed.

The way the movie worked out, Gina would be penning many more screenplays. The timing of her success couldn’t have been better. Considering what Gina was about to orchestrate, there seemed little chance the tenure committee would vote to approve her request. If anything, they were likely to seek her resignation.

There was bravery, and there was Gina.

She was also speed-walking toward Sophia, waving at her with both arms to get her attention.

“There you are!” Gina wrapped an arm around Sophia’s waist. “You were zoned out there for a second. Everything okay?”

“Just fine,” Sophia assured her, noticing the lines around Gina’s eyes that indicated she was a lot more stressed than she was letting on.

“You’re just in time,” Sophia’s mom chimed in. “I’m buying fried dough.”

“This is pretty much the best day ever, isn’t it?” Sophia said, hoping to put Gina at ease with a kiss to her cheek.

While Sophia’s mom and sister waited in line, she turned to Gina. “Did you get everything you needed to the AV department?”

Gina answered with a nod.

“How are you holding up?” Sophia gave Gina’s arm a squeeze.

“I just want it to be over with.” Gina’s voice was low and shaky, and Sophia wondered how close Gina was to throwing up. If Sophia had been in the same position, she would’ve done so by now, for sure.

“I know, sweetheart,” Sophia soothed. “Soon. In another few hours, Harlowe will get his well-deserved comeuppance.”

“My career will crash and burn, right alongside his.” Gina’s expression was grim but determined. As they’d discussed dozens of times in the past week since Sophia had suggested the plan, it was a necessary risk. No amount of job security was worth letting a monster like Gina’s professor continue to prey on the defenseless as he had for so many years.

Sophia was on the verge of telling Gina about the conversation she’d had with Jill on the float, but one of the students from the Pride committee flagged Gina down.

“I’ve gotta run,” Gina said apologetically.

“What about your fried dough?” Sophia’s mom asked, returning to where they’d been standing, carrying several paper baskets of the steaming, powdered sugar covered confections.

“Can I take it to go?” Gina offered a grateful smile as Sophia’s mom handed her one of the containers. “Thanks, Angie.”

“Good luck,” Sophia called as Gina headed toward the college’s auditorium, where final preparations were going on for the big event. Her stomach tightened as Gina turned and waved. “See you inside.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

The auditorium was packed, and Gina suspected it had more to do with the thousand-dollar raffle prize than anyone dying to see a teaser of Harlowe’s documentary. Not that he wasn’t doing his best to ingratiate himself to every single person in the room, conveniently forgetting he hadn’t created this self-proclaimed masterpiece as a solo project.

Not that it mattered. By the time the night was over, Gina hoped everyone would forget she’d ever had anything to do with the despicable man.

“Gina, come here.” Harlowe motioned for her to join him where he stood with several college administration bigwigs, looking like a turkey getting ready to dazzle everyone with his tail feathers. “This is my assistant, Gina. I wouldn’t have gotten this far without her. She makes the best cup of espresso.” Professor Harlowe laughed, but Gina was relieved to see his two companions, who both knew full well she was an assistant professor, and not his glorified errand girl, didn’t join in. “I’m kidding, of course.”

The lights flickered. Gina couldn’t help but notice the relief on both men’s faces as they knew their time chatting with Harlowe was nearly over. How had Gina missed the looks in the eyes of people dealing with Harlowe all these years? Now, she’d never be able to unsee them.

“It’s time to find your seats for my masterpiece. We’ll talk investment opportunities after, gentlemen. Still plenty of time to get in on the ground floor. This one has Sundance accolades written all over it.” Harlowe was patting himself on the back so much Gina suspected he must be a contortionist. There was no doubt he was counting the money these guys would dole out after the teaser. Hell, he’d probably already chosen the spot on the shelf to display those awards he expected to win.

“I have a good feeling about this,” he said, only addressing Gina directly now that the more important people had gone.

“It’s going to knock everyone’s socks off,” Gina predicted. That much was guaranteed, though not in the way he believed.

The lights dimmed.

Sophia appeared by Gina’s side, holding her hand as they stood pressed together in the packed auditorium. The screen lit up, but instead of the anticipated documentary, Amanda Morgan appeared on the screen.

“Hello, Comstock!” the renowned nighttime anchorwoman spoke to the audience via a live stream from IBC’s New York studio. The audience tittered with surprise, clearly thinking this was all part of the regular schedule of events. “I can’t tell you how honored I am to be here with you tonight.”

Harlowe whipped his head around, searching for Gina. When he caught sight of her, his face was the picture of confusion.

Not fear. Not yet. But that would come soon enough.

Gripping Sophia’s arm a little tighter, Gina gave her one-time mentor a knowing smile, one she hoped would haunt him in his dreams.

“Most of you know Professor Harlowe. He’s one of the few male professors on your campus, so he probably sticks out like a sore thumb, always dressed like a proper gentleman.”

More laughter from the crowd. The professor was certainly well-known for his bow ties and vests. He was possibly the only man Gina had ever met who wore a seersucker suit in the summer without a trace of irony.

“Here’s the thing,” Amanda continued. “You don’t know him like I now do, after conducting twelve interviews with some of Harlowe’s associates. Well, that word isn’t quite right. I think the better word is victims, and once you’ve heard what I have, I think you’ll agree. Shall we get started?” As an uneasy silence descended over the room, Amanda rubbed her hands together in a mixture of anticipation and glee. The screen went a little fuzzy, while the pre-recorded interview segment began to play.

Take down was probably a better term for it.

Gina couldn’t help but feel awe at what could be accomplished in only a week with a powerhouse like Amanda Morgan on the job, and the full blessing and resources of IBC behind her.

Simply amazing.

“Kyle—and, I should say, we’re not using your real name to protect you—can I ask, how did you meet Evan Harlowe?” Amanda directed this question at an unassuming man in his late fifties with thick spectacles.

“We grew up together,” Kyle replied, pulling his hat lower as if afraid to be found out despite the crew’s efforts to keep his face mostly in shadow.

Amanda offered a warm, encouraging smile that immediately seemed to put him at ease. “How far back?”

“Kindergarten.” The man’s body slumped with sadness.

“That’s a long time.”

“It is.” Kyle shifted his gaze downward, his shoulders stooped like the burden of whatever he was about to share was weighing him down.

“When did he start blackmailing you?” Amanda asked gently.

Instantly, Harlowe lunged out of his chair, screaming, “Shut it off! Shut it off!”

Gina tensed, suddenly on the defensive. Even so, she couldn’t deny the burst of triumph that shot through her when Harlowe raced toward the back of the auditorium.

Megan, Destiny, and Kayla stood in the aisle, blocking the professor from getting anywhere near the AV booth. Gina had arranged this with the students in advance, having anticipated this would be Harlowe’s first move.

The man on the screen paused, as if he too had anticipated the outburst. He adjusted his hat, before saying, “Not until he needed something.”

“What did he need?”

“Talent.” Despite his obvious discomfort, Kyle let out a little laugh at his joke, an endearing move that seemed to highlight both his sincerity and his humanity. “I’d made a documentary when I was fresh out of college, but I couldn’t sell it. Evan had contacts, so we joined forces. That is until he decided he wanted to take all the credit.”

“Why?”

“He’s always thought he was better than everyone else. But he reached a point where he needed everyone else to believe it, too.”

Her heart beating faster, Gina whispered into Sophia’s ear, “Is he saying Harlowe didn’t make his first documentary himself?”

Equally wide-eyed, Sophia nodded that this was her understanding, too.

Gina had heard some of the horror stories, but once Ken Abrams had looped in Amanda Morgan to do the exposé, the project had been out of her hands. She was seeing the final result along with the rest of the audience for the very first time. If she’d had any doubt Evan Harlowe would be ruined after this, it was gone now.

He’d be a pariah. And so would she, no doubt, for having worked side by side with him for so long. It wasn’t fair, but she’d come to terms with it the best she could. When a great man fell, it was always the women around him who got blamed for not knowing more, sooner.

At least she could take pleasure in knowing, in the end, she’d been the one to wield the ax.

“Why didn’t you expose Professor Harlowe as the fraud he is?” Amanda asked. “After all, that film went on to win several prestigious awards. They should’ve been yours.”

Kyle’s cheeks blushed crimson. “Because he had something I didn’t want to get out, and he said if I breathed a word about the documentary, he’d release… the thing.”

“By talking to me, though, you’re risking that he still might.”

“I know.” The man covered his face. “I know, but after I heard how many other people had been blackmailed by Evan, I had to speak up.”

At this point, Harlowe tried to push his way past the Pride committee, but they stood firm, not letting him force his way through.

“What did he have?” Amanda continued.

In an instant, the man’s face went from red to almost a greenish hue. “One summer, when we were teenagers, Evan had a party at his house, and I hooked up with someone… a man… and Evan—he got it on video.”

“Evan Harlowe filmed you having sex and kept the tape?”

The crowd gasped, and it was difficult to hear Kyle’s reply of yes.

“How long did he have it until he threatened you?”

“Five years.” Kyle blinked rapidly. “By this point, I was engaged to my wife, and I simply couldn’t bear… She didn’t know I was bi then…” The rest of his answer faded into sobs.

“He waited five years to tell you about its existence?” Amanda asked when Kyle had regained some composure.

“Yes. He waited until he needed something from me. We’d both been film nerds. We dreamed of becoming famous directors. And then, Evan did.”

“It was your first film that launched Dr. Harlowe’s career.”

“Yes. It was also my last film. I never had the stomach for it again after that.”

“He’s lying!” Harlowe screamed, but security was arriving through a side door, and the president of the college was directing them to where the professor stood. Gina was frozen in place, watching like it was all part of a movie being filmed around her. This couldn’t be happening, could it? As they dragged him out of the auditorium, Harlowe continued screaming, “Lies. It’s all lies!”

“I need air,” Gina whispered to Sophia, her throat tight.

They left the auditorium together. Outside, Gina bent over, her hands on her knees.

“You okay?” Sophia asked, placing a hand gently on Gina’s back.

“I might be sick.” In truth, as soon as she said this out loud, she started to feel better, stronger. A moment later, Gina straightened. “How did I not see him for who he was?”

“He’s very charming and cunning.” There was no judgment in Sophia’s eyes or tone, though Gina harbored plenty of it toward herself in her own heart.

“B-but…” Gina could only shake her head, letting the truth wash over her. She’d been used. The man had never blackmailed her, but he’d manipulated her nonetheless, all the while making her think he was an ally. She wasn’t sure which was a bigger betrayal, hers or Kyle’s.

“Professor Mitchells!” As one of the women from the tenure review committee approached, Gina saw her academic life flash before her eyes.

This was it, the end of her career. Gina straightened herself to her full height, lifting her chin. If she was going to go down with this ship, she would do it with dignity. “Dr. Miriam, I would like to apologize⁠—”

“What on earth for?” The woman’s response was swift and surprisingly fierce, and it seemed to Gina she was looking for someone to kick in the shins, or possibly the balls, and experiencing grave disappointment that no one in the immediate vicinity fit the bill. “Harlowe’s the asshole, not you.”

At this point, some people started to stream out of the auditorium, looking dazed. Gina couldn’t blame them. She felt the same.

“Even so,” Gina said, “I know this type of theatrics might reflect poorly on the college. That wasn’t my intention.”

“I couldn’t give a damn.” Dr. Miriam chuckled, presumably because of what Gina knew must be a look of utter shock on her face. “Between you and me, I never liked Harlowe. I couldn’t understand why so many of my peers here at the college fawned over him like a demi-god. If I’m being completely honest, seeing him brought down like that, and by Amanda Morgan, no less? It added ten years to my life.”

“It did?” For the first time since she and Sophia had hatched this plan, Gina began to consider that she might not be sacrificed on the funeral pyre of her mentor’s career.

“We need to talk about some things,” Dr. Miriam said. “Including your upcoming tenure review, but it’s safe to say it’s a lock now. I wouldn’t be surprised if you end up taking over the department sooner than we anticipated.”

“You anticipated… me?” Gina’s head spun. She’d had no clue anyone had been considering her for such a role, even way down the line. If there had been rumors, Professor Harlowe sure as hell had never let on.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I want to see the rest of that film.” With that, the woman went back inside the auditorium.

“Head of the department?” Gina had to say it out loud, and even after she had, she couldn’t believe it.

“Wow.” Sophia’s mouth stayed open, forming an O for a long second before morphing into a grin. Grabbing Gina’s hands, she hopped up and down. “You did it. You got what you wanted!”

“I… I did… I guess.” If that was the case, why did Gina feel so numb?

Sensing it immediately, Sophia asked, “What’s wrong?”

The reality hit her like a blow to the stomach, and it took everything Gina had not to double over. “We’re right back where we were.”

“What do you mean?” Sophia put on a brave face, but she wasn’t fooling Gina.

“Ten years ago. Me, staying on the east coast. You, heading to Hollywood.”

“There’s a big difference, now,” Sophia assured her in a tone that was soft but firm.

“What?” There was a pleading quality to the question. If Sophia had an answer, Gina needed to know.

“We’re older now, and we both know what we want.”

Gina’s heart pounded. “Which is?”

“Each other.” It sounded so simple Gina almost believed that was all there was.

Almost.

“The distance, though,” she began, but Sophia was already shaking her head.

“Yes, it will suck. Not gonna lie. But it will only be for the summers.”

Gina frowned. “What do you mean? I thought for sure, once the film wrapped, IBC would be offering you a massive new contract.”

“Well, they did. Christmas movies filming in Canada over the summer, plus a cozy mystery series that would run the rest of the year.” Sophia bit her lower lip, indecision seeming to weigh on her for a moment. “I’ve decided I’m only interested in the Christmas part. The rest of the time, I want to be here. With you.”

“When did this…? Why didn’t you tell me?” Gina’s thoughts raced as she tried to process what was happening. One thing stood out. She couldn’t let Sophia make that sacrifice. “No, you can’t give up the series. That’s too much.”

“It is not.” Sophia had that look on her face that said don’t you dare argue. Gina knew she’d learned it from Mrs. Rossi, and she would no sooner cross the daughter in this mood than she would the mother. “Ten years ago, you took my choice away from me. I won’t let you do that now. It’s my decision to make, and I choose you. That’s all there is to it.”

“Not so fast,” Gina heard herself saying, suddenly breaking free of the stupor she’d been in since leaving the auditorium. “I was already prepared to lose my job tonight at the college, and become persona non grata in academia as a whole because of my association with Harlowe. You know what? I was at peace with it. This news about tenure doesn’t change that.”

“Gina,” Sophia spoke in barely a whisper, “it’s what you’ve worked for all these years.”

“No, it’s my job,” Gina corrected, the passion building in her chest as she spoke. “A life with you is my dream. I was ready to pack up and head to LA with you before I spoke with Dr. Miriam, and I’m still ready to do it now. Nothing has changed.”

“Do you mean that?” Sophia began to tremble visibly, and Gina rushed to pull her into a tight embrace.

“Absolutely.” Gina’s cheeks grew moist with tears as she held Sophia like she’d never let go. In fact, she had no intention of ever doing so. Not this time.

“Hey, you two. Get a room.” Jill laughed as Gina and Sophia jumped apart. “Are you celebrating the good news about the IBC contract?”

Sophia cleared her throat. “I… that is, I’m not exactly sure about that contract, Jill.” Gina opened her mouth to protest, but Sophia held up a hand to stop her. “It’s just that going back to LA seems like such⁠—”

“Back to LA?” Jill frowned. “Why would you be going back to LA? I thought you wanted to do the mystery series.”

“Yes, I do, but...” It was Sophia’s turn to look confused. Gina, too, was puzzled.

Jill’s eyes widened. “Oh goodness. Didn’t I mention? The mystery series is filming in Massachusetts. Not Sholan Falls, though. Closer to the coast. You’ll be on the east coast, not west.”

“It’s here?” Sophia broke into a grin. “I’d be living here? You mean, Gina could keep teaching at Comstock?”

“Of course,” Jill said, shifting her eyes to Gina. “There’s Canada, but that’s in the summer. Professors get summers off, right?”

Unable to speak, Gina nodded.

“Have you spent a summer in Canada? You’re going to love it.” Jill paused, a calculating look coming over her. “Although, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Oh?” Gina’s stomach tightened.

“It’s this mystery series. I think you’d make an excellent addition to the writing team, if you’d like to give it a shot. It’s going to require some snappy dialogue, and your style suits it perfectly. You’d stay busy, but you should be able to fit it in with your teaching schedule.”

“I’ll make certain of it.” Gina pressed her hand to her chest, her heart beating against it like a kettle drum.

“Great job tonight, Gina,” Jill said before wandering away, leaving Gina and Sophia alone.

“Were you really willing to give up the series for me?” Gina asked, holding her breath as she waited for Sophia to answer. She didn’t have to wait long.

“Of course, I was. I told you I’m not going to lose you again. I would’ve stayed ten years ago, and I sure as heck wasn’t going to leave you now.” Sophia took a deep breath, a shyness settling over her features. “But, would you really have left everything you’ve worked for behind and moved across the country just to be with me?”

“Do you even have to ask?” Gina swallowed a lump that formed in her throat as she thought back to their graduation day. “Ten years ago, I made the biggest mistake of my life. I let someone I shouldn’t have trusted make me think I couldn’t make it on my own. In a way, Harlowe was right about that, but it wasn’t him I needed. It was you. I know that now. I would follow you to the ends of the earth if that’s what it took.”

Sophia giggled, her eyes shining with joyful tears. “As it happens, neither one of us is going anywhere. Just wait until my mom finds out.”

Gina reached for Sophia, pulling her as close as she could, until it felt like they had merged into one. “Am I crazy, or does it seem like everything is finally working out for us?”

Sophia chuckled. “Isn’t it about damn time?”

CHRISTMAS AT RAINBOW FALLS

CHAPTER ONE

Natalie jostled in the stiff seat of her rented Honda as it rattled across the bumpy old boards of the narrow covered bridge that spanned the river outside the village of Smithfield, Vermont. She squinted to capture that first glimpse of mist in the distance, which, when it caught the light right, produced the rainbows that gave the falls their name. The same thrill of anticipation coursed through her as the last time she’d been here, thirty years before.

Christmas in Rainbow Falls—as everyone referred to the area since the town’s official name of Smithfield was about as boring as could be—was a magical experience. At six years old, Natalie had thought she was visiting the real North Pole. Every streetlamp had been festooned with pine garland and red ribbon. Strings of twinkling lights connected all the buildings in downtown, and every store window was filled with wonders that were straight out of Santa’s workshop. The annual Christmas festival had been the highlight of the year.

Her father had been alive then, a recollection that cast a shadow on Natalie’s mood. He’d passed away less than a year after that trip. Mom had remarried a few years later—to a nice guy, Dan, who’d been a great stepdad but was a California native with no ties to the east coast—and despite her best intentions, Natalie had never made it back to Rainbow Falls.

Now it was another death that was responsible for her return.

As the car edged out of the bridge, the glare of sunlight in a clear blue sky momentarily blinded Natalie. When her eyes adjusted, the dullness of reality smacked her hard in the face.

“This can’t be it,” she muttered to herself. Pulling to the side of the road beside a once grand Victorian house in serious need of a coat of paint, Natalie checked the GPS on her phone to ensure she hadn’t made a wrong turn somewhere and the sound on the navigation system had been muted or something like that because the town before her was the exact opposite of every fond childhood remembrance.

What had happened to the Rainbow Falls of her memory?

Despite Christmas decorations already going up in every shopping area back home in San Francisco, there wasn’t a single pine needle or holly berry in sight. The once-majestic brick buildings no longer seemed exciting without the elaborate displays in their now-dingy windows.

Even the autumnal glory associated with fall in Vermont had faded, leaving piles of soggy, brown leaves to clog drains and make a mess of the street after an overnight storm had deposited a mix of rain and slush. Assessing the dismal landscape, Natalie’s spirits dropped even lower than they’d already been. She hadn’t realized that was possible. Had coming here been a mistake?

Natalie was still reeling when her phone rang. After fiddling with the hands-free settings on the unfamiliar vehicle, she managed to get the call to connect.

“Natalie?” her mom’s voice crackled through the car speaker as Natalie eased the car into motion. “You didn’t text me to say you’d arrived safely.”

“That’s because I’m not there yet, Mom,” she replied, lips twitching despite herself at her mom’s utter predictability when it came to worrying about her grown daughter. “Before you say Google told you it would take five hours to drive here from New York, I’m going to say what I always do. A girl’s gotta stop and pee sometimes.”

“How many times?” Even from three thousand miles away, Natalie tensed as her mom sprang into action like an overwound clock. Not that Natalie blamed her. Losing a spouse at such a young age had made her mom paranoid about the health of everyone around her. “You’re only thirty-six. You have a young bladder, so that could be a symptom of⁠—”

“Before you start using your degree from Web MD to diagnose the extra-large Diet Coke I bought at the airport,” Natalie interrupted, “can you double check that the lawyer’s office is actually in Smithfield and not some other town? Maybe it was Sheffield. Or Springfield.”

“I triple checked the address before I sent it. Why?” Her mom’s voice went to chipmunk level, one of the highest points on the concern-o-meter. “Are you lost?”

“No,” Natalie soothed. “Do you remember Rainbow Falls being super festive?”

“I sure do.” Her mom’s fond chuckle, the one she reserved for memories of her late husband, brought Natalie a fresh pang of sadness. “Your dad was so proud of his hometown. He thought it was the most perfect place on earth.”

Natalie blinked back tears, picturing her dad in an LL Bean plaid flannel shirt, carrying her on his shoulders as they went past Kovack’s Department Store. No doubt about it. This was the right place. She remembered the street, and her dad strolling along it, like it was yesterday. He’d always seemed to walk a little taller in this place, but what would he think if he could see it now?

“It’s gone,” Natalie said.

“What is? The lawyer’s office?” Her mom’s register catapulted to the level beyond chipmunk, which Natalie could only describe as a dolphin with a dog whistle.

“I haven’t looked for the office yet.” Natalie pulled her car into one of the many empty spots along the curb, taking in downtown Rainbow Falls once more in disbelief. “It’s so run-down.”

“Is it really that bad? I knew I should have checked the street view, too, before letting you go.”

“There aren’t roving packs of wolves or anything, but it’s nothing like I remember.” Removing the key from the ignition, Natalie grabbed her purse and opened the door to climb out. “The only thing missing is a tumbleweed blowing down the middle of the road with creepy harmonica music in the background.”

“Maybe you should ask someone for directions, in case you got it wrong.” There was no doubt that back in her house in southern California, Natalie’s mom was wringing her hands, making the skin on her fingers an angry, mottled scarlet.

“I don’t see another soul. There are cars here and there, but no people.” Natalie pulled her jacket closer, regretting her lack of hat. Maybe the cold wind was to blame for the chills that ran down her spine, or maybe it was something more sinister. “Did the world end during my flight from San Francisco to New York?”

“Pretty sure we wouldn’t be having this conversation if it had.” As always, her mom took Natalie’s vivid imagination in stride. It was what had made her so good at thinking outside the box as a business consultant for the past ten years.

It was also what had gotten her into a world of trouble at her job when one brilliantly novel idea went catastrophically wrong. Which was why she was here now, instead of at work.

Natalie scoped Main Street again, her heart sinking when she spotted the sign for the lawyer who had contacted her about her aunt’s estate. She was in the right place for sure. And it broke her heart. “There’s not a single Christmas decoration. Not one.”

That was the real problem. The town wasn’t so much run-down as it was lacking heart. It was like the entire place had decided to give up on life, or at least on all the things that made life worth living. Rainbow Falls had become a mere shell of its former self.

“Halloween was only three days ago,” her mom reminded her. “Give them a little time. Usually, you’re the one scolding people for skipping over Thanksgiving and putting their decorations up too early.”

“Are you sure it’s only been three days?” Disoriented, Natalie placed her fingers against her temples. If her mom was correct, that meant it had only been a week since her work on the Rumsford campaign had gone sideways and Alex, her boss, had called her into his office for that little talk that had led her here.

It felt like a year.

“Are you sure you want to be alone?” her mom asked. “After… well, with this unexpected sabbatical, that is.”

“Is that what we’re calling it?” Still leaning against her open car door, Natalie choked back a bitter laugh. After her client had been roasted alive on social media for the risky campaign she had encouraged, her boss, Alex, had strongly suggested she take her banked vacation time, all nine weeks of it. Effective immediately. Somehow sabbatical wasn’t the first word that had popped into Natalie’s head.

“If I’d had any idea you’d have so much time off, Dan and I would never have booked the trip to Japan without you.”

“It wasn’t exactly planned,” Natalie muttered, her shoulders tightening. If she kept thinking about the precariousness of her career, she’d be able to earn her living in a circus as a human pretzel.

“Once you settle things with your aunt Pam’s lawyer, why don’t you head here to Orange County, and you can fly to Japan with us to visit Boyd and Gracie?” Her mother said this like it wouldn’t cost an arm and a leg, and with a hopefulness that belied the fact Natalie had already shot down the suggestion half a dozen times in the past week. “You haven’t seen your brother in years.”

“Because he moved to Japan,” Natalie pointed out, not bringing up the part about how she and her stepbrother weren’t exactly close. Natalie knew nothing good could come of going down that road. She’d end up in a spiral of doubt and self-loathing, probably because Boyd had everything a person could want out of life, and it had all seemed to come without him even trying.

A wife. A new baby on the way. A job he loved.

It was everything Natalie wanted, too. Despite her best efforts, it was looking like she was oh-for-three. At thirty-six years old, she was on the brink of unemployment, her lease was about to expire, and the closest she came to romance was watching Hallmark Christmas movies.

She didn’t even have a cat.

“You have all this time now,” her mom persisted, bringing Natalie out of her head and into the awareness that she was still standing beside the open car door despite being within yards of her destination in the bitter cold. “If the town is as desolate as you said, I don’t want you spending the holidays all by yourself. Maybe I should cut the trip short.”

“Mom, stop being ridiculous. I’ll be fine. You have a two-month trip planned to meet your new grandchild. I’d say that takes precedence over a grown daughter who’s having a bad week at work.” Natalie shut the door and locked it, setting her sights on the front of the law office with renewed determination. All she had to do was walk across the street and through the door. Despite her fragile state, even she couldn’t screw that up. “If I really am Aunt Pam’s only heir, then surely I can stay a few weeks at her old apartment above the bookshop while I figure out what to do next.”

“Are you sure, buttercup?”

“Buttercup?” Natalie snorted at the juvenile endearment. Way to make her feel even more breakable than she already did.

“I used to call you that all the time,” her mom protested.

“When I was three! You really must think things are dire if you’ve gone back to calling me childish nicknames,” Natalie grumbled. “Look on the bright side. I’ll have an unlimited supply of reading materials at my fingertips.”

“If we didn’t have non-refundable tickets⁠—”

“Mom!” Natalie barked. “It’s okay. I’m okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Why can’t I stop saying okay?

Probably because deep down, she didn’t believe it was true.

“You’re the one telling me Rainbow Falls has turned into a slum,” her mom argued.

“It’s not a slum. It’s just tired.” So was she, of this conversation, of worrying about her future, and of always feeling like she was fighting tooth and nail to get ahead only to keep falling behind. “Look, Mom, I saw some movement in the window at the lawyer’s office. I gotta run.”

“Call me later!” her mom demanded.

“Will do. I love you.”

“I love you, buttercup.”

Natalie couldn’t help laughing. At least her mom was still corny as ever. That had to count for something, right?

Crossing the street, down which not a single car had traveled the entire time she’d been standing there, Natalie approached the door to the office with a sign painted on the window that read Maxwell Baker, Attorney at Law. She expected a lobby with a receptionist but instead found herself in a small room filled with filing cabinets and bookcases. A man sat at the office’s only desk, wearing jeans and a thick pullover sweater.

He looked up as the door opened, offering a smile as soon as he made eye contact. “Natalie Dunbar?”

“Yes, that’s me.” Natalie hesitated, not entirely squaring the man in front of her with the mental image of a lawyer in a dark suit and tie that she’d gained from years of watching Law and Order reruns on television. “Mr. Baker?”

“Call me Max.” Rising from his desk, he put his hand out to shake. “I’m so sorry about your aunt. Everyone in town adored her.”

Natalie nodded, baffled as her eyes flooded and threatened to spill over. It had been three months since the woman’s passing, and it wasn’t like she and her aunt had been super close. Aside from the occasional phone call and yearly Christmas cards, the most time she’d spent with her father’s older sister was during the brief period when Aunt Pam and her partner, Meg, had relocated to Palm Springs while Meg was undergoing cancer treatment.

The treatments had ultimately been unsuccessful, and Aunt Pam had returned to Vermont shortly after Meg’s death. That had to have been fifteen years ago, shortly after Natalie had come out as queer herself—which had established somewhat of a bond between them, though hardly enough to be named in her will. It was ancient history, yet here she was on the verge of public tears over the loss, and set to inherit everything her aunt had left behind.

“Your letter said my aunt left me her apartment and the bookshop?” Despite knowing full well that was what had been in the letter, Natalie asked this as a question, perhaps because it still felt so surreal.

“That’s right,” Max confirmed. “She owned half the building at 351 Main Street, which includes retail space on the ground floor and an apartment above. The money in her checking account along with most of her personal effects were given to charity, but she left the money in the business account, plus the shop’s inventory and all the furnishings, both upstairs and down, to you.”

“Goodness.” Natalie drew a shaky breath, overwhelmed to hear it all laid out for her. “It’s a lot to take in.”

Max offered her a kind look. “Would you like to head over and see the place?”

“Yes please.”

While Max slid on his coat, Natalie pulled her arms across her body as if to lend herself some support. Any other time, she would have dealt with this type of thing in stride. She was a smart businesswoman, used to making decisions on the fly.

In fact, when she’d first learned of the inheritance, she hadn’t even planned to come to Vermont in person, intending to oversee the sale of the property over the phone. But with the blow to her ego from losing big on the Rumsford debacle, getting every detail of her aunt’s estate right had taken on a new importance.

Natalie desperately needed a check mark in the win column.

Max led the way across the street to a two-story building with white clapboard siding, bright blue trim, and old-fashioned corbels painted a similar shade of red to the taller brick buildings it was nestled between. A bright blue and red striped awning spanned the width of the front, jutting out to provide covering for one wide window in the middle and two doors located on either side.

Natalie pondered the two signs—one for Rainbow Books and the other for a bakery and café called Rainbow Sprinkles—that conflicted with her childhood memories. “Where did that bakeshop come from? I could’ve sworn the whole thing used to be Rainbow Books.”

Max led her to the door on the right, unlocking it and motioning for her to go ahead. “You’re remembering correctly. Back when Pam and Meg were running the place together, it was all one shop. But when your aunt returned from her time in California alone, she divided the property and sold half. That’s when the cafe went in.”

Natalie sneezed as her feet kicked up a cloud of dust from the floor. Mustiness hung in the air almost as thick as the cobwebs that dangled from the light fixtures, and Natalie’s spirits sank. “What happened to this place? It looks like it’s been closed a hundred years.”

“Not quite that long, but the past year or two, your aunt didn’t have the energy to open the shop much, let alone keep things neat and tidy like she used to.”

“I feel terrible I didn’t come visit earlier,” Natalie said with a heavy sigh. “She never breathed a word to me or my mom about being sick or needing any help.”

Max nodded, his expression sympathetic. “No, that wasn’t her style. An independent Yankee, right to the very end.”

Natalie responded with a wistful smile as she made a closer inspection of the shop, which underneath the layer of grime was surprisingly well-stocked. Her business brain kicked into gear as she tried to estimate what a shop of this size made in a typical year. “Does the town miss this place? I remember it always being packed.”

“They sure do. Of course, with only half the square footage”— he rapped his knuckles on the hollow wall, disturbing a cobweb—“it doesn’t take many shoppers to reach capacity. Shall I show you the apartment upstairs?”

Natalie’s eyes darted to the ceiling, and a shiver passed through her. Belatedly, it occurred to her to wonder where the nearest hotel was. Her plan had been to stay on site, but if the shop was in such disarray, she could only imagine what the living quarters were like.

“I’d better have a look,” Natalie replied, steeling her nerves. She needed to stay positive. A good old-fashioned scrubbing with something clean and lemon-scented could work wonders on just about anything. Including her attitude.

The steps groaned with their weight, but the higher they climbed, the closer Natalie felt to her father as she recalled how he’d bounded down that same staircase every morning during their visit, ready to conquer the world. She swiped a tear from her cheek, grateful the light was too dim for Max to see.

As Natalie walked through the open door behind the lawyer, a wave of nostalgia wafted over her like the scent of sugar cookies that seemed to fill the air, along with gratitude at discovering the space was much neater than the shop below. She wasn’t only happy about it for herself. The possibility that her elderly aunt had been living in squalor, too proud to reach out for help, was enough to keep Natalie up all night. What a relief to discover her fears were unfounded.

Natalie crossed to one of the front windows, pushing aside a lace curtain and spying a tall white church steeple, the quintessential landmark of every New England town. She wasn’t the overly spiritual type, but at that moment, Natalie felt the presence of both her father and aunt giving her thumbs-ups.

She breathed in deeply, and this time, the scent of baking cookies was too pronounced to be a memory. “Is that a candle or something? It smells delicious.”

Max took a deep breath and chuckled. “I imagine that’s Celeste, whipping up something delectable. She’s a wonder with the baked goods.”

“That will be dangerous for my waistline.”

“I can attest to that.” Max patted his own belly. “Anyway, let me show you around the place. This is the main living area. Through there is the kitchen.” Max wheeled about, pointing down a separate hallway. “Over there’s the bedroom and⁠—”

“It’s okay,” she interrupted, suddenly eager to be alone so she could rest and take it all in. “My memories of the place are surprisingly vivid. I think I know my way around.”

He pressed his hands together. “In that case, can I help you bring your luggage up?”

It nearly made her laugh, given he was her aunt’s lawyer and not a bellhop, but it was a reassuring reminder that no matter how the town had changed in appearance, the people were still nice, always willing to help out.

“I didn’t bring much,” Natalie assured him, “and right now, after all the travel, what I really want to do is sink into a bubble bath before I roll up my sleeves and get to work.”

“How long do you think you’ll stay?”

“I’m not expected back in San Francisco until after Christmas.” At which point, Natalie fully expected to get fired, but she kept that knowledge to herself. “I appreciate your help.”

“Any time. Why don’t we have lunch later this week, once you’re settled in, to go over some things?” He started for the stairwell. “If you need anything, you have my number. Pam would kick my butt into the next century if I didn’t help out her favorite niece.”

“I was her only niece,” Natalie felt compelled to add, but she laughed and waved goodbye, her spirits brighter than they’d been when she first arrived.

After going to the car for her two suitcases and unpacking, Natalie surveyed the apartment. It was tastefully decorated with the antique furniture she remembered her aunt had loved, but not too fussy. If anything, charming was the best word to describe it – and cozy, too.

“If I remember correctly…” Natalie spoke out loud to herself in a low voice as she rested her hand on an ornate brass knob that was definitely original to the circa-1890s architecture. “I believe the bathroom is this door here.”

She turned the knob and stepped across the marble threshold onto a black and white tile floor. Right at the moment it registered that the light in the bathroom was already on, Natalie was met with a screech and a frantic splashing of water.

Natalie froze.

“Who the hell are you?” snapped a voice tinged with either anger or panic. Possibly both.

It came from a woman Natalie had never seen before in her life, who was reclining in the bathtub, bubbles up to her chin. Her face was slathered in a green facial mask, and she had a cucumber slice covering one eye. It took Natalie a second to realize the other must have plopped into the water when the woman lurched upward, only to slip back down under the protection of the bubbles.

Exactly half a second later, Natalie became uncomfortably aware that under the bubbles, the woman was naked. Before she could fully process why this was happening, a sponge dripping with suds came hurtling through the air and smacked her in the face. With a yelp, Natalie jumped backward and closed the bathroom door. A bolt clicked into place, locking her out of the only bathroom in the apartment.

What the Frosty the Snowman was going on here?

CHAPTER TWO

“Isn’t the new day a glorious thing?” Celeste’s best friend and part-time bakery assistant, Annie, twirled around on her tippy-toes in the middle of the kitchen, clutching a massive plastic bin she’d carried inside with two mittened hands.

Celeste continued to pour the ingredients for a batch of maple walnut scones into the industrial mixer, determined to ignore the woman’s idiocy. It was nearly freezing out, and the sun hadn’t come up yet. How anyone could be in such a chipper mood under these circumstances was a mystery Celeste doubted she would ever solve.

To make matters worse, she hadn’t slept a wink. After nearly being accosted by a total stranger in her own bathtub, was it any wonder?

As Annie set the bin down and peeled the mittens from her fingers, her rosy-cheeked expression turned from jubilant to slightly perturbed. “You’re even grumpier than usual.”

Celeste banged a wooden spoon extra hard against the mixer’s oversized mouth, sending a cloud of white flour into the air. It settled onto her brown skin and dark black hair like a dusting of snow. “I’m not grumpy.”

Annie’s eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong? Why are you in such a bad mood?”

“Why are you in such a good mood?”

The best way to handle Annie when she was being insufferably happy was to get her to talk about whatever good thing had transpired to put her in that state. There was always something. Annie was the closest a human could come to being a cartoon princess, one step away from being followed by songbirds and happy forest creatures.

“If you must know, Phil surprised me last night with my favorite pizza.” Annie beamed as she chattered, an excellent sign. Once the perky former cheerleader got started telling a story, Annie could be tuned out and Celeste could get back to work, as long as Celeste offered a few well-placed uh-huhs and nods to keep her friend talking.

“Pepperoni?” Celeste didn’t need to ask, but it helped keep up the pretense. She reached for a fresh bag of sugar, running through the recipe that resided firmly in her memory, alongside almost everything her mother had taught her to bake.

“We watched not one, but two Hallmark Christmas movies, and he didn’t complain once.” The way Annie said this, it was clear she considered her husband to be just shy of sainthood for that accomplishment. Celeste would have been hard-pressed to argue. He’d have to be to put up with that much drivel in one sitting.

“How can you enjoy that stuff?” Celeste wrinkled her nose. “It’s total fantasy.”

“That doesn’t mean it couldn’t happen.” Any second now, Annie would probably burst into a song and dance routine, perhaps joined by a chorus of animated rabbits in bow ties. Could anyone really be so upbeat all the time?

“Newsflash, most women don’t want to throw their big city life down the drain for a man wearing flannel.” Celeste flipped the switch, sending the mixer into a whir of motion.

“What if it was a woman wearing flannel?” Annie countered.

“The principle remains the same.” Boy, did Celeste know that firsthand. It wasn’t just big city women, either. Even ones from medium-size suburbs balked at the prospect of relocating to a one-horse town like Smithfield. Which was why Celeste had to get out of this place. Like yesterday.

“What about the woman you met on that dating app?” Annie asked. “Shelley, wasn’t it?”

“If you’re referring to Michelle, that was a year ago.” And there was little more to say about it. The romance had fizzled three weeks in when Michelle’s car had popped a tire on the two-hour drive from Burlington.

More proof that long distance relationships were for the birds.

“You need to get out there more—” Annie stopped short when Celeste let out a frustrated groan. Annie crossed her arms, tilting her head to one side as she waited for her grumpy friend to let her finish. “All I’m saying is you won’t find Ms. Right if you don’t make an effort.”

“Are you aware that for a lesbian, there’s not so much a dating pool in Smithfield as a rapidly evaporating puddle? The only other one I can think of was Pam next door, and she went and died.”

Which Celeste did feel bad about, for the record. But still, a good point was a good point, even if it was in slightly poor taste to make it so soon after the woman’s death.

“First of all—” Annie drew a breath and put on her lecturing expression—“no one who’s from here calls it Smithfield.”

“Exactly. I’m not from here.” Not that Celeste should need to remind her friend of this fact, considering they’d been in the same high school graduating class after her mother had dragged her from New York City to rural Vermont right before her senior year.

“Of course, you’re from here,” Annie argued. “Where else would you be from? The whole town loves you.”

“The whole town loves my bakery, which is not the same thing,” Celeste was quick to amend. “They love my scones and cookies, and that’s that.”

“They loved your mother. And they love you, too.” Tears sparkled in Annie’s eyes, prompting a rush of moisture to Celeste’s own, which she blinked away rapidly to avoid detection. It had been almost a year since her mother’s death, and sometimes it felt like the hurt was still as raw as the day it had happened.

Another reason Celeste longed for a fresh start.

“What happened in those movies you and Phil watched?” Celeste asked, careful not to give voice to what was really on her mind. Though Celeste had put feelers out to a few Realtors in the area, she wasn’t ready to tell Annie about her plans to sell the shop. Not yet. Especially since the likelihood of finding a buyer for only one half the building was slim. “Did they end with a happily ever after?”

“You know what I don’t get?” Annie screwed up her face, oblivious to Celeste’s question. “With a name like Rainbow Falls, this place should become a gay mecca.”

“This may come as a shock,” Celeste responded with mock seriousness, “but this town is not a mecca of any kind, gay or otherwise. I can try to lodge a complaint about it at the next secret meeting we all have to discuss the Gay Agenda, but until then, I don’t think it’s likely to change.”

“You need to put yourself out there,” Annie scolded, obviously unwilling to give up on Celeste’s love life without a fight. “You don’t want to end up alone.”

“But I don’t want to put myself out there even more,” Celeste replied, the very thought of it exhausting her. “I don’t like people. Last night, someone crashed my bath, of all things. Fifteen years of Mom and I sharing that one Jack and Jill bathroom with the unit next door, and there was never a single incident until now.”

Doing a double take straight out of a cartoon, Annie treated Celeste to beeping noises like a truck backing up. “You’re gonna need to rewind, my friend. Are you serious there was someone in your bathroom?”

“Yes.” Already Celeste regretted bringing it up. The incident was bizarre, and she hadn’t intended to share, but it was too late now. “A woman burst in⁠—”

“And you say nothing ever happens in Rainbow Falls.” Annie pressed a finger to her lips, clearly mulling the situation over in her mind. “Was she pretty? Single?”

“I was naked!” Celeste protested. “I didn’t stop to find out.”

“Naked, huh?” Annie’s suggestive wink would have made a porn star blush. Celeste had a feeling she would never live this down. “The story grows more interesting by the minute. Do you have any idea who she is or what happened to her?”

“She stayed on her side, so beyond that, I couldn’t care less what happened to her. She left the bathroom, and I turned the bolt on her door, along with locking every other door between my unit and hers. After that, I called Max Baker to ask him what the heck was going on. Turns out the woman is Pam’s niece. She’s staying here while she closes up the bookshop.”

“She’s closing it?” Annie’s eyes widened, and she clapped a hand over her mouth. “Did Max tell you that?

“No, but…” Celeste tried to come up with an alternative explanation to the woman’s presence and came up short. “Why else would she be here?”

“To fix it up! Rainbow Books is an institution. I’m sure you must be mistaken.” Annie closed her eyes, her lips quivering as if offering a quick prayer to that effect. “But, back to our earlier conversation⁠—”

“I’m not going on another online date,” Celeste interjected before her friend managed to talk her into it in that way she sometimes had. “Forget it.”

“I know what you’re doing. Your bluster doesn’t fool me.”

“What am I doing? Other than overworking the scones?” Celeste switched off the mixer before the batch was ruined. As much as she loved having her best friend around and appreciated her lending a hand now that she was on her own, it wasn’t always great for her productivity.

“You want to be happy, but since you aren’t, you shield yourself with this”—Annie waved a hand, encompassing all of Celeste from head to toe—“Grinchyness.”

Celeste raised an eyebrow. “Is that a word?”

“If it isn’t, it should be. But it doesn’t matter, because it’s all a lie.”

“Oh, is it?” Celeste sucked in her cheeks, determined not to let her friend catch her in the act of being amused.

“It is. You, my darling Celeste, are as sweet as the cookies you bake. Someday soon, the right woman will come along and realize it, too. I can feel it in my bones.” Annie held out an arm, pushing up her sleeve. “See? I have goose bumps. It’s a sign.”

“It’s November in Vermont. Everyone has goose bumps. It’s freezing outside.” Celeste emptied the slightly sticky dough onto her floured work surface and reached for the rolling pin.

Annie’s lips puckered. “I’ll make you a bet. The next woman who walks through that door is your soulmate. If she isn’t, I’ll eat one hundred sugar cookies on Christmas Eve.”

“As much as I appreciate your sacrifice, what do I get out of this bet?”

“Your soulmate.” Annie threw her hands into the air. “I thought that part was clear.”

Celeste couldn’t resist blowing a raspberry at her friend’s romantic nonsense. “The only woman who’s going to walk in here this early is Mrs. Howard, demanding a lemon scone in that grating way of hers, even though she knows I don’t have them on the menu this time of year. Mrs. Howard is most assuredly not my soulmate.”

“Wanna bet?” Annie crossed her arms.

“About Mrs. Howard?” Celeste chose the correct size of fluted metal circles from her stash of cutters and began pressing it into the soft dough to form individual scones.

“About my premonition.” Annie stamped her foot, making Celeste laugh. “You think I’m joking, but my grandmother’s cousin was from Ireland and had the second sight. I can sense things sometimes, and right now, I’m sensing a big change coming your way.”

“You’re insufferable today.” Celeste began transferring the scones to a baking sheet lined with parchment. “I need to have a talk with Phil. Clearly, letting you watch stupid movies all night is ruining your perspective on life. True love and soulmates are for fairytales.”

As Celeste put the pan of scones into the oven, the bells on the cafe door tinkled. Annie let out a squeal. The new arrival turned out not to be the dreaded Mrs. Howard after all. But as Celeste recognized the newcomer from the bathroom intrusion the night before, she would have given anything for the opportunity to be yelled at by an old lady with a penchant for year-round lemon scones.

“I told you,” Annie flashed a triumphant grin. “My premonitions are never wrong. That could be the woman of your dreams.”

“More like my nightmares,” Celeste muttered, weighing whether she could get away with slipping into the storage room out of sight.

Too obvious. She was stuck.

“We’re not open,” Celeste told the woman who had caused her to wake in a sweat at the prospect of being barged in on in the middle of the night. Although in the faint glow of morning sunlight, she was less a vision of terror and more… well, prettier.

“Yes, we are.” Annie tossed Celeste a shut your trap glare.

“It’s you.” The woman—whose name was Natalie, at least according to the lawyer, not that they’d found time to be introduced—squinted at her. “I think it is, anyway. I’ve never seen you with clothes on. What happened to your green face paint?”

As Natalie laughed at her own joke, Celeste gripped the hem of her apron and squeezed her hands into fists. She hated when people thought they were God’s gift to comedy. Even when the laugh itself was pleasant, like the sweet tinkling of a bell. “It was an avocado mask. I wasn’t expecting company.”

The woman took a step back, embarrassment making her cheeks go flush, which instantly made her blue eyes sparkle. The contrast with her sandy blonde bangs was—frankly something Celeste didn’t need to spend another second thinking about.

“I’m really sorry about last night,” Natalie stammered. “I didn’t realize you lived in the other half of the apartment. When I was a kid, Pam had the entire floor.”

“Yeah, well⁠—”

“It’s okay. Things like that happen all the time in Rainbow Falls.” Annie stressed the word Rainbow, no doubt for Celeste’s benefit like it was code for some sort of cosmic sapphic convergence. Did her friend honestly think that crazy premonition was true?

“What’s with the head scarf?” Celeste pointed to the bright red piece of fabric with white polka dots that covered most of Natalie’s head. “It’s unusual to find someone rocking a Hollywood starlet vibe in Smithfield.”

Though she usually didn’t care for laughing at her own jokes any more than she liked it in others, Celeste indulged herself in a hearty guffaw this time because she’d delivered a real zinger. Then she wished she could make herself disappear. She’d sounded like a braying donkey. Natalie would surely think she was an idiot.

But, why did she care?

“You kept the bathroom door locked all night.” Natalie’s tone was not exactly accusatory, but it was leaning in that direction. Whether she also thought Celeste was an idiot was unclear, but the odds were not in Celeste’s favor. “I had to use the half-bath down in the bookshop for… well, never mind what for.”

Celeste laughed again, unable to stop herself despite sounding even more donkey-like than the last time. What exactly had this stranger tried to accomplish in a half bath that was so embarrassing it made her blush at the memory? What else would make the woman blush? Because it was a really good look on her.

Celeste had to stop thinking like that. Now.

“I’ve been traveling for days. I’d like a shower.” Natalie’s tone inched closer to adversarial. Meanwhile, Celeste’s imagination went wild at the word shower, and now Celeste’s cheeks were the ones burning with the intensity of a supernova.

“Where’d you come from?” Annie asked, clearly intent on prolonging Celeste’s awkward agony as long as possible.

“San Francisco.”

Annie’s eyebrows shot all the way to her hairline, and there was no mistaking the kinds of conclusions her romance-soaked brain was busy jumping to after that response.

Celeste’s jaw muscles tensed. “I’ll go upstairs now and unlock the bathroom door.”

“Thank you.” The woman sounded relieved, making Celeste feel guilty for locking it all night.

Celeste turned on one heel, passing through the storeroom and outside to the back staircase without another word. She stomped up the stairs, too perturbed to be bothered by the cold, and unlocked her apartment door with the keys she kept in her pocket. Crossing the space, she unbolted the lock to the bathroom and left again without bothering to see if Natalie had gained access to the room from the other side.

Back downstairs, Annie was waiting for her next to the storeroom door, grinning like a fool. “I told you this was a magical day.”

“Oh, no you don’t.” Celeste was not addressing her friend, but the owner of the small, furry black paw that was reaching through the not-quite-closed back door. Waving her arms, she shooed the cat outside, casting one quick glance at the secret bowl behind the stairs she kept filled with kibble. It would need to be refilled soon, but she would wait until Annie was occupied. No one needed to know about Celeste’s soft spot for the stray, least of all Annie, who would no doubt read way too much into it.

When Celeste came back in, Annie was in the front of the shop, busily rummaging through the plastic bin she’d brought in earlier. Pine garland spilled out all over the floor, and it didn’t take a mind reader to know her friend planned to start decking the halls any minute. Singing carols, no doubt. Well, Celeste had no intention of joining in; that was for sure.

Annie stopped taking decorations out of the box and treated her friend to a quizzical look. “So, your new neighbor, Natalie—that’s her name, by the way. I asked since I figured you hadn’t bothered to.”

Celeste crossed her arms. “I know her name. Max told me.”

“He did?” Annie appeared slightly deflated by this revelation. “Did he tell you she was from the gayest city on earth?”

“I know where you’re going with this,” Celeste cut in, “and that’s not how it works. Queerness doesn’t spread through an entire population because of something in the water.”

“Maybe not, but my gaydar has been pinging since I got out of bed this morning.”

“Okay, assuming gaydar was a real thing, which it isn’t”—Celeste washed her hands at the sink, eager to get back to work”—that’s not remotely how it would work. It’s not a carbon monoxide detector that goes off when a new gay person crosses the town line.”

Annie’s lower lip jutted out in a pout. “I’ve already explained I’m sensitive to things that are beyond the human eye. Besides, I knew my nephew was gay twelve years before he came out to all of us.”

“You and the rest of Smithfield,” Celeste said with a snort. “That boy came out of the womb singing show tunes.”

“I’m not even going to dignify that stereotype with a reply.” A timer buzzed in the kitchen, and Annie looked relieved for a chance to change the subject, since Celeste was clearly right. “Scones are done.”

Celeste grabbed her oven mitts. “Did you get that from the timer going off, or was that another one of your eerie premonitions?”

“Mock me all you want, Celeste Wagner. But mark my words. With Natalie’s arrival, your life changed for the better.” With that, Annie turned her attention back to the bin of decorations before Celeste could get in another cutting retort.

While Celeste knew that Annie’s premonitions were a bunch of bunk, the more she pondered it, the more she thought Annie was right. Not in the way her friend wanted to be, of course. Celeste’s new neighbor was no more her soulmate than that black cat in the alley. But she’d put her big city life on hold to settle her aunt’s affairs. That meant she was probably as motivated to sell as Celeste was. And finding a buyer for the whole building instead of half would be a piece of cake. At least that was what Greg, the most recent Realtor Celeste had consulted, had told her.

This Natalie woman might be holding the key to Celeste’s future after all.

“You know what you should do?” Annie popped her head up from the bin, a pine garland wrapped around her neck like a scarf. “You should bring Natalie some of your mother’s famous apple strudel.”

“You know what? You’re right. It’s the least I can do.”

After a pause for a punchline that didn’t come, Annie squealed with delight as she spun in circles the same way she had when she’d first entered the shop. Celeste’s heart clenched as she considered her motivation for making friends with the woman next door. Leaving this sleepy town to pursue a future was the right move, but it wouldn’t make saying goodbye to her one true friend any easier.

CHAPTER THREE

“Where to start?” Natalie stood in the middle of the old bookshop, a can of Pledge dusting spray in one hand and an old cloth in the other. Though her hair was freshly washed, the polka dot scarf was back in place in anticipation of a full day of manual labor. Now that she’d gotten herself clean, it was time to do the same for the store.

Natalie’s eyes surveyed the space, trying to reconcile her rosy childhood memories with the current reality of dusty shelves and drabness. Something felt different, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. The shop felt so much smaller. Of course, Natalie had been six years old the last time she saw it. She was a grown-up now, and it was a general rule that everything from childhood felt smaller. Plus, the shop really was half the size it had been back then. Even so, Natalie couldn’t shake the sensation that something important was gone.

Maybe it was her aunt’s presence she was missing.

After a long sigh, Natalie took a breath and choked on a lungful of mustiness. She scurried to the back door, propping it open to let in some fresh air. A black cat with a white button at his throat wandered in as if the door had been opened for him.

“Hello there.” Natalie watched as the cat, ignoring her completely, wandered down the center aisle, rubbing his back and sides along everything he passed. Reaching the front window, he arched his back and curled up in a sun puddle next to a display of seasonal Valentine’s books that was so hopelessly out of date it was almost time to put them out again.

“Make yourself at home,” Natalie told the cat, who still did not acknowledge her presence but gave his back legs a stretch in a way that indicated he had every intention of doing exactly that.

Turning her back to the uninvited guest, Natalie started working on the nearest set of bookshelves. She sprayed the cloth and couldn’t resist sucking in the citrusy smell, setting off a tingling in her nostrils. “There’s nothing like the scent of lemon cleaning products to brighten up even the dingiest of places.”

She hadn’t realized she’d said this out loud, but apparently, she had because the black cat lazily got to his feet, spun around, and promptly fell back asleep with his head facing away from Natalie, an obvious repudiation of her chattiness.

“Tough crowd.”

There was a rap on the glass front door, and for a brief moment, Natalie thought it was the cat lodging yet another complaint, but then she spied a familiar face peering in. Deep, dark eyes set against light brown skin made Natalie’s heart jump.

Fear, she told herself as she moved toward the door, though it didn’t feel like fear. Yes, her new neighbor had a prickly personality that, while appropriate in the shop’s recently arrived feline, was a lot less fun to deal with in a human. Even so, Natalie couldn’t remember any time in the past when the prospect of a less-than-pleasant encounter set her pulse racing in quite the same way it was now.

Deciding to ignore the thumping in her chest and whatever it implied, Natalie unlocked the shop door. “Yes?”

“I come in peace.” The woman—whose name Natalie still did not know— held a rainbow pastry box in the air as a literal peace offering. “I brought coffee.” She raised her other hand, showcasing two travel mugs in a cardboard tote. The name Rainbow Sprinkles was sprawled in multi-colored cursive on the sides of the cups, with a cute cartoon depiction of sprinkles that was completely at odds with the impression Natalie had of the shop’s owner.

“Is that the name of your cafe?” Natalie took one of the travel cups and held it up when her neighbor gave her a quizzical look. “Rainbow Sprinkles?” Yes, she’d seen the name before, but it was difficult to jibe with the woman before Natalie.

“It was my mother’s idea,” the woman explained, a hint of pain wrinkling the corners of her eyes. “The shop was her dream. I’ve been running it since her death last year.”

“I’m so sorry.” Internally, Natalie wondered if it would ever be possible to have a single conversation with this woman that wasn’t awkward, sad, confrontational, or all of the above. So far, it looked unlikely. Determined to try, Natalie offered her free hand in greeting. “I’m Natalie Dunbar, by the way.”

“I guess we haven’t been formally introduced. I’m Celeste Wagner.” As she shook Natalie’s hand, the frown eased on the woman’s face, replaced by a smile that was tentative but not forced, like her lips couldn’t quite remember what they were supposed to do but were willing to give it a try.

“I feel awful—” Celeste stopped short, leaving Natalie to wonder if she should call 911. Had that pained expression moments earlier been a warning sign of a heart attack or stroke? But then the woman finished the statement with, “about things.”

Which didn’t really clear the air, although Natalie was at least reassured an ambulance would not be needed. While the seconds ticked by, the woman stared expectantly at Natalie as if what she’d said was the end of everything that needed saying, as opposed to having set off more questions in Natalie’s mind than answers.

What things did Celeste feel awful about? Locking Natalie out of the bathroom? Or maybe she’d slipped poison into the coffee. Natalie cast a worried glance at the cheerful rainbow cup and suppressed a shudder.

Not knowing what else to do, other than beg for an antidote if her body started to get all numb and tingly, Natalie pointed to two chairs in the kid’s section. “Would you like to sit?”

“Please.” If Celeste felt silly sitting underneath a life-size cutout of a North Pole elf that was probably still up from last Christmas, she didn’t show it. Unless the particular frown she was now wearing was reserved for this situation in particular, and not just because everything about life seemed to leave her vaguely disappointed.

It was a shame. At the risk of sounding like a creep, Natalie truly did think Celeste should smile more. It transformed her entire face. Although, if Celeste refused to lighten up and be jollier, Natalie would not feel guilty if she secretly relished the sight of her stuffy neighbor sitting in such a way that the bright green pointy cap on the elf’s head appeared to be perched on top of the puff of Celeste’s curly black ponytail.

Served her right.

“How long will things take you here, to, well…?” Celeste gestured casually with a circular motion that encompassed the shop, but the intensity underlying her inquiry made it more than obvious this was her true motive for coming over.

So much for the peace offering. Whatever was hiding in that bakery box was a bribe for information and nothing more.

“To get the shop fixed up and ready to open?” Natalie suggested, guessing that was not what Celeste expected to hear. In truth, she had no idea what her plans for her aunt’s old business were beyond applying enough elbow grease to keep it from looking like it was decorated for Halloween. But there was something fun about the prospect of throwing her neighbor off her game.

“Open?” Celeste choked a little on the word, and if she was trying to play it cool, her open mouth and rapid blinking were sure signs she was anything but. After a valiant effort that was beyond hilarious to witness, Celeste recovered enough to pop the lid off the pastry box. “Strudel?”

“That smells delightful.” Savoring her small triumph in the psychological warfare department, Natalie scooped one of the flaky rectangles out of the box and whisked it to her mouth without hesitation. And if it turned out Celeste had poisoned the baked treat instead of the coffee, Natalie couldn’t imagine a better way to leave this world. “So good,” she managed to say around an apple and spice filled bite that sent her tastebuds into swirls of ecstasy.

“It’s my grandmother’s recipe. She was from Germany.” Celeste’s confidence had obviously returned, and while it might have been amusing to pretend the strudel was terrible, Natalie didn’t have the acting chops to pull off that level of deception.

How was it possible that such a frosty woman could bake something so warm and yummy?

Natalie plumbed her brain to recall the earlier track of the conversation, the strudel making it difficult to concentrate. “What were we talking about before? Oh, right. My plans for reopening the shop.”

“What do you know about running a bookshop?” Celeste snapped. Her back stiffened, and one side of her mouth curled upward.

Whoa. Natalie had hit a nerve with this one. Instead of making her back off, Celeste’s over-the-top response caused Natalie’s hackles to rise.

“You know nothing about me. I could be descended from Barnes. Or Noble.” Belatedly, Natalie tried to recall how the chain of book stores had gotten its name. Were those the founding partners? For some reason, Natalie was suddenly convinced it had been named for a circus.

Wait, no. That was Barnum and Bailey.

Luckily, Natalie hadn’t said any of this out loud. Although, perhaps hints of the inner dialog had flashed across her face, because Celeste was giving her that look usually reserved for dogs that might bite or people who were talking to themselves on street corners.

There was only one thing to do. Take another massive bite of strudel.

Natalie was still chewing when the front door swung open, letting in a blast of cold air and two squealing children. A young woman—too young to be their mom, but maybe an older sister or a nanny—came chasing after them.

“Pip and Squeak!” she shouted. “Get out of here right now!”

Was this whole thing an elaborate dream?

That was the only explanation Natalie could come up with for how she suddenly found herself sitting in a dusty bookshop in Vermont, being circled by two children with the silliest names she’d ever heard, with a black cat who had simply moved in and made himself at home, and a crusty—if not unattractive—bakery owner grilling her about her future business plans over homemade strudel.

If this was a dream, though, what a shame. Natalie licked a bead of icing from her fingertip. Strudel this good should exist in reality.

The young woman skidded to a stop, her eyes widening as they darted from Natalie to Celeste and back again. “Oh my gosh! Is Rainbow Books finally open again?”

“No!” Celeste snapped, while at the same time Natalie said, “Not yet.”

Celeste locked eyes on Natalie, and it took more effort than it should have to stop herself from sticking out her tongue.

“Not yet?” Choosing to focus on the more hopeful of the two responses, the young woman practically danced with giddiness. “That means you’re reopening the shop?”

At this point, the two little blond boys had tossed their hats somewhere they’d probably never find them again and curled up together on a beanbag. They were leafing through a picture book that had been on the floor next to where they sat, as if waiting for them. All of a sudden, Natalie got a glimpse of what a place like this meant for a small town, and how hard it must have been to have it closed for so long.

Perhaps this was what she had been searching for. A chance at redemption. If she could turn this place around and make it a success, that would mean she wasn’t a total failure at business after all. Right?

“I’m Natalie.” She rose to shake the woman’s hand. “The previous owner, Pam, was my aunt. She left the shop to me in her will, and I’ve come into town to figure out what to do next.”

“I’m Shiloh.” As she reached to shake Natalie’s hand, her sudden uncertainty made it obvious she was much younger than Natalie had assumed, probably no more than sixteen. “It’d be amazing if you reopened it in time for Christmas shopping. Everyone in town loves this place.”

As Natalie snuck a glance toward Celeste, Natalie couldn’t help thinking not everyone. It wasn’t clear yet what the baker’s agenda was, but she certainly had one. And whatever it was, it didn’t involve Natalie reopening Rainbow Books. Was she hoping to buy the shop out and expand her business?

“Pip and Squeak,” Shiloh called out, fixing the boys with a don’t argue with me stare that made Natalie wonder briefly if she’d been wrong about the girl’s age after all. That was a mom look if Natalie had ever seen one. “We gotta run.”

The boys took that as an order and dashed out of the store, with Shiloh hot on their tails.

“You can’t be serious about reopening this store,” Celeste charged in the moment the visitors were gone. “Even Pam was on the verge of selling before her death. We both were.”

Natalie registered shock at this revelation. From what she remembered, the bookshop had been her aunt’s whole life. Interestingly, Celeste, too, seemed surprised by what she’d said, like she hadn’t intended to be so forthcoming.

“Max didn’t breathe a word of that when he talked to me about the estate.”

“What does Max have to do with anything?” Celeste snapped, struggling to gain her composure. Was she lying about Pam’s intentions? Natalie couldn’t imagine why, but what else could account for the woman’s obvious unease?

“He was my aunt’s lawyer. I’d think if the shop was meant to be sold, it’d be in the will.”

“Well, it wasn’t final. But Pam gave me her word she’d consider it.”

“She wanted to sell this place?” Suspicion building, Natalie swept her gaze through the shop, seeing childhood memories of her aunt greeting townspeople and their children, a wide smile on her face. She shook her head. “I can’t imagine Aunt Pam agreeing to that. Not ever. It would—” Natalie stopped herself before saying kill her. Terrible word choice under the circumstances. “If that’s what she’d wanted, why involve me at all?”

“Who do you think you are?” Celeste blurted. “Last night, you barged into my bathroom and nearly gave me a heart attack. Now you think you know Pam better than I do. My mother opened that bakery and cafe next door fifteen years ago, and I’ve been here that whole time. I’ve never seen you before yesterday.”

Natalie clenched her fists. She didn’t like the woman’s tone or the accusation lying beneath the surface. Probably because it cut a little too deep for comfort. It wasn’t like she could counter Celeste’s accusations by whipping out the stack of Christmas cards that had been her only real communication with her aunt over the years.

“This is a great shop,” Natalie said instead, and she meant it. Potential was popping all over the place, sparking her creativity the same way it often did when faced with a new client whose business needed her help. Only this time, she was her own client. “All it needs is a deep clean and a thorough restocking to let it shine again. That’s what I plan to do.”

Natalie clamped her mouth shut, stunned she’d gone so far. An idea was one thing, but was she serious about taking this on? If she really were her own client, she’d be telling herself to hold her horses and get her head on straight.

“How do you plan on getting the customers to come back?” Clearly, Celeste was less than convinced. Oddly, instead of making Natalie doubt herself and back down, this had the effect of strengthening her resolve.

“A marketing plan. Some promotions. If I do it right, they’ll come,” Natalie assured her.

“This isn’t Field of Dreams.”

“And I’m not a farmer who sees ghosts,” Natalie shot back. “I happen to be a business consultant with a decade of experience who specializes in revitalizing businesses exactly like this one.”

Okay, not exactly. Natalie didn’t really do retail. Her expertise was more in the tech and service industries. And she’d bungled her most recent job to the point of probably earning herself a pink slip. But she was under no obligation to tell Celeste the particulars. Especially when the woman had probably been lying about her aunt’s last wishes. The nerve!

“Why don’t we continue this conversation after I discuss everything with Max?” Natalie said with as much calm as she could muster.

“Heaven help us,” Celeste muttered as she stood. Then she crossed to the front door, slammed it behind her, and proceeded to stomp the entire ten feet to her own shop’s door. She slammed that door, too.

Unperturbed by the entire display of temper, the black cat slinked from the window, plopped in front of Natalie’s feet, and rolled over, exposing its white underside. Natalie petted the cat’s stomach, until it swiped her hand. Considering the day so far, it was a fitting gesture.

“The business side of me says Celeste’s right,” Natalie told the cat, who was showing his belly again. Like Natalie would fall for that a second time in under a minute. She kept her hand a safe distance away as she kept talking. “It’d be best to sell. But how can I do that to Aunt Pam’s memory? This was her life, and my dad loved it here. Can you feel his presence?”

The cat stilled, letting out a plaintive meow that made the hairs on the back of Natalie’s neck stand up. She may have been talking about ghosts with a black cat, but Natalie hadn’t expected an answer.

Before she could process whether there was something spooky going on, Natalie’s phone vibrated. She checked it and saw a text from her old college roommate—whom she’d dated briefly, though that was ancient history. They were still friends, and Lucy had become something of a well-known author. In certain circles, anyway.

Author.

The word rolled around in Natalie’s noggin as an idea crystallized. Rainbow Books needed customers, and she might know how to get them. If she remembered correctly, Lucy was living in New York these days. Or somewhere on the east coast. If Natalie could convince her friend to make a trip to Vermont to do a reading and book signing, people would flock to the shop from miles around.

Natalie smiled to herself as she prepared to text Lucy back with the proposition. “I might make a go of this yet, Whiskers.”

Natalie held her breath to see how the cat would respond to its new name. The cat cracked an eye open, showing one of its fangs in an alarming way.

“You hate that name, obviously,” Natalie said, quickly backing down. “I’ll keep workshopping it.”

Taking stock of her new situation, however temporary, Natalie was buoyed by a sense of hope. She’d started the week at the lowest point in her life.

No career prospects.

No home.

No love life.

No cat.

Here she was a few days later with a place to live and a business to revitalize. She even appeared to have come into possession, kinda, of a cat. When it came down to it, she couldn’t complain. Three out of four wasn’t bad.

CHAPTER FOUR

“Sammy?” Making a chirping sound with her tongue, Celeste emptied the scoop of dry kibble into the bowl before shoving it under the back stairs with her foot. The alley cat was nowhere to be seen. Probably still basking in the warm window of the bookshop as she had been every day the past week since her neighbor had started cleaning the place.

The furry little traitor.

“You mean like Santa?” Annie was saying to the customer on the other side of the display case when Celeste reentered the cafe. “Sorry, I don’t think I’ve ever heard of him. That’ll be three dollars and sixty-three cents for the coffee.”

“Oh. Right. Okay.” The customer cleared his throat, and Celeste heard the clink of coins. She rounded the counter and saw a middle-aged man—clearly down on his luck, unshaven, and with bedraggled clothing that he’d probably been wearing for more than a few days. He pulled a fistful of change from his pocket, struggling to keep his beltless pants in place with one hand so they wouldn’t plummet to the ground.

“Were you looking for someone?” Celeste asked the man, having a feeling she knew what he would say.

“I’m a… uh, a friend of Klaus.” The man pronounced it like the word clause instead of the German pronunciation Celeste was used to, but she knew instantly what he meant.

“Yes, of course.” Celeste cast a sideways glance at Annie, her brain spinning for a reason to send her out of the room. “Hey, Annie? I think I forgot to set the timer for the gingerbread. Can you check?”

“Sure.” Annie left the register and went into the back, but not before giving Celeste a curious look.

The moment Annie was out of sight, Celeste wiped her hands on her apron. She reached for a brown bag from under the counter and placed a fresh sandwich from the ones she’d finished prepping for the lunch rush inside. She followed it up with an apple, a warm brownie, and finally slipped a crisp twenty-dollar bill under the paper-wrapped sandwich.

“Here you go, and here’s that coffee you ordered.” Celeste shook her head when the man tried to give her the cash in his hand. “For a friend of Klaus, there’s no charge.”

Celeste pronounced the name as her mother always had, rhyming with the word house. It was the name of an uncle Celeste had never met, who’d died of malnourishment as a child in Germany during the dark days right after the war. Scarred from the loss, her grandmother had never let anyone go hungry, not when there was food to be had. She’d taught her daughter, Celeste’s mom, to do the same. Over the years, word had gotten around that all a person in need had to do was go to the Rainbow Sprinkles cafe and mention Klaus, and they’d leave with a full belly. Celeste felt honor bound to carry on the family tradition.

But she didn’t feel any particular need to explain it to Annie, who would make a big deal over things when there was no need. Celeste didn’t help people because she was nice or because she wanted a pat on the back. She did it because not doing it was unthinkable to her. And that was that.

“Thank you, ma’am,” the man mumbled, breaking Celeste’s heart with how much gratitude and embarrassment were packed into those three words.

“Thanks for coming in!” Annie called out, waving as she came back from the kitchen. “Hey, what’s your name?”

One hand already on the door to leave, the man froze, and Celeste detected fear in his eyes.

“Don’t bother the poor guy,” Celeste scolded. After all, he didn’t know Annie was simply being friendly, and the way he glanced at his dirty jeans was like he expected her to call the cops any second. It had probably happened to him before.

“I wanted to be able to tell his friend he was looking for him, in case he comes in sometime,” Annie explained.

“It’s Sean,” the man muttered, eyes downcast.

“Nice to meet you, Sean,” Celeste said. “Don’t be a stranger now.”

A lump formed in Celeste’s throat as she watched him leave, wishing people like him didn’t have to rely on the kindness of others. There simply wasn’t enough of it to go around. It was wrong in a country so rich that so many were forced to get by with so little. She glanced at the forecast on her phone, her belly tightening as she realized it was going to dip well below freezing overnight. It was only the beginning of the bad nights in these parts. Maybe, though, he was simply passing through and wouldn’t have to fend for himself for too long.

The door had barely shut behind Sean when it opened again. This time, it was Natalie. Speaking of people Celeste hoped were merely passing through.

“Howdy, neighbors!” Natalie waved enthusiastically, and Celeste took some pleasure in the fact the woman was embarrassed by her over-the-top display, yet she couldn’t quite rein it in. It wasn’t the first time Celeste had noticed this trait in the newcomer, and she found it adorable.

No, not adorable, Celeste corrected herself. Annoying.

Or maybe adorable in a completely annoying way. Was that a thing?

“Howdy!” Annie parroted with the same level of excitement. Of course, she would. Between her friend’s constant cheerleading as an unofficial ambassador for everything Rainbow Falls and her neighbor’s bullheaded insistence on trying to turn around a business with one foot already in the grave, Celeste figured they were two peas in the same pod.

“What can I get you?” Annie asked, tossing Celeste preemptive shade by way of a warning look. Which rankled. How did Annie know Celeste was on the verge of being rude?

Apparently, she’d become predictable.

“Coffee.” Natalie blew into her red, raw hands. “Hot.”

If the woman got that cold on the short walk from right next door, things might be looking up for Celeste. Miss California wouldn’t be able to hack a Vermont winter, which despite the frigid temperatures already settling into the region, wouldn’t officially arrive for another six weeks.

“Did you grow up here, Annie?” Natalie bounced on the balls of her feet, clearly hoping the exertion would keep her warm.

“Sure did. Why?”

“Because I’m trying to figure out if I’m losing my mind.”

Celeste snorted at that one, loud enough that Annie shot her another, fiercer look. It was an expression that said if Celeste uttered a single word, Annie would put her in the doghouse for a week. Celeste couldn’t help wondering if Phil was as familiar with the look as she was. Probably not. For one thing, he had way more tolerance for his wife’s terrible taste in movies.

“Why’s that?” Annie asked without a trace of the sarcasm Celeste was dying to express.

“I visited here when I was a kid, and I swear I remember a big Christmas festival. I didn’t make that up, did I?” Natalie parked her butt on the edge of one of the tables. “The town seems much different now.”

Celeste wanted to tell her to get her buttocks off the table, but there were three tables in the small space, and no one sat at any of them, so Celeste pivoted to a reply that wouldn’t make her sound like a raving lunatic. “If you haven’t noticed, you’re the only one in the shop, right now. That should tell you something about how successful a festival would be.”

“It’s five minutes after ten, and this is the first downtime we’ve had since we opened.” It was a good thing Annie didn’t look at Celeste again before going to fetch a cup of coffee for Natalie because if she had, there was a chance Annie would’ve been struck dead by it.

“When I left San Francisco, the Christmas decorations were already going up. But it’s the second week of November, and nothing’s out there but scraggly wreaths on a few doors.” Natalie gestured toward Main Street, a frown etching her face. “I remember lights and big red bows and the most magical displays in every store window downtown when I was little.”

“You’re thinking of Kovack’s Department Store.” Annie set a steaming coffee in front of Natalie, and much to Celeste’s chagrin, it was a ceramic one, not a to-go cup. “They had that big building across the street, and I remember the window displays, too. A whole Christmas village. I don’t think the ones in New York City could possibly be any better.”

You wanna bet? Celeste was tempted to ask but refrained. Just because she was annoyed by the misplaced optimism that was keeping her new neighbor from selling her share of the building didn’t mean she needed to insult her best friend. Celeste did have some limits to her grumpiness.

Natalie took a sip of coffee, letting out a heavenly sigh. “How do you two do it?”

“What?” Annie asked, slanting her head like a confused puppy at the sudden change in the conversation.

Natalie inhaled the steam from her cup, smiling. “Everything I’ve had here, even the house coffee, is sublime.”

“It’s all because of the angel in the kitchen.” Annie pointed to Celeste.

Shifting her head toward Celeste, Natalie’s blue eyes wandered over her with an appreciation that sent the weirdest emotions zinging through Celeste’s body. She had to fight the urge to duck down under one of the tables and hide while she waited for whatever that was to pass.

“I’m no angel, and I can’t really take the credit. They’re my mother’s recipes, taught to her by my grandmother. I just follow them.” The more she talked about herself, the more it seemed her face was bursting into flames. “Weren’t you talking about Christmas decorations or something?”

Had she really steered the conversation back to that?

“There was a festival, too, right?” Natalie asked, her expression growing even brighter than it had when she’d first sipped her coffee. “I remember going with my aunt.”

“Christmas on Main Street,” Annie confirmed. “It was always held on Christmas Eve. There would be stalls set up with pies and cakes—that was before Celeste’s mom opened the bakery, of course. There were homemade crafts and carolers. The highlight of the evening was when the mayor would light the star on top of the gazebo in the town square.”

“Why did it stop?” Natalie asked, a forlorn quality to her words. In a way, Celeste couldn’t blame her. It did sound pretty amazing.

“Probably because Kovack’s went out of business,” Celeste replied, as much for her own benefit as Natalie’s. For a moment there, Celeste had almost been swept away by the nostalgia and forgotten the reality that Smithfield was a town with no future. No amount of waxing rhapsodic and calling the place by poetic names was going to change that. “It’s been closed since before I moved here.”

“It’s true,” Annie said sadly. “They’ve probably been gone sixteen years, and all those beautiful decorations, too. I heard someone say they were still stored down in the basement, but others claim they were sold to a store in Boston. In any case, the tradition kind of faded away after that. The church still has a craft fair, but that’s about all that’s left of the original festival anymore.”

“What about the new tenant of the old department store building?” Natalie asked, that touch of hope clinging to her tone with a tenacity Celeste almost had to admire. “Couldn’t they bring the tradition back? Maybe not the whole festival, but if they put up some nice decorations—not the old ones if they don’t have them but some lights and garland, at least—I bet the rest of the shops would follow suit. It would spruce up this place immensely.”

“You must not have gone out to explore this new home of yours yet,” Celeste commented, her tone dry.

Natalie frowned. “I’m not sure I’d say it’s my new home—more of a temporary stay—but no. I’ve been too busy getting the bookshop ready and planning a surprise for the grand reopening.”

“A surprise?” Annie’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Reopening?” Celeste slumped. The fool was really going through with it.

“Yes, but why did you say I must not have gotten out much since I got here?” Natalie asked, a hint of concern marring her usually attractive features.

Well, good, Celeste thought, ignoring the part about Natalie’s features being attractive. If she was honestly planning to make a go of it with that bookshop of hers, she should be concerned.

Celeste folded her arms across her chest. “The old Kovack’s building is empty, that’s why. A couple of businesses have opened there over the years, but nothing stuck. They never do. This town’s dying. Each day it gets worse and worse.”

“It does not!” Annie countered, passion for her beloved hometown flaring to life. “That Vietnamese place opened last summer, and it’s jam-packed every night.”

“Because it’s the only place to eat⁠—”

“No, it isn’t.” Annie shook her head vigorously. “You always try to claim that, but there’s the pub overlooking the falls, the pizza place, and the sub shop.”

“I stand corrected. Four restaurants. Excuse me.” Celeste rolled her eyes. When she’d lived in New York as a kid, there’d been four restaurants at every intersection, one on each corner. And so many festivals you couldn’t keep track of them all. If a store closed, another one opened the next day. There was always something exciting and new. If that wasn’t a reason to move back, Celeste didn’t know what was.

“You know what your problem is?” Annie asked, although based on the expression Natalie wore, it could just as easily have been her saying it. “You can’t admit when you’re wrong. Rainbow Falls has been through some rough times, but she’s still got some life in her.”

“Maybe for people like you,” Celeste said, unable to keep the bitterness from seeping into her tone enough that Natalie raised an eyebrow in surprise. “A town like this might be fine if you’re straight, white, and married. You fit right in. Heck, I don’t know. My mom loved it here, and she was divorced and the only woman of color for probably fifty miles. But me? I’m like a square peg in a town full of round holes. Always have been.”

Celeste gasped for breath as she finished her unexpected diatribe. Natalie’s eyes had widened in an alarming way, and Annie was giving her that look that confirmed she’d said way more than she’d intended. But all of it was true, and strangely, Celeste didn’t regret getting it off her chest.

The silence dragged on forever as Celeste anticipated the questions that were piling up in Natalie’s brain. You’re gay? That would be a likely one. Or maybe, You’re Black? Whether because her skin tone was such that her ethnicity didn’t immediately register with people, or because Vermont was known to be the whitest state in the country and her presence simply threw people for a loop, Celeste got that one quite often, too. When Natalie finally did open her mouth to speak, Celeste was one big ball of dread.

“What if we worked together to bring Christmas back to Main Street?”

Of all the possibilities, that was not what Celeste had been expecting to hear from Natalie.

Annie clapped her hands together, unable to keep in her glee. “We should do that!”

“That’s crazy,” was all Celeste could manage to say.

“I don’t mean the whole festival,” Natalie added, probably for Celeste’s benefit since Annie was ready to sign on the dotted line, no questions asked. “But we could set an example, starting with decorating our shop windows. I see you have a box of decorations in the corner⁠—”

“Annie brought those in,” Celeste interrupted.

“And there’s more where they came from,” Annie said, her eyes sparkling. “Celeste’s mom had boxes and boxes. She loved Christmas more than any other time of year.”

A sharp pain seemed to stab Celeste’s ribs. Annie was right. Her mother had loved the holiday season most of all. Which was why it was particularly unfair that she hadn’t made it quite long enough to enjoy her final Christmas at home, dying a few days before her favorite holiday in a cold, impersonal hospital bed instead. Celeste slowly let the air seep out of her chest, wishing the pain of her loss would leave. But it never would if she stayed here, which was why she had to go somewhere else instead.

“I guess we could put up the rest of the decorations Annie brought in,” Celeste conceded at last. It would be a fitting way to honor her mom, if nothing else. “But not the others. I’m not sure where they are.”

Besides, by the way Annie and Natalie were already chattering like hamsters on speed about their plans—which seemed to grow more elaborate with every breath—Celeste couldn’t help thinking there would be a valuable lesson to be learned in all of this.

Contrary to what her friend wanted to believe, Rainbow Falls was no more roaring back to life than it was on its way to becoming a gay paradise. If they planned a big festival and nothing came of it—the only logical outcome as far as Celeste could tell—surely Natalie would see the light and agree to sell, and then Celeste could sell out and head for the big city to chase her own dreams.

CHAPTER FIVE

“Now, where is that closet?” On the hunt for Aunt Pam’s Christmas decorations—and talking to herself as per usual—Natalie spun around in the upstairs apartment, counting four doors that all looked alike. Only one of them went to a closet. The other three led to Celeste’s side of the space, or No Man’s Land, as Natalie had started calling it.

For as much as she would get yelled at for choosing incorrectly, one would think it would occur to the occupant of the other unit to bolt her locks if she didn’t want to be walked in on. But no. The burden was all on Natalie to remember which door was which. It was like the woman enjoyed tormenting Natalie or something because Natalie had chosen the wrong door at least three times now.

“I swear, I feel like I’m in that weird house back in California. The one with the stairway to nowhere.”

The black cat, who had taken to following her upstairs at the end of the workday but still hadn’t revealed his name, offered a wide yawn with a show of impressively pointy teeth in reply.

“Some help you are, Buddy.” She scrutinized the cat, tensing for its reaction. Buddy wasn’t a bad name for a cat. Would he agree? So far, it looked promising. A slow smile spread across Natalie’s lips. “Buddy? You’re okay with that name?”

There was no reaction whatsoever from the finicky stray. Some people might take this as striking out, but those would be people without cats. No reaction was an excellent development, considering the alternatives.

Natalie let out a victorious whoop, exclaiming, “We have a name, ladies and gentlemen.”

This time, the cat offered a sad headshake.

“Is that cat sarcasm?” she asked.

The cat did not dignify her question with a response.

Nevertheless, feeling a sudden surge of positivity and confidence after finally putting that whole name thing to rest, Natalie lunged for door number one.

“What are you doing?” Celeste screamed, standing in her kitchen with oven mitts on, holding a baking tray filled with something that would no doubt taste delicious, not that Natalie was likely to be offered any after barging in unannounced.

At least Celeste was fully clothed this time.

“I thought this was the closet.” Even as she said it, Natalie knew she sounded like an idiot, but it was the best she could do. The memory of Celeste naked in the tub that first night short-circuited her brain like she was a phone being dropped into a bubble bath.

Taking advantage of Natalie’s temporary inability to function, Buddy slipped through the door.

“What’s that cat doing in here?” Celeste set a baking tray on top of the stove, and from all the evidence, she was baking for an army. Was that why she was upstairs at this time of day? She needed more space?

“He came upstairs with me,” Natalie said in a rush, making a dive for the naughty feline and getting nothing but a tuft of fluff from his tail. “You have no idea how sorry I am that I’ve busted into your place yet again. This is much harder than it should be.”

“Oddly, your aunt never had issues.” It was hard to tell if Celeste was annoyed or amused. Natalie hoped for the latter but found it unlikely she would be so lucky.

“She’s the one who converted this place into two residences, you know.” As the cat started rubbing against Celeste’s jeans as if they were the best of friends, Natalie made frantic motions with her arms. “Buddy, don’t do that.”

“Who are you talking to?” Celeste bristled, not seeming to notice the cat.

“The cat. It’s what I named him, and he didn’t seem to mind.” Natalie shrugged. “He’s not wearing a collar, but he seems well fed, which makes me think he’s not a stray.”

“As it happens, her name is Sammy.”

“You know this cat? Oh, what a relief.” Natalie whipped out her phone from her back pocket. “Do you know who I should call to pick him—or, her, rather— up?”

“As far as I know, she doesn’t belong to anyone.”

Natalie frowned. “Then how did you know his name is Sammy? Or that he’s a she?”

“Doesn’t she look like a Sammy?” Celeste gestured toward the cat.

“Sammy.” Natalie tested out the name. The cat meowed in response. “Hey, you’re good at naming cats. That and making strudel. I don’t suppose that’s strudel on that baking tray, by chance?”

“You’re not subtle,” Celeste replied. “And you’re not good with remembering doors. I think we should lay down some ground rules and devise a shower schedule.”

“Ground rules and shower schedule?” The words came out like they were foreign.

“I like to take a bath at night, to relax.”

Natalie was well aware. She’d witnessed it firsthand, and the image had been burned onto her retinas ever since. “I can live with that.”

Celeste cocked an eyebrow. “How kind of you.”

“I didn’t mean it like⁠—”

“No more barging into my space,” Celeste barreled on, not noticing or caring that Natalie was trying to apologize. “And absolutely no flea-ridden felines allowed.”

The black cat who had likely been the inspiration for this rule was busy winding herself between Celeste’s legs.

“I think you’re going to have to take that one up with her,” Natalie joked, pointing to the cat.

“I’ll bring it up with you because you’re the one who let her in,” came Celeste’s humorless retort.

“Fine.” Natalie crossed her arms. “But so you know, it’s cruel to let an animal fend for herself in the cold.”

“Are you going to move all the squirrels and deer into your half of the building, then?” Celeste blinked in a way that somehow managed to be sarcastic. Natalie hadn’t even known sarcastic blinking was a thing.

Damn. What Natalie really wanted to do was laugh, but there was no way she would give that annoying woman the satisfaction. “Any other rules I should be aware of?”

“Why don’t you escort Sammy to your space and then bring a notebook back to take notes.” It wasn’t a question but a command.

* * *

Forty-five minutes later, Natalie finally made it back down to the bookshop, with Buddy—er Sammy, rather—zigzagging in front of her. With a box of Christmas decorations held precariously in front of her, Natalie tensed with each step, sure it might be her last. She’d been overjoyed to locate the festive ornaments and garland, even more so than she’d been to locate the correct door to the closet they’d been stored in. But with a cat underfoot, she wondered if it was worth risking life and limb.

When she reached the bottom step unscathed, the waning late afternoon light made the shop look as perky as dirty dishwater. Natalie’s spirits, already deflated from the run-in with Celeste, sank further. With as much cleaning and reorganizing as she’d done the past week, how could it still look so far from the warm, inviting vision she had in her mind? Nothing in the box she was holding was going to make a difference. But that didn’t mean she would quit without giving it a try.

After a bit of rummaging, Natalie dug out a wreath of fake greenery and glittery pinecones that was in good enough shape to grace the front door. She’d hung it on a suction cup hook and was straightening the slightly crushed bow when the young woman from the other day—Shiloh, Natalie thought she’d said—waved from across the street. She was with an older woman whom Natalie took to be her mother.

“Hi!” Natalie returned the girl’s bright smile, marveling at how quickly a little bit of happiness could bring a previously drab space to life. Already, with two people inside the shop, it felt a little warmer. “We’re not quite open for business yet, but if there’s something you need, I guess there’s no reason you can’t come in and look around.”

“Hi, I’m Carol. You must be Natalie.” The older woman held out her hand. “I’ve heard so much about you already from this one here.”

“Mom!” Shiloh uttered the single syllable with all the anguish of an embarrassed teenager.

“What? It’s true. Shiloh’s been talking nonstop about how you were cleaning up the place,” Carol said. “I’ll be honest. Everyone in town is hoping you don’t close the shop.”

Shiloh’s eyes tripled in size. “You’re not going to, are you?”

“I don’t want to, not before I have a chance to assess the market.” Natalie tucked her hands into her armpits, shivering from the cold air that had accompanied her guests into the shop. “Although some people tell me it’s a losing proposition to make a go of it in this town.”

Natalie must have said this more pointedly than she’d intended because Carol’s gaze slid to the wall that separated the bookshop from the bakery, and she gave a knowing nod.

“Let me guess. Celeste?” When Natalie confirmed this with a raise of her eyebrows, Carol added, “It’s gotta be hard on her right now. She’s had a rough time since her mom died.”

“When was that?”

“Christmas last year.”

Natalie gasped, her eyes watering. “Her mom died on Christmas?”

“Not on the actual day but close. It was the twenty-second, I think.” Carol closed one eye, presumably consulting a mental calendar. “Maybe the twenty-third. What a loss—for the whole town, really. The two of them used to do it up big for the holidays. Her mom had the most beautiful German glass ornaments, and those wooden ones where you light the candles and the propellers turn. My goodness, it was like the North Pole and the Black Forest rolled into one.”

“Over there? In that shop next door?” Natalie hooked her thumb in the direction of the bakery, donning a most incredulous look. “Are you trying to say my neighbor wasn’t always the female version of Ebenezer Scrooge?”

“She’s always had spunk.” Carol was much more diplomatic about her word choice than Natalie would have been, what with the list of household rules and regulations still fresh in her mind. “She grew up in New York City, you see. We don’t hold that against her or anything, but it probably explains a lot.”

“Not a small-town girl?” Natalie asked wryly. “And her mother was from Germany? But she also mentioned her mom being a woman of color. That’s⁠—”

“Not what you think of when you hear someone’s German?” Carol offered, completing Natalie’s thought. “You’re not alone. Folks often have a hard time figuring out Celeste’s family background, and I don’t blame her if she gets testy about it sometimes and prefers to keep to herself. But her mom was a real people person. She used to love to talk about her experiences, and believe me, she led an interesting, albeit sometimes sad life.”

As Shiloh browsed the shelves in the young adult section of the store, Carol made her way to the same chairs where Natalie had sat with Celeste the week before. The way she settled in made Natalie suspect this was the town gossip—every small town was rumored to have one—and she followed eagerly, taking a seat next to Carol and waiting with anticipation for whatever else the woman wanted to share.

“Celeste’s grandmother was a white German woman who fell head over heels in love with a Black US serviceman after the war. To hear Ingrid—that was Celeste’s mother—tell the story, it was love at first sight, the kind of thing you read in a storybook. But when they found out Ingrid’s mother was in the family way and wanted to get married, the army wouldn’t allow it.”

Natalie’s brows scrunched together. “I thought lots of servicemen found wives overseas during that time.”

“White men, sure,” Carol explained. “But it was an unwritten rule—or heck, it might’ve been written down somewhere given how messed up things were back then—to split an interracial couple up by sending the soldier away.”

“That’s so sad.” Natalie swallowed a lump in her throat. “Did Celeste’s mom ever get reunited with her father?”

“Sadly, no,” Carol said. “I remember Ingrid saying that her father had gone to fight in Korea and was killed in action there before she was even born. It wasn’t until the family made it to New York that they found out what had happened.”

“How tragic.” Natalie could think of nothing else to say, her heart heavy with the story Carol had shared. How much had that family history gone into making Celeste the grumpy, holiday-hating person she seemed to be today?

On top of all that, Celeste was queer, too.

Yes, Natalie had picked up on that during Celeste’s mini-rant in the bakery that morning. Not like she was going to comment on it or pipe up to say hey, me too while waving a rainbow flag or something. But the knowledge was there, which now that she thought about it, might explain the sudden renewed obsession with the bathtub incident.

“Does your cat have a name?” Shiloh, a book clutched in one hand, squatted down to pet Sammy behind the ears. Sammy stretched out on the floor, looking like she was in heaven.

“You know, she’s not even my cat, although Celeste seems to think her name is Sammy.”

Shiloh scratched the cat behind the ears, setting off purring that rumbled through the room. “Hi, Sammy. What a good girl.”

“You don’t happen to recognize her, do you?” Natalie asked Carol, pointing to Sammy. “She’s moved in and made herself at home, but if someone’s missing her…”

“Not that I know of. I’ve seen her around, but I guess I always assumed she was Celeste and Ingrid’s cat.”

Natalie tilted her head slightly. “Why did you think that?”

“I could’ve sworn I saw one of them feeding her in that alley behind your building once or twice.”

“It must have been Ingrid,” Natalie said, unable to imagine Celeste offering any kindness to the stray. Although as soon as the words had left her mouth, the recollection of how affectionate Sammy had seemed with Celeste niggled at the back of Natalie’s mind. Was Celeste really as much of a grinch as she wanted people to think? Maybe it was all an act, or a portion of it, at least. “Anyway, she seems set on staying, so I guess I’ll take care of her as long as I’m in town. I wonder if I should take her to the vet and maybe ask around if anyone wants to take her in when I head back to San Francisco.”

Looking up from the cat, Shiloh appeared to be on the verge of tears. “You’re not staying in Rainbow Falls?”

“Not forever,” Natalie replied, hating how sad the girl looked over this news. The truth was, Natalie wasn’t thrilled with the plan, either, considering how little waited for her back home. “But if I can get the shop up and running, I’ll do my best to find a good manager for it before I go.”

Shiloh’s face instantly brightened. “If you need any help around here, I’m looking for a part-time job that doesn’t involve chasing Pip and Squeak.”

Natalie couldn’t hold back a grin. “Are those their actual names?”

“No,” Shiloh admitted, “but even though they’re my cousins, they’re twins and I can’t tell them apart. That’s what I call them instead. They think it’s hilarious, and now everyone calls them that.”

Natalie laughed out loud at this confession. “You know, I do need help cleaning and decorating for Christmas. If it’s okay with your mom, that is?”

“More than fine,” Carol said. “She’s trying to earn money for college. Don’t let her guilt you into hiring her, though.”

“No guilt involved. I need all the help I can get.” Natalie paused, trying to recall what day it was without much success—a total shock to the usually super organized businesswoman in her. She settled on the likelihood that tomorrow would be a school day. “Can you start tomorrow afternoon?”

“Sure can!” Shiloh added an energetic bob of the head. Surprisingly, Sammy stayed in place. She was a natural around people.

“Is everyone in town so nice?” Natalie asked. Aside from a certain someone with a list of rules a mile long who lived upstairs, she added in her head. But even Celeste was starting to grow on her.

“Rainbow Falls is a good place,” Carol said, rising from her chair and motioning for her daughter to follow. “Don’t believe all the hype about idyllic small towns. We have our own set of problems. Speaking of, we need to pick up my son from basketball practice before he causes mayhem. It was lovely meeting you.”

As Natalie closed the door behind them, she got a waft of fresh baked chocolate chip cookies that could only be coming from next door. She followed the scent like a bloodhound and found herself walking inside the cafe before she fully came to her senses.

“We’re closing in five minutes,” Celeste barked, not bothering to look up to see who she was shouting at, although honestly, Natalie sensed Celeste knew it was her.

“Then why are you baking fresh cookies?” Natalie demanded as if it were Celeste’s fault she was there. Which it kind of was.

Celeste put her hands on her hips. “I wasn’t aware I had to answer to you.”

“Can I buy one?” Natalie asked, digging her hand into her jeans pocket for her wallet as she strode toward the counter.

“These aren’t for sale.”

Natalie stopped short as if she’d been slapped. “Why do you hate me?”

“I don’t,” Celeste said in a monotone.

“Wow. That wasn’t convincing at all.” Natalie shook her head, noticing the space looked as bare now as it had that morning. “Where are your decorations? I thought you said you were going to do that.”

“I did. It’s on the door.”

Natalie wheeled about, letting out a guffaw as she spotted a single item on the front door. “The bell? That’s your effort?”

“It’s on red velvet with a sprig of pine. You can’t get more Christmas than that.”

“I’m pretty sure you can,” Natalie muttered. “Carol stopped by a little bit ago. You know, Shiloh’s mom?”

“I know who they are,” Celeste said flatly.

“Really? I wasn’t sure you socialized with anyone in town.” Natalie’s words were coated in sarcasm as thick as the drizzled icing on the last piece of strudel in Celeste’s display case. “If I can’t buy a cookie, can I buy the strudel? Ever since I tasted it, I can’t stop thinking about… it.”

Natalie’s core temperature spiked by a hundred degrees or so as she realized she’d nearly said you instead of it. Talk about a dangerous slip.

Celeste rolled her eyes, but there was a curious sparkle in them as if she’d caught onto Natalie’s almost faux pas.

“How much do I owe you?” Natalie asked as Celeste placed the pastry in a box.

“If you agree to leave so I can finish my work in peace, I’ll consider it an even trade.”

“I can’t keep getting free strudel from you,” Natalie argued.

“It’s fine,” Celeste said, this time with a surprising lack of grumpiness. “It would be stale by morning.”

“Uh, thanks, then.” As she started to leave, Natalie blurted out, “I’ll send Shiloh over with some decorations tomorrow.”

“Why would you do that?” Celeste looked aghast.

“To decorate your place. I hired Shiloh to help me, and if that’s”—Natalie pointed to the sad bell—“your best effort for Christmas, I have to intervene. My shop window’s starting to look pretty good, and I don’t want you bringing me down.”

“For the love of St. Nick. If I promise to decorate for real, do you promise to leave me alone?”

“What if I don’t want to?” Natalie asked, her stomach tightening with the odd sense that she might be flirting. “I mean we’re neighbors. It’s only natural we’ll bump into each other.”

“That’s why God invented walls. Respect them.” Celeste flicked her hand to shoo Natalie away, but it wasn’t overly forceful, and she suspected Celeste was trying not to smile.

“Until tomorrow.” Natalie ducked out, laughing and wishing she could hear Celeste’s retort.

CHAPTER SIX

Celeste slapped a mound of dough down on the flour-covered work surface. Not happy with the pathetic whimper of a sound it made, she picked it up, squeezed it into a compact ball, and slammed it down again. This time it hit with much more oomph, shaking the portable kitchen cart with the impact. Even after the rumbling had stopped, there was a tap-tap-tapping that continued longer than Celeste thought it should.

What the heck?

“Wanna talk about it?” Joining her in the bakery’s kitchen, Annie leaned against the long row of cabinets that ran along one side of the space.

“About what?” Celeste’s skin began to itch with a claustrophobic feel. The kitchen was efficiently sized for working in but without a lot of extra room for two people to hang out and chat. At least, not without it starting to feel uncomfortably close.

Especially when she was in no mood to talk.

“I’m not sure, but it must be something,” Annie pressed, unaware, or not caring, how much Celeste was not enjoying this conversation. “Isn’t this when you usually go upstairs for dinner?”

“I can’t.” Celeste clenched her teeth. If there was one thing she liked less than impromptu heart-to-heart talks, it was having her routine disrupted. “Natalie negotiated for this to be her alone time on the second floor.”

“Natalie negotiated?” Annie frowned, seeming to chew the inside of her cheek. “That doesn’t sound like—hold on. This was your doing, wasn’t it? You had one of your I’m gonna lay down the law moments, and it backfired. Did you try to give her rules for sharing the apartment with you?”

“I don’t talk like that, for one thing.” Celeste blew a puff of air upward in an attempt to dislodge a piece of hair that had come loose from her headband and was dangling near her eye. “On second thought, whatever it is you think is bugging me—and I’m not saying anything is—I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I think if you’re going to survive however long it is sharing close quarters with a woman who clearly pushes some interesting buttons with you, it would be a good idea to open up the lines of communication and⁠—”

“Nope. Uh-uh.” Celeste gave her head a vigorous shake, which had the unfortunate side effect of loosening even more hair. She balled her fists to resist brushing it back with her floury hands. “Nothing good ever comes from talking about… things.”

There was that weird noise again. Or maybe it was all the frustration inside her, tapping on her skull in an attempt to get out.

“Yeah, that’s true,” Annie began in a tone that Celeste didn’t trust. Not one bit. “You have to hand it to therapists, though. The racket they’ve cooked up, getting people to pay them to listen. Pure genius.”

Celeste glared at her best friend but refused to engage. That was exactly what Annie wanted her to do, and Celeste was not going to make it easy.

“Don’t get me started on the fact the sessions aren’t even a full hour,” Annie continued, not even trying to disguise the Cheshire Cat grin that proved everything she was saying was an attempt to use humor to get Celeste to spill her guts.

Don’t engage, Celeste urged herself. Annie’s plan wouldn’t work unless she went along with it.

“They see you for fifty minutes, but you pay for an hour,” Annie rambled on. “Highway robbery if you ask me.”

“You pay for the session, not the length of time,” Celeste couldn’t stop herself from growling, because if there was anything she hated more than talking about her feelings, or being locked out of her apartment during what should have been her dinner break, it was hearing someone say something that was wrong and not correcting them.

“How would you know that, Ms. I’m Fine Keeping Everything Bottled Up?”

Dang it. Celeste had fallen for a classic Annie trap.

“I’ve seen it in movies,” Celeste said unconvincingly.

“Yeah, that must be it. Since you obviously don’t want to talk about who or what is bugging you, let’s chat about the shop decorations. We told Natalie⁠—”

“Don’t speak that woman’s name.” Irrationally incensed, Celeste held a doughy hand in the air. “Not ever. And, I never want to talk about Christmas, decorations, or even be in the same room with the colors red and green for as long as I live.”

Annie nodded knowingly. “I had a feeling this was about Natalie. Intuition, you know. Ever since she moved in⁠—”

“She hasn’t moved in. She’s here temporarily until…” Celeste didn’t finish the thought, not ready to confess to Annie about her hopes for closing up the shop for good.

Not that Annie would be left in the lurch. This was a temporary, part-time gig for Annie. She and Phil were trying to start a family, and when that happened, she wouldn’t have time to help at the bakery anyway. If anything, the need to close up shop was as much about looking out for Annie, keeping her from overworking herself out of loyalty when she had a family to take care of, as it was about Celeste’s desire for greener pastures in a bigger city.

Keep telling yourself that.

“You know what I think?” Annie asked.

“No,” Celeste mumbled, “but I bet you’re going to tell me.”

“If you insist. I think you like her, and you can’t admit that because if you do, it means you’re like the rest of us.” Annie flashed her gotcha grin, which left Celeste baffled because she had no idea what her friend was getting at.

“What does that mean? The rest of us?”

“Human.”

“Your theory is I don’t believe I’m human?” That brought a chuckle from deep within Celeste, despite her resolve not to let Annie score any points.

“You know what I⁠—”

“Wait.” Celeste put a finger to her lips. She could swear she heard that sound again, louder this time. “Do you hear that?”

“What? Your lack of a heartbeat. Are you going to tell me you’re a vampire?”

“No, shush.” Celeste cocked her head, but the sound was gone. “I keep hearing a tapping sound, but I can’t find the source. It’s driving me bonkers.”

“You’re driving me insane, and if you think I’m going to let you distract me, you’ve got another thing coming,” Annie scolded. “I don’t get why you can’t admit you like Natalie. Every time she’s in the room, your eyes follow her like you can’t get enough.”

“I’m begging you, Annie. Please stop. I don’t have the mental bandwidth for this tonight. I need to get these cinnamon rolls ready for the church raffle tomorrow.”

“Church?” Annie made a face. “Since when do you go to church?”

“I don’t. I…” Celeste drew a quick breath, realizing she’d backed herself into having to admit to one of the things her mother used to do for people in town that Celeste had continued to do since her mother’s death. “Look, Pastor Kelly was there for my mom in her final days, you know? When she asked for donated baked goods for the raffle, what was I supposed to say?”

“Hey, if you’re turning to religion in your hour of need, what with your mom and all⁠—”

“I’m not turning to anything. I’m baking a few dozen cinnamon rolls, and I can’t do that while also entertaining whatever psychobabble you’ve gleaned from watching all of those happily ever after flicks where a woman leaves her life in the big city to marry a man in a plaid shirt and work boots who…” Celeste’s brain whirred for an example to throw at her overly chipper, movie-obsessed friend. “Who probably owns a Christmas tree farm that’s been in the family for generations, but it wasn’t until the gorgeous city girl with the MBA suggested the genius, never before heard of move of creating a Twitter account that he could finally save the farm and fill the hole in his heart. Oh, and don’t forget his seven-year-old daughter who needs a new mom.”

“Did you watch last night’s movie? The daughter was so cute!” Annie pressed her palms together.

“No, I didn’t!”

Yes, she had. And she had regurgitated the entire plot on command, right down to the plaid shirt. Annie would never buy her denials, but it didn’t mean Celeste would stop making them. Watching a few Christmas movies was no big deal. Like making cinnamon rolls for the church.

She was still herself, damn it!

The bell on the door tinkled, and Celeste’s gaze shot up.

“If that’s her, I’m going to—” She grabbed a rolling pin, thwacking it against her palm, enjoying the stinging sensation that took her mind off the other feelings coursing through her.

Annie poked her head into the cafe. “Steady, killer. It’s that guy from the other day. What was his name, you know, with the friend? I’ll take his order and ring him up before I head home for the day.”

“No, it’s okay. I’ve got him.” Celeste’s heart beat a little faster as she wiped the flour from her hands. If, in addition to the Christmas movie revelation and the church raffle confession, Annie also found out about Operation Klaus, Celeste would never live it down. She’d be accused of being a nice person for the rest of her natural life. Which she would probably spend in prison because she would be forced to commit murder to prove it wasn’t true.

“I don’t mind staying,” Annie argued.

“Annie, go,” Celeste said a little harsher than she normally would, but she really needed Annie to scram so she could get Sean his free meal. Oh God. Maybe she was nice. And to make matters worse, Annie looked sad now, and it was her fault. Celeste softened her tone. “I’m sure Phil can’t wait for you two to cue up the next schmaltzy holiday flick. Go on.”

“Are you sure?” Annie scooted closer to Celeste as she cast a glance toward where Sean was standing, looking around like he wondered where everyone had gone. “He’s an odd one.”

“I’ll be fine.” Celeste wiped her hands on a towel one last time, jerking her chin toward Annie’s coat by the back door, dismissing her.

“Sorry for the wait,” Celeste called out, making her way to the front. “Hi, Sean. What can I get you?”

“I think there was a mix-up the other day.” He held out a twenty-dollar bill. “This ain’t mine.”

“It’s not mine, either.” Celeste frowned. Had the man gone back and forth this whole time about whether or not he should keep the money? She’d never encountered that reaction before. That did make him an odd one, though not in the way Annie had meant.

Sean’s jaw tightened, his shoulders straightening. “I know I needed some help with food, but I didn’t come here for no charity.”

“Me? Charitable?” Celeste tipped her head back, laughing like a mad woman. “Ask anyone in this town if I’m the giving to charity type. Maybe you had that twenty in your pocket and forgot.”

Though he was still holding out the bill, Celeste could see Sean’s resolve waver. He needed that money way more than she did, and they both knew it. Finally, he put the money in his pocket, a look of defeat shadowing his eyes. “I’m not useless, you know.”

“I would never say or even think such a thing.” Celeste frowned as her ears tickled with that tapping sound yet again.

“What was that?” Sean whipped his head around in the direction of the noise like he’d seen a ghost.

“You heard it too?”

“Are you messing with me?” He glanced back to Celeste, but there was another sound, this time more like a metallic ping, that pulled his eyes back to the source.

“I keep hearing a sound, but I can’t find it.” Celeste edged around the counter, standing next to Sean as they both stared at the wall where the sound had seemed to originate. “Like some sort of medieval torture.”

“It’s water dripping.” No sooner had Sean said this than a large portion of the ceiling and drywall came crashing down onto their heads. Celeste screamed, her arms flying upward to protect both herself and Sean.

Water was pouring everywhere. From upstairs, Celeste swore she could hear the faint sound of cheerful, oblivious singing.

“Get me a bucket and some towels!” Sean shouted, snapping into action with a surprising air of authority. “Where’s the main shutoff valve?”

“How the hell would I know?”

Sean pointed to a spot at the back of the kitchen. “Try over there by the sink. It’s probably bright yellow.”

“Are you a plumber?” Celeste asked as she rushed to turn what was indeed exactly where Sean had said it would be.

“Used to be.” Some of his newfound confidence seemed to slip away.

“Looks like you got a new client.” Celeste told him, willing to give him every penny she had to make this disaster go away. “Tell me what you need.”

Sean started listing items, and Celeste mentally ticked them off after either supplying him with a tool or answering a question.

It took fifteen minutes to staunch the flow of water and deal with the worst of the flood. The wall was in ruins, with wallpaper beginning to peel in strips. But at least there were no new torrents of water to add to the damage.

“I’ll come back in the morning and have a look if you want,” Sean offered, mopping his brow but looking pleased with himself.

Sloshing through puddles, Celeste went to the refrigerator and packed up a few sandwiches for Sean to take with him. “Absolutely. I want you back here tomorrow bright and early to survey the damage, and I expect you to charge me the going rate for your services.”

“Yes, ma’am. Minus the cost of these sandwiches. We’ll consider that twenty-dollar bill a down payment of sorts.” He saluted as he left the shop, walking a little taller down Main Street.

Her heart felt lighter, at least until she looked back at her shop and saw the complete wreckage that had occurred.

This was Natalie’s doing. Celeste was sure of it. She’d been up in the apartment singing, doing who knows what. The pipes were old and finicky. She knew it, and Pam had known it, too. This never would have happened if Natalie hadn’t come to stay.

Celeste stared up at the hole in the ceiling, cursing the day Natalie had come into her life. Nothing that should have been simple had gone right since. Selling the building was on hold. The cat kept coming in from the alley. She had all these feelings that she didn’t want to talk about, and Annie kept forcing her to anyway. Now, there was a god-awful mess to deal with.

Balling her fists, Celeste marched toward the staircase that led to the second floor. If nothing else, she was going to give Natalie Dunbar an extra-large piece of her mind.

CHAPTER SEVEN

How could this have happened?

Natalie stood in her bookshop in the fresh morning light, gaping at the hole in the ceiling with a mounting sense of horror. On the other side of the wall, the damage was equally as extensive. From upstairs, banging sounds reverberated as Sean—the plumber who happened to have been on hand or else this whole thing might’ve been even worse—tried to get to the root of the issue. The spectacle had been bad the night before, especially with Celeste yelling the whole time about how this was all Natalie’s fault, but to see it in the full light of day was both terrifying and demoralizing.

Natalie continued to stare, wishing she didn’t have to look at the still-soggy mess a second longer, but it was better than the alternative. If she looked away, she’d have to contend with Celeste’s menacing glare. Natalie feared she might lose a layer of skin, possibly two, under the intense burn of those searing eyes.

“How could you let this happen?” Celeste said for probably the hundredth time since storming into Natalie’s private quarters the night before.

Natalie stiffened at the accusation. Despite the obvious urgency of the disaster, it had not escaped her attention that apparently rules about respecting closed doors didn’t apply to Celeste. She’d come barging in like she was being chased by hellhounds.

Or like she was leading the pack.

“As I told you last night,” Natalie replied icily, “not once in that five-page list of instructions you gave me, along with your rules and regulations, did you tell me the hot water tap on the shower had to be lifted up just perfectly to ensure it wouldn’t leak if I used the sprayer.”

Even now, Natalie didn’t fully understand what Celeste had even meant by the weird collection of hand motions she’d demonstrated when trying to explain what had gone wrong to cause this disaster.

“You said you’d come to stay with your aunt before,” Celeste said with an accusing tone. “How did you not know about the issue?”

“I was six years old!” Natalie never would’ve guessed she would be screaming this at the top of her lungs, on tippy-toe for extra emphasis, no less, at a woman who was so hard-headed one had to go ballistic to be heard.

“What? This is my fault?” Celeste pressed a hand to her chest. It was clear from her puffed cheeks and wild eyes that she wanted to say a lot more, but at that moment Shiloh’s father, Frank, who was a local contractor, arrived with a small crew to begin the task of providing an estimate for the construction repairs.

He took one look at the mess and let out a low whistle. “Geez.”

Geez, indeed.

Both Celeste and Natalie were reduced to silence as the crew got to work. There was an audible groan as Frank pulled back a damaged section of drywall, and Natalie was certain it wasn’t because he’d smashed a finger with a hammer or something. Whatever he’d discovered wasn’t good, and no doubt he dreaded delivering the news to the Grinch of Rainbow Falls.

“Ladies,” Frank said, approaching them tentatively after the inspection was complete. “I have good and bad news. Which do you want first?”

Natalie answered with good, while Celeste opted for the bad. They both stared daggers at the other.

“You’re probably aware the dividing wall between your shops is a relatively recent addition. Taking it down would be the easiest solution.”

“Is that the good news, or the bad?” Natalie asked, realizing he’d never said which he was about to deliver. She craned her neck to inspect the hole above her head, which appeared bigger after whatever the workers had done to look at it. “Won’t the ceiling come down without a wall there?”

“You mean more than it already has?” Celeste crossed her arms over her chest.

Natalie bit back a reply but didn’t quite manage to stop herself from sticking out her tongue.

“Real mature,” Celeste hissed.

Frank shifted in his steel-toed boots, clearly trying to avoid looking directly at either of the women or acknowledging their childish antics. “It’s up to you, of course. But I would recommend removing the wall entirely. It’ll make addressing the pipe issue in the upstairs bathroom easier, and honestly, it’s poorly constructed and not load-bearing. That’s the quickest and cheapest option.”

Celeste grunted then looked past Natalie. “How long would it take to put it back to the way it was before?”

“Trying to shore up the existing structure and make it look decent would be a losing, not to mention expensive, proposition. The old wall would still need to come down. We’d have to pull new permits, new electrical, bring it all up to code.” Frank shrugged at the endless bureaucracy of it. “Plus, the building inspector’s office is backed up right now, and you’d need a new certificate of occupancy before you could live or work on the premises. I’d plan on being closed for a few months, minimum. Maybe longer.”

“All for a stupid wall? I can’t afford to shut down for so long. Not if I plan to reopen ever again.” Celeste’s tone made it sound final and given the state of Natalie’s pocketbook, she agreed.

At the mention of expense, some of the life had seemed to drain from Celeste’s face. The reality of how much this mistake, honest as it was, would likely cost them, even with the cheap option, filled Natalie with guilt.

“This section can be completely uncovered, and the ceiling won’t cave in?” Natalie asked again to be certain she understood. “We won’t be in any danger whatsoever?”

“None at all,” Frank confirmed. “It’ll be exactly like the space used to be before the wall went up when we’re done with it.”

Natalie turned to Celeste, still feeling bad about the position she’d inadvertently put them both in. “That sounds like a good way to deal with this, don’t you think?”

“Do I think it’s a good idea to open up the wall and go back to how things used to be so that my cafe gets completely consumed by your bookshop?” Celeste’s eyes flashed with heat. “No. I do not. What will that do to the resale value of the property?”

“I don’t know.” Natalie hung her head, the full reality of the situation sinking in. If she did decide to go along with Celeste’s proposition and sell this place before heading back to San Francisco, an option that looked more likely considering the current disaster, had her mistake made it so they would both lose money on the deal? “Maybe you should call that Realtor friend of yours and ask.”

“Yeah. Maybe I should.” Celeste pulled her phone from her pocket. A burst of noise from the bathroom upstairs stopped her short. “I think I’ll take this outside.”

Natalie remained rooted in place, her head swiveling from the work crew finishing up their assessment of the doomed wall to Celeste outside in an animated conversation on her phone. Except for the damaged area and related debris, the shop looked perfect. Natalie’s heart clenched. After so much hard work, she’d finally gotten the shop ready to reopen, only to see the dream wither on the vine.

Seeing through the front window that Celeste was putting the phone back in her pocket, Natalie went to join her. She braced herself as she stepped outside, uncertain whether she was doing so more because of the frigid air or against whatever Celeste would relay from the Realtor. Celeste appeared pensive but not devastated. That was good.

“Well?” Natalie asked.

“We’re in luck. Greg says there might be a buyer for a single retail space, but he recommends not investing any extra in trying to subdivide the space or set up the individual businesses again until the person has a chance to do a walk-through.”

Natalie swallowed, a little overwhelmed by all the information coming at her at once. “What are you saying? We can’t reopen when the work is done?”

“Not if we want to sell quickly. And Natalie?” Celeste paused, a certain earnestness replacing her usually sarcastic demeanor. “I do want to sell. I can’t face rebuilding after all this.”

“I…” Natalie let out a heavy sigh. “I understand. And even if I didn’t mean to do it, this is my fault.”

“Then you agree?”

Natalie kept quiet a moment, taking in the side-by-side shop windows. The Christmas decorations were up, and though Celeste had never added her mother’s collection, they were still beautiful.

A tear slid down Natalie’s cheek. “Your window looks really good,” she said, her throat growing tight.

“Yours does, too.” Celeste let out a long breath. “It looks like you were almost ready to re-open. I’m sorry that got messed up.”

“Yeah.” Natalie’s brain reeled a bit from the unconditional niceness of Celeste’s statement. Where was the snark? It was almost like Celeste wasn’t such a grinch after all. “I was planning on having a big grand opening tomorrow. Oh no!”

“What’s wrong?” Celeste’s expression was one of genuine concern.

“The grand opening.” Natalie had been mid-sentence when she realized she’d forgotten something vital in all the mayhem. “I invited my friend Lucy to come from New York and do a surprise author reading and book signing for the town.”

“I guess you’ll have to uninvite her,” Celeste said, though not unkindly.

But Natalie shook her head. “I can’t. I confirmed it with her yesterday by text before all of this happened. She’s traveling up to Burlington by train, and I’m supposed to pick her up later this afternoon.”

“Today?” Celeste squeezed her eyes shut. “What are you going to do?”

Panic made the edges of Natalie’s vision go black. “I don’t know. The shop’s a mess. The upstairs bathroom is out of commission. There’s no place for her to stay. The grand opening can’t happen, and I… I…”

“Breathe.” Celeste’s hands were on Natalie’s shoulders, holding her steady. “Why don’t we go back inside and find out from Frank what the timeline is for the cleanup and repairs before you hyperventilate?”

Natalie nodded and struggled to remain upright when Celeste removed her hands. For one desperate moment, Natalie wished the woman never had to let go.

Get a grip on yourself. Natalie was horrified at how rapidly she was falling apart, while Celeste, who had so much more invested in her half of the building, considering it was her entire livelihood, appeared to be taking things in stride. Steeling herself for whatever bad news might lay ahead, Natalie followed Celeste back into the shop.

“I know it looks bad, but assuming we don’t run into problems, it’s mostly cleanup and a little patching once the wall comes down. You’re looking at maybe three or four days to get the downstairs serviceable,” Frank said when they asked.

“That short a time?” Natalie asked, her spirits lifting at the good news. Maybe, considering how easy it would be, Celeste wouldn’t be so keen to sell after all.

But then Frank pointed upward, and his expression grew grim. “The living space is another matter. That bathroom plumbing is the worst I’ve seen. We can get it done, but it’s going to cost you.”

As the muscles in Celeste’s jaw tensed, Natalie saw all hope of talking her out of selling slip away.

“How much?” Celeste’s voice croaked as she asked. Frank held out a handwritten work estimate with a dollar amount at the bottom that made both their mouths fall open. “What do we do now? Can we stay here while the work is done?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Frank replied. “But I called Ginny. She has two spare rooms available at her B&B. Considering the circumstances, she’s willing to give ’em to you for a song.”

“Oh no. Thanksgiving.” Celeste had the same aura of panic that Natalie had when she’d realized Lucy was on her way.

“What is it?” Natalie rested her hands on Celeste’s shoulders, recalling how the gesture had helped calm her.

It seemed to have the same effect on Celeste, who took several deep breaths before answering. “The pie orders. I have dozens of them. People all over town are counting on them for their Thanksgiving dinners.”

“Okay,” Natalie said in as soothing a voice as she could manage. “We’ll figure it out. Maybe this Ginny lady will let you use her kitchen. If it’s a B&B, she probably has a commercial license. That would work, right?”

“Good thinking.” Celeste offered a trembling smile. “I can make that work. Thank you.”

“Of course. If only I could think of what to do when Lucy arrives.” Natalie let out a long sigh. “She’ll be so disappointed. And I really thought the town would enjoy meeting her.”

“Well…” Celeste drew out the word, seeming to run an idea through her mind before sharing it. “What if they still could?”

“How?” Natalie gestured to the debris-filled space surrounding them. “She’s only in town tonight and tomorrow night before heading to a big event in Montreal. No matter how fast they work, Frank’s crew can’t perform miracles.”

“My friend Jane is one of the librarians at the local Smithfield branch,” Celeste told her.

“Where’s that?”

“Over by the town hall.” Celeste paused, frowning. “Smithfield is the town’s official name, you know. People call it Rainbow Falls because of, well, the waterfall out by the covered bridge on the way into town.”

“Yeah, I know. But it’s not only some people who call it that. It’s everyone, except you.” Natalie let out a laugh, something that was sorely needed after the stress of the morning. “I may not be from here originally, but I do have ties to this town. Same as you, I guess.”

“I guess so.” Celeste seemed to ponder this for a moment, a slight smile softening her features. “Anyway, there’s a meeting room over at the library that I bet you could use for the author thing. Just because I’ve never heard of your friend doesn’t mean nobody in town has.”

“Uh, yeah.” Usually Natalie would have had a snappy comeback to this type of statement, but instead she found herself flooded with doubt. Was Celeste right? Maybe the people here in Rainbow Falls weren’t as well-versed in literature as the crowds she was used to in San Francisco. Was this another example of something she’d screwed up?

“Do you have a flyer or something that we could post at the library?” Celeste asked, oddly not taking advantage of Natalie’s fragile mental state to pounce in the way she normally would.

Must be an off day for both of them.

“I have some stuff on my laptop but haven’t had a chance to print anything yet. I was going to do that today.” Natalie checked the time on her phone with a groan. “I’m going to need to leave for Burlington soon. After all this, the least I can do is be on time to pick up Lucy from the station. I hope she’ll understand having to share a room at the B&B tonight.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Celeste said with a laugh. “We all have to make sacrifices at times like these.”

“You’re not the one who might have to share a bed with your ex for the next two nights,” Natalie muttered. Her breath caught as she realized what she’d said. By the surprised look on Celeste’s face, the revelation that Lucy was her ex had not been anticipated.

“Huh. Well…” Celeste seemed unable to offer anything else, except a shrug. “Why don’t you email me whatever you have for this event tomorrow, and I’ll see what Jane and I can pull together while you go pick this Lucy woman up from the train station.”

“Really?” Natalie grinned, suddenly feeling like a weight had been lifted from her and she might float all the way to the ceiling. And then through the hole that led to the ruined upstairs bathroom.

That thought brought her back down to earth.

“Frank?” Celeste called out. “Is it okay if we go upstairs to pack some things?”

The contractor looked up from where he and his crew had been getting started on removing some loose drywall. “Yes, but be careful. That plumber you brought in, Sean, is going full steam ahead on the repairs up there. Where did you find him anyway?”

“He happened to be in the shop when it all went down,” Celeste said. “Wrong place at the right time, or something like that.”

“Well, he’s a gem. Found some stuff I overlooked,” Frank admitted. “I’m keeping him on for this job, and if it works out between us, I may bring him on full-time. I’d say maybe it was the right place and the right time. I’ve been looking for someone with his skills for a while.”

To Natalie’s surprise, Celeste’s eyes grew misty. So far, in the span of less than an hour, Celeste had offered to help Natalie pull together an author reading, shown genuine concern for a blue-collar guy she’d just met, and her snark had evaporated. It was baffling—and more than a little unsettling the way Natalie’s tummy was responding with flutters like a flock of humming birds had taken up residence.

Who was this woman, and what had they done with Natalie’s Grinch?

CHAPTER EIGHT

Celeste placed the last of the items she’d salvaged from Natalie’s and her own personal refrigerators, as well as the industrial-sized one in the bakery kitchen, into the community fridge. This was literally a refrigerator that had been set up outdoors next to the Crimson Market grocery store on Main Street, where people could leave perishable items for others in need so the food wouldn’t go to waste. Though she’d never needed a withdrawal, leaving food was something Celeste did regularly—another habit she’d learned from her mother—but she had more items than usual today given that her kitchen would be out of commission for the next three to four days.

Five to six, most likely. Or a week. Or more. Since when did a construction project ever run on time? A whip of wind lashed Celeste’s face, reminding her that her next stop would be warm and cozy. She set off at a brisk pace to the town library, a surprisingly grand structure of brick and stone that hinted at the prosperity the area had once enjoyed thanks to the mills that used to dot the banks of the swift flowing river as it made its way toward the falls that had given the town its name.

Celeste pulled the door open, fighting the wind, and stomped her feet on the mosaic tile entryway to encourage circulation to resume to her half-frozen toes. In the reading room, a fire crackled merrily in the tiled fireplace. Several patrons sat in overstuffed armchairs, books spread open on their laps. One of them, a middle-aged woman wearing a black shirt and white collar, was someone Celeste had hoped not to see, but it was too late to duck for cover.

“Celeste,” Pastor Kelly said in a loud whisper. She waved, and now Celeste was definitely obligated to stay and talk, beginning with explaining why she had failed to deliver on her promise of forty-eight freshly baked cinnamon rolls for the church raffle.

“Pastor Kelly.” Celeste’s stomach tightened, a combination of embarrassment and that nervousness she always got when speaking with a minister or priest, regardless of her mostly non-existent religious affiliation. “I’m so sorry about the cinnamon rolls⁠—”

“Think nothing of it,” the minister said kindly, compassion radiating from every pore. “I heard about the trouble at your shop. If you need any help getting back on your feet, I hope you know you can count on the congregation to lend their support.”

“I appreciate that.” What Celeste really appreciated was that in a small town, news traveled with such speed that it was rarely necessary to fill anyone in on a calamity. It made things so much easier that way. “But I do feel awful about the raffle.”

“Don’t you worry about a thing. Blake Orchards up the road stepped up with a huge donation of apple cider donuts. We’re practically swimming in them. I ended up putting half in the freezer for later.”

“Are you sure?” Celeste worried her lower lip with her front teeth. Falling short on a promise was not something she took lightly. “I know you rely on that fundraiser for so many of your programs.”

It was the church’s robust soup kitchen and food pantry, as opposed to their theological offerings, that had piqued Celeste’s mother’s interest several years ago when Pastor Kelly had first taken over the congregation that resided in the big white church with the tall steeple at the edge of the town common. It was also the reason Celeste continued the bakery’s tradition of yearly donations.

“The good news is our holiday craft fair is bursting at the seams. The past few years, with people staying home more, it seems every man, woman, and child in the county has taken up knitting, or quilting, or some such handiwork,” Pastor Kelly explained with a laugh.

“That’s great. Sounds like you’ll make a good profit from it this year.”

“There’s always a silver lining, right? I wish we had more room in the church hall to accommodate all the requests for tables. We’d make a killing.”

Celeste was about to ask if it was okay for a minister to want to kill anything, but she refrained. Instead, she said, “I’m really happy to hear it’s going well, despite my failure⁠—”

“Nope, none of that.” The minister held up her hand as if to stop Celeste’s words. “Are you familiar with Mary and Martha?”

Celeste frowned. “Do they live here in town?”

“They lived a bit before our time.” The pastor chuckled. “They were sisters, and Mary sat and listened to Jesus while Martha prepared all the food.”

“Martha was the good sister?” Celeste guessed.

“Depends who you ask. I firmly believe the world needs both types of people.” Pastor Kelly placed a hand on Celeste’s arm. “You, my dear, are most definitely a Martha. But it’s okay not to be sometimes. It doesn’t mean you’ve failed. Likewise, it’s okay to ask for help when you need it.”

“I appreciate you saying that.” In an unexpected way, Celeste did feel lighter inside, like some of her worries had been taken away. Not that she planned on taking the church up on any offers of help, but it was nice to know they’d be there for her if she did. “I’d better go find Jane.”

“She’s in the children’s room, I think.” Pastor Kelly’s eyes fell to the small satchel Celeste had slung across her chest. “But unless that thing is filled with cookies, I suggest you tread carefully.”

Celeste grimaced. She was known for bringing treats from the bakery to the library’s after-school programs, but today she arrived empty-handed. She seemed to be disappointing people everywhere she turned lately.

As soon as she entered the children’s room, one of the five kids listening to Jane reading a book for story time pointed at her, screaming, “It’s the cookie lady!”

All of them bolted off the floor, circling her, chanting, “Cookie lady!”

“Sorry kids,” she tried to explain. “Not today.”

“Children, please, let go of Ms. Wagner,” Jane instructed. “Remember I told you about her shop. We’ll have some graham crackers for a snack soon, but no cookies today.” She put the well-worn copy of Pete the Cat to the side of her chair and came to Celeste’s rescue, leading her to the circulation desk as an assistant took over the reading.

Celeste mouthed sorry, but Jane waved the apology away, laughing.

“I’m the one who should apologize for how rambunctious they get every time you come in, but you make the best cookies in town.” Jane gave her a sympathetic look. How much sadder would she look when she found out the shop would soon be closed for good? “How is it all going?”

“It’s cold out, and I don’t have much to do with all the construction being done at the shop.” Preferring to change the subject away from her own troubles, Celeste fished her phone out of her bag. “I was hoping you could help me with something for… my neighbor.”

“Pam’s niece?” Jane asked. “I heard she was in town and thinking of reopening the bookshop.”

“That’s all up in the air right now,” was all Celeste would say. “Is anyone using the meeting room tomorrow night here in the library?”

“Not that I’ve heard. Why?”

“I was hoping…” Celeste paused to correct herself. After all, this was Natalie asking for a favor, not her. “That is, I told Natalie I’d ask if it was available. She has some big-name author who was coming into town to do a surprise appearance at her grand reopening tomorrow, only now there’s not really a shop to reopen.”

“Oh dear.” Jane shook her head sadly. “To answer your question, yes. We’d be happy to host the event here. Do you know who the author is?”

“Lucy James,” Celeste replied after consulting the information Natalie had emailed her.

“I’ve heard of her.” Jane seemed impressed, and a hint of jealousy stirred in Celeste’s breast, though why she wasn’t sure. Was it because Natalie was a big city woman who rubbed elbows with famous people? Or was it because this particular famous person happened to be Natalie’s ex?

“Hopefully, there are others in town who have, too,” Celeste remarked. “I’ve got the details here. It’s very last minute.”

“I can put together one of our event signup sheets,” Jane offered. “You’re right, though. We’ll have to work hard to get the word out before tomorrow.”

“I don’t want you to go to any trouble,” Celeste was quick to argue.

“It’s literally my job,” the older woman assured her. She took the information and quickly made up an event poster and signup sheet. “There we go. What do you think?”

“It’s better than I would have managed,” Celeste said, taking the poster and tacking it to the nearby community bulletin board. “Let’s see if it does the trick.”

A moment later, a group of women walked past, stopping to look at the poster. Celeste waited, her pulse beating faster, but they continued on without signing up. The same thing happened a minute later when a single man walked past.

“Is anyone going to come to this thing?” Celeste wondered out loud.

“I’m sure there will be a few people.” But the way Jane said it made Celeste doubt she was telling the truth. Who would want to spend an evening listening to some boring author drone on about themselves? There wasn’t even going to be food.

A smile spread across Celeste’s face as the answer came to her. She took down the poster and handed it to Jane. “Hold onto this for a minute. I’ll be right back.”

Celeste dashed back into the reading room, catching Pastor Kelly as she was packing her bag to leave. “Would it be okay if I changed my mind about asking for some help?”

The minister looked up, a quizzical expression on her face. “Whatever you need, say the word.”

“It’s not exactly for me, but do you think you could spare a few dozen of those apple cider donuts?” If there was one thing Celeste knew about people, it was that they would do just about anything for free food. “There’s going to be an author coming to the library tomorrow night, and I think folks could use an incentive.”

“You can have the donuts, and I’ll even throw in one of the big coffee servers we use for Sunday mornings,” Pastor Kelly promised. “Who’s the author?”

“Lucy James,” Celeste said.

“I’ve never heard of her, but if she’s coming all this way, I’ll try to be there,” the minister said. “ I’ll send an email around to the church members, too. For free donuts and coffee, I imagine there won’t be many who say no.”

“Exactly.” Celeste grinned, more convinced than ever she was talking to a kindred spirit. “I really appreciate it.”

Celeste raced back to the circulation desk. “Do you have a black Sharpie back there?”

“I think so.”

Jane handed her the marker, and Celeste took the poster back. She scrawled free coffee and homemade apple cider donuts in large block letters on the poster and put it back on the board. The next group that was passing stopped to read the announcement and almost immediately came to the circulation desk, looking for the signup sheet.

“That was a stroke of brilliance,” Jane said as they left.

“Never underestimate the power of baked goods,” Celeste said with a laugh.

“With the bakery closed right now, what’s going to happen with the pie orders?” Jane’s expression was troubled, and Celeste recalled that the librarian always ordered one pecan and one pumpkin. “Thanksgiving is next week.”

“Frank has assured me the kitchen will be usable by the weekend,” Celeste said. “That should give me plenty of time to make the pies, even if the cafe won’t be open.”

Jane frowned, looking like she had been waiting for the word yet to follow Celeste’s statement and was growing worried when it didn’t. “How long will it be before you can reopen the cafe?”

“I’m…” Celeste was about to say she wasn’t sure and leave it at that, but this was Jane, one of the few people in town she’d talked to in the past about her desire to leave. “I’m wondering if this might be the sign I’ve been waiting for. After talking to the Realtor the other day, it’s possible the work that’s being done right now will actually make the place easier to sell.”

“I see.” Jane’s expression wasn’t exactly accusatory, but Celeste knew the librarian’s opinion on selling the cafe and bookshop almost certainly did not match her own. “Or, perhaps I should say we’ll see.”

Celeste put her hands on her hips at the singsong way Jane said the last bit, like she clearly doubted it would come to pass. “How come you never believe me when I say I want to get out of Dodge?”

“Because you’ve been saying that since the day you arrived, yet you’re still here.”

“Mom needed my help in the shop, and then she got sick.” Celeste turned her head, reading the titles of the books on the closest shelf to counteract the waterworks that threatened whenever there was the slightest mention of her mother.

“It was a terrible time.” Jane spoke softly, giving Celeste the space she needed to recover.

Celeste blinked away the last threat of a tear. “I can’t believe it’s almost been a year. I really thought I’d be in New York by now.”

“What does New York have that we here in Rainbow Falls don’t?” Jane asked this with such earnestness that instead of laughing, Celeste could only stare with her mouth open. “I’m serious! Aside from the obvious traffic jams, pickpockets, and sky-high rent, of course.”

“I don’t know. Maybe culture?” Celeste’s lips twisted wryly. “Opportunity? Adventure?”

“I’ll have you know, we have a rather famous author coming to town for a book signing tomorrow.” Jane tapped on the signup sheet, which Celeste was shocked to discover now had over a dozen names on it. “Maybe you don’t have to go as far as you think to find what you’re looking for.”

Celeste shrugged and left it at that. After all, how could she explain what it felt like to be an outsider—to both look different from and love differently than everyone around her—to someone who had been born and raised in a place and never questioned that she belonged? To be the only person of color in town? The only young queer woman in town?

No, strike that. With respect to that one facet of her life, Celeste was no longer alone. But considering who the other woman happened to be, she didn’t get much comfort out of the knowledge or the company. Instead, she felt confused, like everything inside her had been flipped upside down. Celeste hated feeling confused. Usually, she would bake something when she felt like that, but thanks to Natalie, she couldn’t even do that.

With no work that could be done, Celeste spent the next few hours reading near the fireplace. It was a rare moment of relaxation considering how hard she worked most days. That was another thing she wouldn’t miss when she left. Owning a small business was exhausting, and a baker’s hours could be brutal. What she would do when she reached New York, she wasn’t quite sure. But the sale of the building would provide enough of a nest egg to buy her some time to figure out what she wanted to do next.

It was getting dark when Celeste finally headed out again. Lights were coming on along Main Street, and Celeste was surprised to see how many shop windows had been decorated. Like Natalie had predicted.

Celeste found herself smiling at the thought of Natalie, which was weird.

The woman was an annoying know-it-all with pie in the sky daydreams. Yet, it seemed that Natalie’s idea about spreading the holiday spirit along Main Street hadn’t been too far off the mark. Once they set the example by decorating their own shop windows, others had followed. Maybe her new neighbor really was more of a business expert than Celeste had given her credit for.

Halfway down the street, two dark windows, side by side, marred the otherwise festive vibe. Celeste’s insides squeezed a sadness weighing on her. While everyone else was doing their job to be festive, hers and Natalie’s shops were a big bah humbug. Just because their businesses weren’t open didn’t mean Celeste couldn’t turn the lights on.

The workers were gone for the day when Celeste slipped through the back door of the bakery. Tarps were laid out all around, and it was hard to tell how much progress, if any, had been made. She worked quickly to plug in the lights in both the bakery and bookshop windows. With the heat turned off, it was hardly warmer inside than out. She was closing the door behind her once more when she heard a familiar meow in the alley.

“Sammy?”

The black cat appeared from behind the stairs and let out a tragic meow.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t have any food on me.” Celeste eyed the door, which she had already locked, contemplating whether she should go back inside for a scoop of kibble. She decided against it. The next few nights were going to be brutally cold, and no living thing had any business being outside without protection. With no home of her own right now, that was one thing Celeste couldn’t provide. “You know what, Sammy? I won’t be around here much longer. And Natalie will be heading back to San Francisco soon, too. I think it might be time to find you a proper home.”

The cat meowed, which Celeste took as agreement. She didn’t have a cat carrier, but there was a cardboard box next to the trash that hadn’t been broken down, so she scooped up the cat and plopped her inside, carrying the box to her car while it rattled and meowed.

“It’s okay,” she soothed. “There’s an animal shelter in town where they’ll take care of you until they can find you a nice family.”

Celeste brought the box with the cat into the shelter, but there was no one at the desk when she arrived. Even though it wasn’t her cat, she felt guilty, like she was abandoning Sammy. She’d be happy leaving without anyone seeing her. The computer was still on, and it was clear someone would be back soon, so she set Sammy’s box next to the reception desk where it was sure to be seen.

“Good luck, Sammy.”

The cat meowed a sad but resigned meow. With guilt still dragging at her, Celeste pulled out her wallet and took out all the cash she could find, setting it on the desk as a donation. What more could she do?

Nothing. Celeste was firm with herself about this as she went out the door of the shelter without looking back. She didn’t belong in Rainbow Falls, and she would be leaving soon. This was the best thing for everyone.

As she drove to the bed and breakfast, Celeste reminded herself of all the reasons she wanted to go to New York. She’d been happy there as a kid. There would be more opportunities to meet people who were like her and maybe to start dating again. Wasn’t Annie always getting after her about her lack of a love life?

At the thought of saying goodbye to Annie, Celeste’s eyes brimmed, and the street lights turned to sparkling starbursts. She blinked rapidly to clear her vision. Maybe thinking about Annie wasn’t the best idea.

The inn where she and Natalie had rented rooms was quaint and cozy, a renovated Victorian house with more charm than Celeste had ever seen, with the possible exception of when her mom used to decorate the cafe for Christmas. The thought of her mom brought a fresh stab of pain, and Celeste hurried toward the stairs to her room. A fire was going in the living room, and Celeste heard Natalie’s voice, followed by the sound of another woman laughing.

The famous ex, no doubt.

Celeste gritted her teeth, focusing all her attention on lifting one foot and then the other up the stairs. Once in her room, she flung herself onto the bed and closed her eyes, very much alone in the world. Sometimes she feared that was how it always would be.

CHAPTER NINE

“Oh my God, this is the best pizza.” Natalie swiped at a string of melted cheese that dangled from her chin.

“Almost as good as what I get at home.” Lucy dabbed a paper napkin to sop up the grease.

“Pretty sure it would rank higher if you didn’t do that.” Natalie waved to the napkin. “You’re getting rid of the best part.”

“Regrettably, my waistline disagrees with you.” Lucy bit into the now greaseless, or as much as possible, slice. “This book tour has been murder on my nutrition.”

“Oh, please.” Natalie rolled her eyes. “You look great. I don’t think you’ve changed a bit since college.”

“Sure, other than the husband, the baby, and the extra ten pounds on my hips,” Lucy joked. “You’re the one who looks amazing. Last time I saw you, when I was on the west coast, you were in a constant state of stress. But now, it’s like you’re glowing. Running a small-town bookshop really agrees with you.”

“I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you took a detour to Rainbow Falls on your way to Montreal,” Natalie said. She took an extra-large bite of pizza, pretty sure the cheese was all over her face again and not caring. “I’m sorry you came all this way for nothing.”

“Hey, it’s not for nothing,” Lucy told her. “The event at the library tonight might not have been the original plan, but I think it’s cool. And I’m getting to have a scrumptious pizza with one of my best friends. What more could a girl want?”

Natalie chuckled, but some of the stress she thought had been left behind in San Francisco gnawed at her belly. “I can’t believe my bad luck. I’ll be honest. I thought fixing up this shop and getting it ready to turn over to a manager before heading back home was going to be a cinch. An easy win. And I can’t begin to tell you how much I need one. But it’s turning out to be much harder than I expected. Between this and what happened with Rumsford on Twitter last month, maybe I’m not cut out for business.”

Lucy grasped Natalie’s forearm and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t beat yourself up. You’ve had a few setbacks lately. It happens. Hey, I have all forty-seven rejection emails for Just Breathe to prove it. Eventually, it works out.”

“I hope you’re right,” Natalie said with a sigh, the stress of the past week hitting her with almost physical force. “I was so looking forward to opening the shop. I can’t explain it, Luce, but it was like I could feel my father and aunt cheering me on. I was half considering packing up and moving here to run the place myself.”

“Give up your job?” Lucy’s eyes widened. “That was your dream life, a job in the city, power suits, the whole nine yards. I thought you had it all.”

“Until I messed it up. I’m not sure staying is going to be an option when I go back in January. But that’s not the only reason,” Natalie added, anticipating her friend’s counterargument. “There’s something about being in a place where people know each other, where they care and help out their neighbors. Things feel real here. They never felt that way in San Francisco.”

“I’m a city girl,” Lucy said, a slight shudder giving away her true feelings about the small-town life Natalie was praising. “But if you love it here and want to stay, do it. Make that dream come true.”

“I’m not so sure that’s feasible anymore.” Natalie’s eyes misted. She wanted so badly to wrap herself up in the warmth of her friend’s cheerleading, but reality was a bit colder. “It’s looking like Rainbow Books might be permanently stuck in the slush pile.”

“Why’s that?”

“Those stupid pipes and the ceiling…” Natalie cringed, unable to put the scene into words. “It was terrible. The contractor had a fix for it, but it significantly changes the space, creating one big shop instead of two.”

“You said it’s a bakery next door?” Lucy clapped her hands together when Natalie nodded. “That’s brilliant. A bookshop and a cafe are like peanut butter and chocolate, the perfect sweet treat.”

“I’m afraid the owner is more like a bittersweet chocolate at best.” Natalie thought for a moment. “Wait. Does that make me the one who’s nuts?”

“If you pass up this golden opportunity, yes.” One thing about Lucy, she’d never pulled her punches.

“The thing is, Celeste is like you. She’s done with small town living, and I think she would have moved a long time ago except her mom got sick and needed her here,” Natalie explained. “Then instead of agreeing to sell, Aunt Pam left the shop to me. I still don’t understand that one.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“We each own half the building, and let me tell you it’s a weird setup. We share a bathroom, like back in the college dorms.” For some reason, the recollection of all the times she’d burst in on Celeste made her want to laugh instead of filling her with embarrassment. “Finding a buyer for half the building was a losing proposition. She really needed the other owner—which is me, now that Aunt Pam is gone—to agree.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to agree,” Lucy was quick to point out.

“Maybe not,” Natalie said with caution, “but I think I already kind of did. Celeste was so mad about the wall, and the Realtor said there’s a potential buyer. I just wanted her to stop being mad at me.” Natalie’s shoulders slumped. She rested an elbow next to her empty pizza plate and cupped her hand to her forehead.

“Oh dear. There’s the stressed-out Natalie I remember.” Lucy’s lips pressed together into a tight line. “You know what I think? I think this Celeste woman is a big, mean bully. You need to stand up to her and tell her what’s what.”

“It’s not like that,” Natalie found herself arguing. “She’s not mean. Not all the time. She’s… Celeste. Hard to pin down, but there’s a lot more to her than she shows the world. She has this shell around her, and I don’t think standing up to her is the way to win her.”

“Win her, huh?” Lucy’s expression turned sly. “You’re doing your best not to tell me the whole story, but I’m starting to see how it is.”

“What? No—” Natalie scooted back in her seat as she caught her friend’s meaning. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh.” There was no mistaking the disappointment on her friend’s face. “Celeste is straight?”

“Actually, no, but⁠—”

“Hold the phone there, missy.” Lucy’s enthusiasm was a bright flame once more. “You don’t get to be all like, my feisty new neighbor is totally of the sapphic persuasion, but let’s talk about real estate instead, okay?”

“We’re not dating or anything,” Natalie protested with the mounting sense she was losing this battle.

“What’s the name of the bakery?” Lucy had her phone in her hand, “Rainbow Sprinkles, right? Yeah, here’s the website. Is this her? She’s hot.”

“That’s not relevant,” Natalie said, turning her head to avoid looking at the photo of Celeste on Lucy’s screen. She would have argued Celeste wasn’t hot, but they both had eyes, and that photo didn’t lie.

“Have you seen her naked?”

“O-okay…” Natalie spluttered. “That was a technicality, though.”

“Oh my God, I was joking!” Lucy’s hand flew to her mouth. After several seconds of silent laughter, she was gasping for breath.

“You remember the shared bathrooms in our dorm,” Natalie said in her defense. “Two doors and you had to remember to lock one and unlock the other all the time so the other suite didn’t get locked out. Things happen!”

“I remember.” Lucy waggled her eyebrows in a way that might have been taken as flirty had Natalie not known her friend was happily married.

Natalie crossed her arms with a pout. “We’re simply neighbors, and not for much longer.”

“All kidding aside, are you sure there’s nothing more?” Lucy wadded up her napkin, tossing it onto her half-eaten slice. “I’ve seen that look in your eyes⁠—”

“There’s nothing in my eyes.”

“Yes, there is. I think you’re falling for this meany-pants neighbor of yours, and if you ask me, she’s not good enough for you. Neither is this town, for that matter. But the heart wants what the heart wants.” Lucy flicked her fingers in a c’est la vie manner.

“I have no idea what my heart wants.” Natalie sighed.

What she’d told her friend was only partly true, but she couldn’t bring herself to admit the rest. It wasn’t like she could confess that after twenty-four hours of not seeing Celeste, at least in passing, she missed the silly bickering, the teasing, the way they had of rubbing each other in all the wrong ways—that ended up seeming oh so right.

Natalie felt her cheeks turn hot at the unintentionally naughty way that thought had sounded in her head. She attempted to cover the evidence by pretending to choke on the last bite of pizza.

“You okay?” Lucy handed her a glass of water.

“Fine,” Natalie said as she took a sip.

But she wasn’t so sure.

* * *

The meeting room in the library buzzed with energy as the author chat came to an end. Lucy moved to a table where stacks of her new book had been placed, and folks lined up for the chance to buy a signed copy.

For a last-ditch effort to save herself from embarrassment, Natalie was stunned at the evening’s unbridled success. Absolutely no one was leaving yet, still soaking in the environment as if they had nowhere else they’d rather be. The library was the happening spot in Rainbow Falls tonight. Who would’ve thought?

For the past four days, ever since the unfortunate ceiling incident, Natalie had tried every trick she knew to stop herself from dwelling on whatever next disaster was sure to be coming. She’d done sudoku puzzles. Read books. Taken long walks. Listened to marketing podcasts. She’d done it all to keep her mind from focusing on the one thought flashing over her head in neon red.

FAILURE.

It was the entire reason she was in Rainbow Falls, because a daring, groundbreaking campaign she’d planned and believed in with all her heart had gone disastrously wrong, dragging down a good company and good people in the process. After her attempt to reopen Rainbow Books had also met with calamity, Natalie hadn’t been convinced she’d ever see success again.

In the corner of the room, standing in such a way that she was nearly invisible, Natalie spied Celeste watching over the crowd. She wore a plain sweater and jeans, her hair pulled back in a no-nonsense ponytail that accentuated her chiseled cheekbones. That was probably accidental. Everything about the outfit the baker had chosen seemed designed to keep people from noticing her. For the most part it was working, but Natalie’s eyes were drawn to the woman like the proverbial moth to a flame.

Or maybe it was the crumb-covered platter next to Celeste, the one that had been piled high with apple cider donuts at the start of the night, that drew Natalie’s attention and piqued her curiosity. Not so much the platter itself, but the questions it raised in Natalie’s mind as to how it had ended up there in the first place.

The marketing material she’d sent to Celeste had mentioned nothing about donuts. Truthfully, providing refreshments had never crossed her mind. It should have—the sugar and cinnamon crusted donuts and fresh, hot coffee had been a big part of the festive, almost party-like atmosphere that had made the evening such a success.

Celeste hadn’t baked them. Her kitchen was out of commission, and while the owner of the inn had generously offered the use of hers to make Thanksgiving pies if it was needed, Celeste had been reticent to take her up on it. But even though Celeste hadn’t physically made the treats, Natalie was sure the woman was the one behind them. The same woman who had been avoiding her all night, as if they were strangers and she preferred to keep it that way. Even now, she wouldn’t turn to make eye contact. What was it that made her so insistent on keeping herself apart from the people around her?

“I can’t believe the turnout, Nat,” Lucy said, wrapping one arm around Natalie’s shoulders after the final books had been signed. There wasn’t a single copy left. “This is incredible. And to think you were convinced you’d lost your marketing mojo.”

“They’re all here for you,” Natalie said, unwilling to take the credit when she knew in her heart she didn’t deserve it. “I’m sure you get this at every signing you do.”

“Are you kidding me?” The shock in Lucy’s voice seemed so genuine it took Natalie by surprise. “Getting people to come to these events can be harder than pulling teeth. The one I’ve got in Montreal tomorrow night, for all the publicity my publisher has put behind it, is unlikely to draw half this crowd. Great idea, serving the donuts, by the way. Nutrition be damned. It can’t get more fall in New England than this.”

“I can’t really take credit for that,” Natalie began as a young woman inched closer, anxiously holding a hardcover book with a hopeful expression as she sought to catch Lucy’s eye. “I’m pretty sure the food was Celeste’s idea.”

“Celeste the sapphic baker?” Lucy teased, jacking her eyebrows up and down, looking more like a cartoon character than a serious author.

Ignoring her, Natalie looked pointedly to the woman with the book. “I think you have a fan who wants to talk to you.”

“And you have someone you should go talk to, don’t you think?” Lucy’s eyes darted to the corner. “She’s not what I imagined. For someone who grew up here, she looks a little lost. Maybe you should offer to walk her home. Full moon. Starry night. All signs point to romance. I’ll catch up with you later.”

Before Natalie could argue, Lucy was taking the book from her fan, engaging in the type of chitchat that probably meant the world to the young woman.

Though she’d seen Shiloh there earlier with her parents, Frank and Carol, the family appeared to have left. Another quick search of the space turned up no one Natalie could reasonably use as an excuse to keep herself from checking in with Celeste.

As Natalie crossed the room, her heart beat faster with each step as she headed to join the woman in the corner. She chalked this sudden increased cardiac activity up to anxiety, since Celeste took any opportunity to find something to yell at her about. Surely, that was all it was.

What was the plan, anyway? Play it cool? Go on the attack? Something in the middle?

Casual, Natalie told herself. Act casual.

Celeste gave Natalie the once-over as she approached. “Are you trying to give me nightmares about all the Thanksgiving pies I have left to bake?”

Natalie gripped the hem of her sweater, which had the words Gobble, Gobble emblazoned across it, along with a cartoonish turkey. “My mom sent it before she left for Japan. Kind of an inside joke. I’m known in my family as the enforcer of no Santa before the turkey.”

“You?” Celeste’s tone was easily ten times more sarcastic than it needed to be. “Miss Let’s get the entire town to turn into the North Pole?”

“That’s different.” Natalie tried to argue, though she knew there was no winning against Celeste. “That’s business.”

“It seems to be working.” Miraculously, there was no hint of teasing in Celeste’s tone. She sounded sincere.

“Oh?”

“Have you not seen? All up and down Main Street, the windows are decorated and covered in lights.”

Natalie crossed her arms. “You’re not trying to make a fool out of me, are you? Like I’ll go out there, and there won’t be any decorations, and you’ll laugh all the while pointing at me for all of the town to see?”

“Natalie, I would never do that.” Celeste put a hand on Natalie’s shoulder, the unexpected contact sending a shiver through her. “That sweater you’re wearing is already doing a better job than I ever could.”

“Mean!” Natalie declared, shrugging off Celeste’s hand, though she regretted the decision as soon as she’d done it. “Now I don’t know whether to believe you or not.”

“Come on. I’ll show you.”

Donning their coats, the women headed out of the library. Lucy had been right on the money. The velvety black sky was filled with stars, which seemed to be echoed all along Main Street in the twinkling lights of a dozen or more window displays.

“I can’t believe it,” Natalie breathed. It wasn’t exactly like her memories of the town from childhood, but the transformation from the day she’d arrived was striking nonetheless. Her eyes panned the length of the street, stopping at the twin windows of the bakery and bookshop, all lit up despite the businesses being temporarily closed. “Are those our lights?”

“What?” Celeste’s squawk sounded strangely guilty, and Natalie stifled a laugh. “I guess Frank must’ve turned them on.”

Sure, he had. Celeste could deny it all she wanted, but Natalie was starting to see the truth. Beneath it all, like a dog who was all bark and no bite, Celeste Wagner was a big ol’ softy.

As they started to walk in the direction of the inn, Natalie was ready to tease Celeste about this sudden onslaught of Christmas spirit when a gust of wind caught her short, stealing her breath with the cold air. She pulled her jacket closer to her chest, wishing she’d zipped it. She’d forgotten how frigid Vermont could get at night. She could try to zip it now, but with her luck, the thick gloves she had on would get both her hands stuck. Although lately, it did seem her luck had been changing.

“Thank you for tonight,” Natalie said, even more certain now that her companion was the one responsible for the evening’s success.

“What’d I do?”

“The donuts and coffee.” Natalie paused a beat, taking Celeste’s lack of denial as all the proof she needed. “If it hadn’t been for you, tonight would have been yet another failure to add to my resume.”

“Are you including the ceiling leak on that list?” Celeste prodded in an oddly quiet tone, the words softly traveling through the cold night, tickling Natalie’s ears. “Because I may have been a bit hasty blaming you for that one.”

“I wasn’t, but if I could get that confession in writing, I’d greatly appreciate it.” Natalie shut her eyes momentarily, knowing she needed to come clean about why she was really in Rainbow Falls but dreading that moment when Celeste would look at her differently. Like she was a failure. Because it was true. “The thing is I had a rough patch at work before coming here. It’s why I came in person instead of letting Max handle the bookshop for me.”

“Does that mean you were intending to sell?” For once, there was no hidden barb in Celeste’s words.

“I was, and now you’re really wishing I’d stayed in San Francisco. I know I’m a stranger in town, but there’s something about this place that has always felt like home to me. Maybe because my dad grew up here and I need to be closer to him.” Natalie hadn’t intended to let her emotions overwhelm her, but as she finished talking, her chest constricted, making her wheeze for air.

“I feel that way, too. About my mom.” For a minute, it seemed like Celeste wanted to say more, but at that moment, they reached a point where the sidewalk split into two paths. One went directly to the inn and the other went through the town common, by way of the large white gazebo in the middle. “Do you mind if we take a slight detour? It’s a beautiful night.”

“Why not?” Though it was cold, the blast of wind had been a one-off. Looking up at the stars, Natalie had to agree. It was a beautiful night. “What is it with New England and gazebos? I don’t think I’ve seen more than one or two of these in all of California, but they’re everywhere here.”

“Absolutely. I think it’s a law that every small town has to have one.” Celeste’s eyes sparkled as they climbed the gazebo steps and stood beneath the soft glow of the moon. Behind her usual snark it was clear there was genuine affection for the place where she lived.

“Why are you so set on moving?” Natalie felt compelled to ask as she took in a view so charming it belonged on a postcard.

A wisp of a cloud skittered across the moon, shielding half of Celeste’s face. She heaved a long, anguished sigh. “I don’t think I belong here. It’s as simple as that.”

Natalie wanted to refute what Celeste had said, starting with how people had responded to her efforts tonight, but sometimes it was better not to argue and try listening instead. “Why do you think that?”

“This was my mom’s dream, to live in a town like this. She came through on a fall foliage tour one year, and it stuck with her. When she found out the shop next to your aunt’s was for sale, that decided it. I was a senior in high school, but she never asked me.”

Natalie bobbed her head, understanding. “Our parents have a way of making decisions for us, even when they’re gone.”

“That they do.” They stood side by side quietly for a moment before Celeste asked, “Why do you feel so connected to this place? A quick tour is one thing, but after almost a month, most city people would be counting the days until they could go home.”

“I’m not sure I can explain it. Perhaps I’m reading too much into things, but—it feels right. In here, you know?” Natalie clutched her sweater over her heart. To be clear, she added, “In my heart.”

“Yes, I’ve heard some people have those,” Celeste deadpanned as Natalie dissolved into laughter. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. You were saying?”

“The first day I arrived, I thought I was in the wrong place. It looked so different from what I remembered. Then, when I was in the apartment with Max and he was showing me around, I looked out the window and saw the church steeple. A calming sensation washed over me for the first time in a very long, tortuous while.” Natalie leaned against the gazebo railing. “Kind of like right now, in a way. Is that weird?”

“No. I think I feel it, too. A calm.” Celeste shrugged. “You wouldn’t think so, considering the chaos we’ve endured, but yeah. It’s a nice feeling.”

One they both seemed to be experiencing simultaneously, which was very interesting, Natalie couldn’t help but note.

“I think I don’t want to leave because I don’t want to let go of that sensation. I’m afraid everything around me will crumble to the ground.” Natalie shuffled her feet, suddenly aware she’d been staring deeply into Celeste’s eyes.

“I know what you mean,” Celeste whispered, swallowing.

There was the briefest moment where the image popped into Natalie’s mind of the two of them kissing. Even though it was in her imagination, it felt so real that her entire body tingled from it. Her breath caught, and she had to look away.

The moment passed.

“I’m sorry.” Natalie giggled nervously, still overcome with the rush of sensation that had flooded her and the confusion that followed. “Did you agree with me?”

“Don’t get used to it.” Celeste smiled, her entire face lighting up.

As they left the gazebo and continued to the inn, all Natalie could do was ask herself why she had let the moment pass her by.

CHAPTER TEN

“I can’t believe what I’m seeing.” Standing beside Natalie in the middle of the massive new space that had once been both their shops, Celeste took a breath and held it to keep from passing out. Her eyes were closed so tightly not a speck of light could enter.

“You’re not seeing anything if you don’t actually open them, you know.” Natalie slid her hand into Celeste’s to give it a supportive squeeze.

For a moment, Celeste’s world stopped spinning, the touch of Natalie’s hand anchoring her. It was over much too soon. Or maybe just in time. Natalie let go at precisely the moment Celeste sent up a wish that they could hold on forever.

A very dangerous thing, wishes. It was probably better if they didn’t come true. The reality was bound to disappoint. Although in the case of the shop renovation, reality for once appeared to have lived up to the hype, and then some.

Slowly, Celeste risked opening her eyes so she could take it all in.

“It’s amazing!” Celeste heard herself saying, or at least she thought it was her, but couldn’t recall if she had ever sounded so elated over anything in her life. “Beyond amazing. Beyond my wildest imagination.”

Frank gripped the sides of his orange construction vest, bobbing his head, looking as pleased with himself as a man who had saved Christmas for a village full of orphans. He had every right to be proud of his work, which had been masterfully done. All traces of the old wall were gone, the ceiling perfectly patched, and the floor gleaming.

But at this exact moment, none of them were looking at any of that. They were too busy ogling what the removal of the wall had revealed: a nearly ceiling-height, double-sided built-in display cabinet that spanned nearly half the space. It was made of carved walnut in the finest Victorian-era craftsmanship, and had been the centerpiece of the old shop, until some fool had decided to build a wall right around it and hide it from sight.

“I couldn’t put my finger on what was missing, but every time I came in here, I knew it looked wrong.” Natalie ran a finger gently along the wood, which had been restored to nearly new by several coats of furniture wax. “It was here the whole time.”

“I can’t believe your aunt’s old contractor covered it up,” Frank said with a huff. “Actually, if it was Pete, I can believe it. But I’m surprised Pam let him get away with it.”

“She was grieving,” Celeste said gently. “When my mother and I first moved here, she was so sad. Her partner had recently died. Grief makes people do funny things.”

Really funny things, Celeste thought, like want to run away from home to a far-off city where it would be too bright and noisy to feel sad ever again. Was that what her overwhelming desire to leave had been about? Did she think deep down that she could outrun the hole that losing her mother had left?

Not wanting to focus on this right now, Celeste skirted around the massive display piece to her own side of the shop. It was truly a work of art, custom built and completely unique.

“I’ve been wanting more space to put baking accessories and specialty goods. This doubled—no, tripled—the merchandise I can have out to sell.” She completed circling the beautiful shelf, landing back in the bookshop, next to Natalie’s side, taking a deep lungful of something fresh and sweet. Violets, perhaps? “When Annie gets back, she won’t even recognize the place.”

“Are she and Phil still on vacation?” Natalie asked.

“Until tomorrow,” Celeste answered. “They’ve been wanting to start a family, and I think these few days off with the bakery closed gave them a good excuse to go somewhere romantic and get to work.”

“First of all, that’s the least romantic way you could’ve possibly explained it,” Natalie said, her shoulders shaking with laughter. “But despite that being way too much information about Annie’s personal life, I wish them well. Can’t you imagine this place with a little Annie or Phil riding around on a tricycle?”

Yes, Celeste could. The vision of it was so real and beautiful it made emotions well up inside her that she didn’t have words to name. How in the world could she leave now? How could she even consider selling the shop when it had become, by a strange twist of fate, exactly what she wanted?

Celeste wasn’t naive. While the price Greg had quoted her was a princely sum for a small town, it wasn’t like she’d be able to afford anything comparable to this in New York City. Not unless she got a sudden desire to start building miniatures. Heck, even then, Celeste probably wouldn’t be able to afford an apartment with enough storage place to display them in the Big Apple.

Celeste’s eyes caressed the gleaming wood of her gorgeous new shelf. She wanted to throw her arms around it and ask where it had been all her life. She was that much in love with it.

“Frank, what you did here was amazing.” Celeste swallowed a lump of emotion that threatened to garble her words. “I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

“About that…” The pink started to drain from Frank’s face, and his usually confident hands fell to his sides where he started to twist the fabric of his pants nervously. “That’s actually why I asked you two to come in here today. Remember how you told me to go ahead and do whatever needed to be done to get the inspector to sign off on the certificate of occupancy?”

“Yes…” Celeste’s stomach clenched. The building was useless without an up-to-date certificate, but she didn’t like the way Frank was avoiding looking her in the eyes.

“Be frank with us, Frank,” Natalie said in all seriousness.

Celeste nearly choked at the terrible pun. She wasn’t entirely sure if Natalie had intended to make a joke, which made it all the funnier.

“What are you snorting about?” Natalie snapped, but the spark in her eyes tickled Celeste even more.

“Nothing.” Celeste tried and failed to rein in her laughter. “I think I’m a little punch drunk from all of this. Although I get the feeling what Frank is about to tell us will sober me up. Frankly.”

Celeste giggled as Natalie stared at her like she’d gone stark raving mad. Which it felt like she had. She was giddy, and Celeste Wagner was not a person who indulged in giddiness. Something was seriously wrong with her.

“I’m very sorry, ladies. The downstairs work went smoothly, as you can see, but upstairs is where the problems came in. I didn’t feel right diving into it until I got the go-ahead because it’s… more than we discussed.” Frank’s hand shook as he held out the paperwork. When Natalie took it, her eyes doubled in size.

“It is a tad high.” Much like Natalie’s voice.

Celeste held her breath as she inspected the bill. Holy mackerel. No wonder poor Frank had lost all his color. Celeste was pretty sure she was doing her best ghost impression as well.

“That’s… a lot.” Celeste didn’t want to break down into tears, but she was close. She didn’t have that kind of money. From Natalie’s reaction, it was a fair guess the other woman was in the same leaky boat. “What happens if the work doesn’t get done?”

“We could cap the pipes and get it so you could turn the water on down here, but the apartment would be uninhabitable.” Frank’s expression was downright grim.

Celeste turned to Natalie. “Looks like a choice between broke or homeless.”

“We’d be happy to set up a payment plan, of course,” Frank was quick to say. “Interest free.”

“That’s generous,” Natalie responded, like she was trying to cling to any hope.

Celeste nodded. It was generous but also completely impractical. On the one hand, not doing the work simply wasn’t an option. But even interest free, it would take much longer to pay the bill than Frank and his crew should have to wait. No, there was only one way she and Natalie could raise that kind of money.

They’d have to sell the building.

Celeste wasn’t sure if she wanted to scream or break something. Maybe both. Wasn’t there a place where people threw plates at the walls? That sounded perfect, although Celeste was pretty sure that was for celebration.

She was in no mood to celebrate.

Why was it every time she started to make a decision about the shop, something happened to throw a wrench into the works?

“This means we’ll have to sell for sure, doesn’t it?” Natalie asked in a voice barely above a whisper, as if reading Celeste’s internal thoughts.

“We should discuss that.” Celeste refused to say it for certain, not while she could still sense the magic of this place as clearly as she could smell that lovely violet scent. “In the meantime, I guess we’d better authorize Frank’s crew to finish the work upstairs.”

“We’ll have it done and the water turned back on down here by Monday,” Frank promised.

“That long?” Celeste bit her lip as she consulted the calendar in her head. It was Friday morning, which meant another three nights at the inn with all the costs that entailed, plus a huge rush to get the Thanksgiving pie orders completed. Anxiety gnawed at the lining of her stomach.

“You should have electricity, though,” Frank said with a brightness that suggested he sensed her worry. “So while you can’t use the kitchen, you can start setting up your shop the way you’d like it if you want.”

Celeste put out her hand for Frank to shake, hoping it would remain steady enough not to betray the turmoil she felt inside. “Thank you for everything. You’ve done amazing work down here, and I’m sure upstairs will be the same. I think Nat and I need some time to talk about how we’re going to pay you for it.”

“Totally understand.” Frank rested a hand on one of the newly exposed shelves, gazing at it like a proud papa. “It’s a real beaut. The whole place. It’s like removing that wall breathed the life back into the space.”

Once Frank was gone, Celeste sank into one of the tarp-covered cafe chairs that was on her side of the room and rested her head against her palm.

“Nat, huh? I guess the wall between our shops wasn’t the only one to come down.” The woman’s massive grin, quite out of place considering they’d both been handed something akin to a financial death warrant.

“I’m sorry,” Celeste said automatically, stunned that she’d allowed herself to be so informal. “Do you not care for the nickname?”

“I love it,” Natalie replied, taking a seat beside Celeste at the small cafe table.

“It seemed natural to give you a nickname, I think, considering the mess we’re in together. A true shame because this is a game changer.” Celeste’s lower lip began to tremble, her eyes filling with tears as she looked around the space that was so close yet ultimately out of her grasp.

“Are you saying…?” Natalie’s chest rose and fell rapidly as she seemed to consider what Celeste was hinting at but hadn’t outright said. “Do you mean you truly don’t want to sell anymore?”

“No. I don’t.” Celeste went ahead and told the truth. What use was there in lying about it? “But it hardly matters what I want when we have that bill to pay.”

“Don’t say that.” Natalie’s tone was firm, though, not harsh, and she put her hand on Celeste’s for emphasis. “It always matters what you want. The thing is, I’ve been looking at my aunt’s financial statements, and if I go by some of her really good months, I think I could pay my half within a year. Surely, Frank would see that as fair. Or maybe we could get a small business loan to tide us over.”

“The numbers sound right,” Celeste agreed, having reached a similar back of the envelope calculation herself. “But I think you’re missing the key words: good months. You can’t predict when you’ll have those and when you won’t.”

“Hey, now.” Natalie patted Celeste’s hand, the familiarity of the gesture keeping her rooted, like Natalie’s hand was all that stood between her and falling apart. “Whatever my recent missteps, I still have a degree in business, and I know for a fact you have more control over those good months than you think. What we need to do is drum up more customers.”

“That’s a super serious business plan right there.” Try as she might, Celeste couldn’t curb a smile. “Was it Stanford you graduated from or⁠—”

“Are you going to let me finish or simply mock me?”

Considering how adorable Natalie looked with one eyebrow cocked, her head slightly tilted in that way she had when she was annoyed, Celeste’s vote was for mocking.

“Can’t I let you finish and mock? I mean, I can walk and chew gum at the same time.” What could Celeste say? The result worked for her, in a pretty big way.

Natalie shook her head, but the hint of extra pink in her cheeks made Celeste suspect the woman had at least a vague awareness of exactly how much it was working for her right now. If things were different, what she wouldn’t give to put her hands on Natalie’s flaming cheeks this very second and plant a kiss right on her lips.

“What if we make the Christmas festival bigger?” Natalie said, quickly bringing Celeste back from her daydream. “The locals are getting into the spirit on their own by putting up decorations, but we need more. Lots more. Enough to get media attention and catch the eyes of influencers.”

“Influencers?” Celeste could only imagine the look of disdain on her face right now. “I don’t think that’s something we do here in Vermont.”

“Oh, honey. I’m thinking way beyond Vermont.” Natalie was so wrapped up in what she was saying that she didn’t seem to notice she’d called Celeste honey.

Celeste noticed, though. “How big are you thinking?” she asked as she tried to calm her racing pulse.

“You should have seen Rainbow Falls back in its glory days, when Kovack’s Department Store was open and the festival was in full swing.” Natalie’s eyes grew dreamy, producing a look that was as alluring as Natalie had been annoyed. It was almost like any version of Natalie was appealing.

Celeste was shocked at the revelation, but she couldn’t deny it. She rose quickly and moved to the window, seeking a distraction and to put a little space between herself and her suddenly very appealing neighbor.

“Kovack’s may not be open, but the building’s still there, and according to my Realtor, the owner is desperate for tenants. The other day, Pastor Kelly said she’s had to turn down people wanting tables for the church craft fair because they’re out of space.” Celeste looked out the front window, staring at the empty storefront across the way. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“The craft fair was always the heart of the festival, but I doubt the church will want to pay rent on a whole department store,” Natalie replied.

“What if we ask the landlord to let the church use it as part of the festival? I’m sure he’d be willing to get paid in tokens for heaven⁠—”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how the afterlife works,” Natalie said with a laugh. “But you could be onto something. If the church can use it to expand the craft fair into a bigger festival, it would be a tax deduction for the owner and maybe a chance for a prospective tenant to see the building.

“In that case, I’d better call Greg to let him know this building is off the market, at least for now, and ask about Kovack’s. If the owner is agreeable, I’ll get in touch with Pastor Kelly. After that, we have some Christmas decorating to do.”

“I thought your decorations were already up.” Natalie nodded her head toward the modest display of pine garland and baubles in the bakery window.

Picturing the boxes and boxes of traditional German decorations she’d stowed in the basement after her mother’s passing, Celeste couldn’t help but smile a little at the prospect of retrieving them. She’d never expected to, and it would probably cause a moment or two of pain to see her mother’s collection of favorite decorations again now that she was no longer here. But Celeste knew it would be worth it to see Natalie’s reaction when they opened the boxes together and Natalie got to take in the whole collection for the first time.

Ornaments made of delicate blown glass and handwoven straw. Whole scenes carved in wood with parts that moved from the hot air of a candle. There were enough to cover every surface with old world charm and beauty. Natalie would lose her mind over it.

“You wait here. I’ll be right back.” Celeste’s smile turned into a grin. “But brace yourself. You have no idea what you’re in for.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

At the sound of her name, Natalie’s head bobbed up from the shipment of books she was unboxing. She’d been at it for hours, and though she’d enjoyed one of Ginny’s hearty breakfasts at the inn before starting the work day, it was well past noon, and her shoulders ached as her stomach started to grumble. Between decorating and restocking, they’d been at it for three days, and sometimes it felt like there was no end in sight.

“I’m over here.” Natalie’s arm shot into the air, and she wiggled her fingers in case Celeste hadn’t seen. She smiled when Celeste started coming toward her. Maybe they could take a break and get some lunch.

Celeste stopped a few feet from where Natalie was seated cross-legged on the floor, stuffing her phone into her back pocket. “Pastor Kelly called. The volunteers are almost done setting up at Kovack’s, and she said they have a surprise for us.”

“Is it pizza?” Natalie asked, praying for a party-sized pie with extra cheese and pepperoni.

“I doubt it was food.” Celeste’s mouth twitched, but Natalie couldn’t tell if it was humor or hunger. “I think I’m done here. How about you?”

“This was the last of the new books to unpack,” Natalie replied, holding up the empty box for Celeste’s benefit. “So unless you have any more decorations to spring on me⁠—”

“Are you kidding?” Celeste gestured around her. “Even if I did, where would we put them? Please don’t tell me this isn’t good enough.”

“Relax.” Hopping to her feet, Natalie wrapped an arm around Celeste’s shoulders. “Everything is perfect.”

Natalie took in the transformed space with a sense of wonder, almost unable to believe it was real. Every surface glistened, the air scented with lemon oil from cleaning and the fresh pine boughs that graced every nook and cranny. Books were displayed on one side of the massive Victorian shelving unit, and on the other, Celeste had arranged gift baskets, packages of gourmet goodies, and the kinds of upscale baking accessories that sold like hot cakes at Christmas.

Though the glass cases remained empty and would until early in the morning the day after Thanksgiving when they would be loaded with freshly baked treats in time for the rush of Black Friday shoppers, Celeste had changed the layout of the cafe tables to take advantage of the new floor plan and had set up a hot chocolate bar in one corner where patrons could add cinnamon, sprinkles, crushed candy canes, and more to their steaming mugs of cocoa or coffee until they had the perfect custom brew.

All of this was in addition to the artful display of what had to be the most beautiful assortment of Christmas decorations Natalie had ever seen. The entire place was magical. Natalie opened her mouth to say so, but the words caught in her throat.

“My mom would be so proud.” Celeste said it quietly, discreetly dabbing an eye before exclaiming with extra cheerfulness, “Let’s check out Kovack’s!”

“I can’t wait!” Natalie replied, pretending she hadn’t seen the flood of emotion that Celeste had barely managed to keep under wraps. It was how Celeste preferred things, Natalie was learning. It wasn’t that the woman was truly a grouch, as she’d first appeared, or that she lacked emotions. She simply needed to deal with things in her own way, in her own time.

Bundling up in jackets and hats, Natalie and Celeste left the shop through the front door and walked to the corner. The wind was blowing steadily, and Natalie kept her head bowed against it until they’d crossed the street. When she straightened up and caught her first glimpse of the windows in the building that still had the sign for Kovack’s Department Store across the front, she stopped in her tracks. No amount of control could have kept the tears from welling in her eyes and spilling onto her cheeks.

“Oh, my goodness,” she breathed.

Standing beside her, Celeste, too, seemed riveted. “Is this what it was like before?”

Natalie nodded, unable to speak. It was like she was six years old once more, riding on her father’s shoulders, lost in the wonders of each scene.

A different enchanting holiday scene played out in each of the eight windows of the historic building on Main Street. In one, a group of four life-sized mechanical children, their faces lovingly sculpted and painted to look almost real against the backdrop of a snowy landscape, were dressed in old-fashioned band uniforms, the instruments they held moving slowly up and down. In another, a family in a recreated Victorian parlor decorated a sparkling Christmas tree.

“I can’t believe it.” Natalie’s jaw dangled from her chin, threatening to dislocate as her eyes moved from one window display to the next. “They’ve found them all.”

“I’ll admit when Annie said they rivaled the ones in New York, I didn’t believe her. I was wrong.” Celeste didn’t even try to disguise the awe in her tone. “How could a little town like Smithfield have something as amazing as this? And why has it been hidden for so long?”

“Well, what do you think?” Pastor Kelly stood, beaming, in the open doorway of the old store. “Come inside; come inside. You’ll freeze out there.”

“It’s like it used to be,” Natalie said when they’d gone in from the cold. “Where did you even find them all?”

“Down in the basement, clearly marked,” the minister replied with a laugh. “Or, clearly marked if you knew what you were looking for, which fortunately some of the old timers in the congregation did.”

“They were in good shape, too,” said an older man with silver hair and gnarled but capable-looking hands, who’d come over to join them in the marble entryway that was every bit as grand as it must’ve been when it was built. “Needed a good cleaning, but when we plugged them in, they worked like a charm.”

“Amazing,” Celeste whispered. Her eyes were wide and her tone almost reverent as she took in the elegant interior of the store, which was mostly unchanged from when it had been built in the 1920s. “I had no idea this was here. The windows have been covered and the store closed as long as I’ve lived here.”

“Me too,” said the minister. “When you asked if we wanted to hold the Christmas craft fair here, I expected a big, empty box. I had no idea it was so elegant. In the past few days, we’ve gone from planning a slightly bigger version of the annual craft fair to people coming out of the woodwork wanting to recreate Christmas on Main Street the way it used to be.”

“Are you going to try?” Celeste asked, unable to hide her surprise.

“Yes, but not just the church,” Pastor Kelly corrected. “Everyone’s getting in on it. Even the mayor came by, wondering how the town could help. It’s been a while, but I don’t think the people of Rainbow Falls have completely forgotten how it used to be.”

“I remember my dad telling me Kovack’s was the biggest and nicest department store in the area.” Natalie closed her eyes, trying to remember what it had been like to come here with him when she was young. “It was still open when we visited, but I don’t remember much about it, other than the window displays. Dad told me they’d been built by a famous toymaker somewhere in Europe.”

“Slovenia,” said a woman who appeared to be in her seventies. She was carrying a quilt to add to a display table but had stopped halfway to join the conversation. “That’s where the Kovack family was from, I think.”

“Do you remember the pizzas?” asked a bent-over man who came up beside the woman, whom Natalie assumed was the woman’s husband.

At the mention of pizza, Natalie’s stomach let out a growl.

“I told you there might be pizza,” she said to Celeste in a loud whisper.

“They weren’t pizzas. Potato something,” the woman nearly shouted. Natalie jumped, her heart racing until she realized the woman wasn’t yelling at her but was speaking so loudly because the man beside her couldn’t hear otherwise.

“I forgot all about those!” exclaimed another older resident who was arranging knitted scarves on a rack nearby. “Mrs. Kovack would make and sell them at the lunch counter, along with a full turkey dinner for a dollar and a quarter. When those appeared, it truly made the holidays special. But it was more like potatoes.”

Pizzas? Potatoes? Natalie’s head spun as she tried to make sense of what these people were talking about. How could anyone confuse a pizza with a potato or vice versa? However, as Natalie was at her most confused, a look of understanding blossomed on Celeste’s face.

“Hold on. Are you talking about a pastry with layers of nuts in between?” Celeste drew a circle in the air with her index finger. “Sort of a spiral when it’s sliced?”

“Yes,” the bent-over man said, a smile curling his lips. “Do you know them?”

“Better yet,” the other man, the one with the silver hair, added, “do you know how to bake them?”

“I know exactly what you’re talking about, and the name is on the tip of my tongue.” Celeste tapped at her lips like that might make the word she was looking for come tumbling out. “Shoot. I still can’t think of it, but I do know how to make them. It’s a Slovenian nut roll with a brioche dough and walnut filling.”

“Yes, that sounds right,” said the woman holding the quilt.

“Cinnamon and lemon zest?” Celeste asked, and the woman nodded. “How about raisins?”

At this, the woman made a face. “I don’t remember raisins.”

“No raisins? Good.” Celeste gave a satisfied nod. “I don’t care for those either, and my version doesn’t have them.”

Natalie stared in amazement at this exchange. How had Celeste managed to get from the potato pizza thingamabob to a Slovenian nut roll? By now, at least a dozen of the parishioners from Pastor Kelly’s church had gathered around them, and several were talking excitedly all at once.

“You knew it was Christmas when that came out,” one person said.

“We used to bring them home to have with Christmas dinner,” said another. “Oh, what I wouldn’t give to taste that again.”

“Hey, Natalie?” Mischief and merriment twinkled in Celeste’s eyes. “Do you think Ginny was sincere about letting me use the kitchen at the inn?”

“I assume so.” Natalie frowned. “I thought you said you didn’t need to start on the pies until you got the bakery kitchen back tomorrow.”

“It’s not for pies.” Celeste didn’t say more, but Natalie caught on quickly to her meaning. “I could use a helper for rolling out the dough. It can get unwieldy.”

“You think I can manage it?” Doubts swarmed Natalie’s confidence. Cooking of any kind was definitely not her thing.

“I think you like my baked goods enough you’ll be willing to give it a try,” Celeste came back with a laugh.

“You know me well,” Natalie marveled.

“Come on. I need to pick up a few ingredients at the store.” Celeste quickly said her good-byes before they left the warmth of the old department store and returned to the chilly wind along Main Street.

“Potica,” Celeste said out of nowhere when they were halfway to Crimson Market, walking side by side.

“Is that what they’re called?” The word was pronounced poh-TEET-sah, and instantly Natalie understood where that whole potato pizza business had come from. Natalie’s belly, long deprived, sent up another appeal. “Well, they sound great. But do you think we could make another stop before we reach the inn? I’m dying for pizza.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

“I never thought I’d be so glad to see the inside of this apartment,” Celeste announced as she dropped her suitcases on the living room floor. Borrowing a page from Annie’s playbook, Celeste put her arms out and twirled in a circle.

“What was that?” The door to Natalie’s apartment swung open, and Natalie’s face came into view.

Stopping her spinning and lowering her arms fast enough that she hoped Natalie hadn’t caught on to what she’d been doing, Celeste motioned for her neighbor to come in. “I was saying how glad I was to be here. If you’d told me a week ago I would get tired of staying at a gorgeous bed and breakfast like Ginny’s, I’d have said you were crazy. But it really is nice to be home.”

“It is,” Natalie agreed, stepping over the threshold into Celeste’s half of the apartment. “I have to hand it to Aunt Pam. She really had a way with making things cozy. I feel more of a connection here than I do to my place back in San Francisco. Not that I’m likely to have it much longer.”

Celeste frowned. This was not something she’d heard before. “What do you mean? Is something wrong?”

“Just the dubious joys of city living. Even though I’m a professional with a full-time job, the cost of living is so high I share a townhouse with two roommates, one of whom owns the place. My lease renews in January, only it turns out those two have started dating, and now I’m the third wheel.” Natalie shook her head with a laugh. “It sounds so high school when I explain it.”

“It sounds like high drama,” Celeste corrected, cringing inwardly at the notion of having to maneuver through situations like that. She swallowed as it hit her she would likely face the same options, or worse, if she moved to New York.

“At least here, I only have to deal with one roommate, of sorts,” Natalie teased. “Even if she does have a list of rules a mile long.”

“I think we can forget about some of those rules—” Celeste began but was interrupted by a gasp from Natalie.

“Where’s Sammy?”

“What?” But she’d heard Natalie, loud and clear.

“Sammy. I was remembering the rule about keeping the door closed so the cat couldn’t get into your side, and then it hit me.” Natalie’s breathing was heavy, and there were tears in her eyes as her head swiveled frantically.

“I’m sure Sammy’s⁠—”

“I can’t believe we left her here!” Natalie’s face crumpled, taking on a look that was not necessarily attractive in the way many of her others were, but which did plenty of things to Celeste’s emotions. Like flipping them upside down and shaking them up like a cement truck.

“She’s an alley cat, Nat. She’s fine,” Celeste soothed.

“What if she isn’t? You don’t know!” Natalie’s tone was becoming increasingly desperate.

Celeste closed her eyes, blunting the wave of guilt washing over her. Sammy was fine, but that didn’t mean Celeste had done the right thing bringing her to the shelter instead of taking care of the cat herself. Or at least telling Natalie what she had done.

“Sammy!” Natalie marched to the back door that led to the outside stairs, opening it and calling out the cat’s name into the alley. “Sammy!”

Celeste groaned. Wasn’t this a pickle?

She knew exactly where Sammy was but couldn’t confess she’d taken the cat to the shelter the week before. Not unless she wanted Natalie to hate her for all eternity. She was pretty sure no amount of heaven tokens would buy her way out of this scrape.

Not seeing another choice in the situation, Celeste followed Natalie to the back door. On impulse, she put her hand on Natalie’s back. As if she’d pressed a special button, Natalie began to cry.

Oh, crap.

“I’m sorry, Celeste.” Natalie’s bottom lip quivered. “But I have to find Sammy. It’s so cold out and⁠—”

“What if we went looking for her?”

“What do you think I’m doing?” Natalie edged outside, calling for Sammy. “I should put on my coat and go downstairs.”

“I happened to hear a, uh, rumor that some of the animal shelter people have been bringing strays to the shelter to keep them warm with this cold weather we’ve been having.” That sounded plausible, right? Celeste prayed Natalie bought it.

Fortunately, this news made Natalie’s whole face light up. “Do you think Sammy’s there?”

Hopefully, she still is, Celeste said silently to herself. Out loud, she said, “Only one way to find out.”

The drive was mostly silent, aside from Natalie’s tortured sighs and the occasional shaking of her shoulder that wracked Celeste with guilt. Natalie wasn’t crying, but she teetered on the verge of a massive breakdown. Given everything that was going on, this wasn’t a good time for Natalie to crash and burn. Although, could Celeste really blame the woman if she did?

Celeste ticked off the things Natalie had been dealing with over the past few weeks.

One: her job back in San Francisco was on the line, and apparently her apartment, too.

Two: she was about to reopen her aunt’s shop, which no doubt provoked lots of strong emotions and memories.

Three: the ceiling had literally come crashing down.

Four: her ex had swept into town, looking fabulous and doing just as well, which no matter how much you still liked them and were friendly, always hurt a bit.

Five: the massive bill for the construction work.

Six: Celeste had kidnapped Sammy.

If she hadn’t been the one driving, that last one would have sent Celeste sinking into a tiny ball of shame next to the accelerator and brake pedals.

But while she couldn’t realistically fix half of the issues on Natalie’s plate, she could at least get the damn cat back.

In a sign that someone up above had been listening, the lady at the front desk of the shelter lit up when Natalie asked if they happened to have any black and white cats.

“We do! One like that was brought in a few nights back.” The woman, dressed in a holiday sweater that featured a cat dressed as Santa, beckoned them with a crooked finger. “Follow me.”

Natalie hung onto Celeste’s arm, smiling. “It’s a miracle, don’t you think?”

If it wasn’t the Big Guy’s doing, the fact Sammy was still here had to be the work of one of his helpers. Like an angel. Or an elf. To be honest, Celeste was a little unclear whether this was the result of God or Santa Claus. She was open to either one’s help at this point.

“Yeah… a miracle.” Celeste tried to swallow, but a ball of guilt blocked her throat, causing her to cough.

“You’re not getting sick, are you?” Concern swam in Natalie’s eyes. “I know a really good soup recipe that’ll fix you right up.”

“I’ll be okay.” Celeste was pretty sure if Natalie kept being nice to her like this after what she’d done with the cat, it would make her feel worse.

Natalie swooped the dazed cat into her arms the moment the woman lifted her from the cage.

The cat’s angry meow stabbed Celeste in the heart.

“She likes you,” the shelter woman said. “She’s been swiping at everyone, but look at that. You can hold her.”

“Can we take her home?” Natalie asked, nuzzling her cheek against the cat’s head.

“As a matter of fact, she’s just been cleared for adoption,” the woman replied.

“Adoption?” Celeste frowned. “She lives in our alley.”

“Oh, well you’ll have to agree to keep her inside if you decide to adopt,” the woman said reproachfully, making Celeste feel like she’d committed a crime by allowing the cat to simply exist in the natural habitat of an alley cat. “Unless you have proof of ownership? But I don’t recall this one having a microchip.”

“No,” Celeste confirmed. “She sort of showed up, but we would like to take her back.”

“Right.” The woman frowned slightly. “We’ll need you to fill out the paperwork, including the indoor clause, as well as a sworn statement that you’ll keep her and provide for her for the rest of her life.”

“Uh…” Celeste cast a frantic glance at Natalie. This was starting to sound less like adopting a cat and more like adopting a child.

“Pets are members of the family,” the woman said in an admonishing tone. “You can’t abandon them or drop them off at the shelter when they’re not convenient.”

Celeste felt about an inch high at this point and was grateful neither Natalie nor the woman working at the shelter knew she was responsible for bringing Sammy in. Even if the cat hadn’t technically been her responsibility.

But she would be now. And Celeste would take that as seriously as she took all of her responsibilities.

“I promise,” she said meekly.

“Great!” The woman’s chipper personality resurfaced instantly. “In that case, there’s the issue of payment.”

Celeste tensed. “How much?”

“Two hundred and fifty dollars,” the woman chirped as if that was a bargain for an alley cat.

It also happened to be the exact amount Celeste had left on the front desk to help the shelter take care of the little monster when she’d dropped Sammy off a few nights before. Celeste still wasn’t sure whether God or Santa was behind all of this, but whichever one it was had a wicked sense of humor.

“Let me get my wallet.” Natalie began to dig through her bag.

“Here.” Celeste took out her credit card, handing it over with a sigh.

She was now five hundred dollars in the hole for a cat that had started off free. As she went up to the front to sign the paperwork, Celeste wondered what the chances were that Sammy could learn how to bake. Cats were good at kneading, right?

“That cat’s gonna need to start pulling her weight,” Celeste muttered to herself, but even as she said it, she grabbed an extra bag of cat treats from a display near the desk. “Here. Add these to the bill.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“Mom, I know it’s dinnertime in Japan, but the sun’s not even up here in Vermont. Did you forget the time difference again?” Natalie stifled a yawn as she shuffled into the shop. Even if her mom hadn’t called, she would have needed to be up soon, anyway. She’d promised to help Celeste with all the last-minute pie orders that had been put on hold when the kitchen was closed. Natalie leaned against the edge of the massive shelf that divided Celeste’s side from hers, closing her eyes.

“I saw that little green dot that said you were on social media,” her mom explained, “so I knew you were up.”

“There’s a difference between awake and up,” Natalie started to say but quickly gave up due to lack of brain power. Her treatise on all the ways scrolling through her phone with one eye open differed from being fully functioning would have to wait for another occasion. “Now that you got ahold of me, what did you want to lecture me about?”

“Can’t I call to talk to my little girl?” her mom asked with a laugh, knowing Natalie was teasing. “But, now that you mention it, I did want to check that you’re sure you don’t want to fly to California and spend the holiday with some of Dan’s cousins. I hear it’s going to be eighty degrees in Riverside this weekend.”

“First, I’m enjoying the cold weather.” Wiggling her toes inside her fuzzy slippers, Natalie was surprised to find this was not a lie. Once she’d gotten used to dressing in enough layers, staying warm wasn’t nearly the challenge she’d thought it would be. “Second, are you seriously suggesting I try to buy a plane ticket less than twenty-four hours before the busiest travel day of the year?”

“I hate knowing you’ll be alone,” her mom whined. Even though Natalie was the one who would be missing out on a home-cooked dinner, something about the way her mom said it made Natalie feel guilty for not being able to celebrate. How did her mom do that?

“As it happens, Mom,” Natalie said quickly, “I do have plans. I’m actually meeting up with an old friend, and we’re going to have Thanksgiving dinner.”

“An old friend?” Suspicion lurked beneath her mom’s words. “Who?”

“Lucy.” It was the first name that popped into Natalie’s head, and she decided to go with it. “You remember, from college? She’s traveling for a book tour, and we reconnected recently. So, yeah. Thanksgiving dinner with Lucy.”

“Oh, Lucy! What a sweetheart.” Her mom sounded delighted, which had been the whole point of fibbing. “That does make me feel better. What about Christmas? I was thinking⁠—”

“We’ve already discussed this a hundred times,” Natalie said sternly. “You’re not coming home early, and that’s final. As soon as that little bundle of joy you’re waiting on arrives in the world, you won’t want to leave, and since the shop’s for sure going to reopen, I’ll be working every minute between now and Christmas Eve, anyway.”

“Working?” Her mother clucked her tongue. “You truly don’t know how to relax and enjoy a vacation.”

“I learned from the best. At least I went on my vacation and haven’t been looking for ways to leave early,” Natalie pointed out.

“What is all this work even for?” her mom asked, still sounding unconvinced. “Are you planning to give up your career and move to Vermont to run the bookshop full-time?”

“There are worse ways to live,” Natalie found herself saying, believing it was true. Surrounded by books, and with the delectable smell of baking pies wafting through the air from Celeste’s side of the shop, she might as well have been in heaven. “I don’t know what I’m going to do when January rolls around and I have to get back to real life. Maybe I’ll hire a manager. It could be a good side income.”

Or maybe she would stay, crazy as it sounded. Because with each day that passed, her life in Rainbow Falls felt more and more real. It was San Francisco that was starting to seem like the dream. Nightmare, even.

A clattering from the bakery’s kitchen had Natalie eager to end the call. “Look, Mom, I’ve gotta go. It sounds like Celeste could use some help.”

“Argh!” Celeste yelled as Natalie scurried into the kitchen.

“What’s wrong?” Natalie’s eyes darted around in alarm, though nothing seemed amiss. The exact opposite, in fact. Though it was still bright and early, every cooling rack was occupied by freshly baked, perfectly browned pies.

“I burned my finger on the edge of the oven door.” Celeste shook her hand vigorously as if to cast away the pain.

Natalie couldn’t decide whether to feel sorry for Celeste’s injury or amused at the little dance she appeared to be doing. “Isn’t that why they invented oven mitts?”

“Great observation, Einstein.” Celeste made a show of reading the time off the wall clock. “Ten after six. It’s about time someone showed up to help.”

“Watch it, woman. I’m a volunteer.” Natalie took another look around the workspace. “Where’s Annie?”

“Running late.” Celeste reached for a pie, making a face when Natalie frantically pointed to the oven mitts. “This one’s not baked yet. It’s safe.”

A cold blast of air hit them as Annie opened the front door. She took three steps in before coming to a halt, her mouth dropping open.

“This place looks amazing!” Annie, on the other hand, was a little the worse for wear, with disheveled hair and an unhealthy pallor.

“Are you feeling okay?” Natalie asked, unable to contain her concern.

“Celeste, your mom’s decorations are—” Without provocation, Annie burst into tears.

“What is going on?” Celeste demanded, coming out from the back and crossing to her friend in a hurry. “Did Phil do something? Do I need to start breaking his legs?”

Annie’s sobs turned into laughter, with a lot of huffing and puffing. “Please don’t hurt him. He hasn’t done anything… er, not anything I didn’t want him to do.”

“I’m not following at all.” Celeste draped an arm around Annie’s shoulder. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

Annie’s face went green. Puckering her lips, she shook her head. “I’m sorry my emotions are all over the place.”

“Did something happen while you were on your trip?” Natalie asked, equally perplexed.

“Sort of.” Annie dabbed her eyes with a sleeve. “I found out the day we left. We’re pregnant.”

“That’s wonderful!” Celeste tossed her other arm around her friend, squeezing her tightly. “Is it a boy or girl?”

“Probably one of those.” Annie laughed, making gasping noises.

“Celeste, let go, or you’ll smother her,” Natalie warned. She offered Annie a broad smile but refrained from hugging since the mom-to-be looked like she might pass out. “Congratulations. How are you feeling?”

“Like I’m at death’s doorstep.” She patted her stomach with more tenderness than her words might have indicated. “If my morning sickness is any clue as to this little one’s personality, this baby’s going to be a handful.”

“Is Phil over the moon?” Celeste asked.

“He’s strutting around like a rooster, kicking up his feet, like he’s done the most important part and everyone should praise him.” Annie acted this out for a moment before wincing, clearly thinking better of the exertion. “Sometimes I wonder how I fell in love with such a goofball.”

“You’re not the only one,” Celeste said with an extra helping of sarcasm, before quickly adding with a laugh, “I’m joking. Phil’s the best. You, on the other hand, look like you could use some rest. No offense.”

“Oh, please.” Annie rolled her eyes. “If I took offense at half the stuff you said, we wouldn’t be friends. But I would be lying if I told you I didn’t feel like climbing back into bed for a week. Plus, the smell of cinnamon is making me want to gag.”

“You need to go home.” Celeste pulled the edges of Annie’s coat, which she had unbuttoned, tightly closed. “No arguments. We’ve got the pies under control. Isn’t that right, Nat?”

“One hundred percent.” Natalie decided now was not the time to mention she had never baked a pie ever in her life. Unfortunately, it was also not the time to ask Annie why both her eyebrows had shot up five inches when Celeste called her by a nickname. Was there a significance here that Natalie was missing?

Annie allowed herself to be turned around toward the door without argument. “Are you sure you don’t want to come over tomorrow, Celeste? My mom’s doing all the cooking, so you’d be waited on for once.”

“Thanks for the offer,” Celeste said, giving Annie another gentle push toward the door, “but you know I always have plans with my cousin.”

It was only as Natalie’s heart sank that she realized she’d been counting on Celeste being around for the holiday. For some reason—perhaps because, despite baking enough holiday pies to feed an army, Celeste was the least festive person alive—it had simply never occurred to Natalie that the woman would have plans. She didn’t seem the type.

“How about you, Natalie?” Annie asked, even as Celeste was holding the door for her and jamming her through.

“Busy, I’m afraid,” Natalie said automatically. As with when she’d told the same lie to her mother, the last thing she wanted was to be pitied. “But have a good holiday, and congratulations again.”

“How about that?” Celeste said once Annie was gone. She shook her head a little, like she didn’t know what to make of the news, and it occurred to Natalie that as happy as it was, it also meant everything would be changing in Celeste’s world. After the year she had, it couldn’t be easy to contemplate.

Natalie opened her mouth to say something to that effect but was interrupted by a meow. She scooped up the cat and pressed her face into the soft black fur. “There you are, Sammy.”

“What is that cat wearing around her neck?” Celeste watched with an expression somewhere between horror and befuddlement as Sammy stretched her neck, showing off her brown and orange collar with a bow tie featuring pumpkins and turkeys.

“It’s festive,” Natalie said, perhaps more defensively than she’d meant, as if anticipating whatever insult Celeste was about to hurl at the cat’s neck attire and trying to head her off at the pass.

“That it is.” Miraculously, Celeste left it at that. “Come on, cat. Time for breakfast.”

Almost like she understood the words, the cat strutted to her bowl, obviously feeling fancy in her holiday outfit. Celeste opened a tin of wet food, and Sammy dove in.

“I don’t think she believes the meals will keep coming like clockwork,” Natalie remarked as she watched the cat inhale an entire can of food in record time.

“Hunger leaves a terrible mark on the psyche, whether of a person or an animal.”

“I imagine it must.” Natalie had been expecting a dig about the cat gaining weight or getting spoiled and was taken aback by Celeste’s serious and insightful observation. “I guess you won’t have to worry about that tomorrow, huh?”

“Why’s that?” Celeste donned her oven mitts as the timer blared.

“You know, at your cousin’s place.” Natalie grabbed the handle of the oven door to help Celeste get to the pies.

“What cousin?”

“You told Annie…” The reality of the situation hit her mid-sentence. “You made that up, didn’t you?”

“I…” An unexpected look of guilt passed over Celeste’s features. “I didn’t want her to feel sorry for me.”

Natalie started to laugh. “I told my mom I was having dinner with a friend tomorrow because otherwise I was afraid she’d feel so guilty she might hop on the next plane from Tokyo.”

“You’re not having dinner with Lucy?” There was a hint of relief in Celeste’s tone.

“No. She’ll be back in New York with her husband and kids, I assume.” Natalie paused, the gears clicking in her brain. “How did you know it was supposed to be Lucy?”

“I may have overheard you on the phone earlier,” Celeste admitted with an undeniable air of chagrin. “Lucy’s married?”

“Happily,” Natalie confirmed. “Wait. When she was here, you didn’t think that she and I⁠—”

“I didn’t think about it at all.” While Celeste clearly intended to shut down the conversation, was it a lie? Celeste’s mouth twitched exactly the same way it had when she’d told Annie she was having dinner with a cousin. “So, what are you planning to do with yourself all day tomorrow?”

“Get the shop ready for Friday’s grand opening, I guess.” Natalie shrugged. “I’ve never been a huge fan of Thanksgiving.”

“You’re kidding, right? You’ve been wearing ridiculous Thanksgiving apparel for days. Case in point.” Celeste gestured at Natalie’s sweatshirt, which read I Love Green Bean Casserole. “You even got Sammy in on the act.”

“Haven’t you seen Sammy’s photos?” Like a proud mama, Natalie couldn’t pass up the chance to display the lock screen on her phone. “I’m collecting them for the shop’s social media. People love cats in bow ties. Lucy even hooked me up with a photographer who’s coming by next week to feature Sammy in a Working Cats calendar. Isn’t that right, Sammy Whammy? You’re going to be famous.”

Sammy strutted past the shelf, with her tail in the air.

“Working cat?” Celeste lifted an eyebrow in a particularly beguiling way, the outcome of which was Natalie didn’t reply for somewhere between five seconds and a couple of hours. She wasn’t sure which.

“Uh… yeah.” Natalie gave her head a little shake to clear it. What had happened? Yes, Celeste was an attractive woman and all, but geez. It had been a long time since Natalie had experienced such a deer in headlights moment.

“What kind of work, pray tell, does our little feline friend here do?”

“She’s a shop cat. She hangs out in the shop. That’s her job.” Natalie pressed her lips together, still not feeling entirely herself.

“She sleeps in the display window,” Celeste argued, obviously not believing this to be truly classified as employment. “Like a spoiled little princess.”

“It brings in customers.”

“What customers? We haven’t reopened yet.” Celeste apparently had to point this out because she had a pathological need to always be right.

Which was actually kind of cute. Especially when she’d opened the treat jar halfway through her verbal smackdown and scattered a handful of tasty morsels on the floor for Sammy to gobble up. Was she aware how much she had contributed to Sammy’s current princess status? No way would Natalie point it out, seeing as how she preferred to keep all her limbs intact. That wouldn’t stop her from gloating silently over the secret knowledge.

“Do you want tea?” Celeste asked, flipping the switch on the electric kettle. “I’m going to make a pot.”

“Toss in some strudel, and you have a date—I mean, a deal.” Natalie blushed from the tips of her ears all the way down her neck. Had she really made that slip out loud?

Celeste retrieved two pieces of strudel from a plastic container. “Looks like it’s a… deal.”

Had there been a pause before that word, or had Natalie imagined it? Because it really felt deliberate. Or at least, Natalie sure wanted to think it had been. Like she wanted to think Celeste had been happy to discover she and Lucy were in no way romantically involved. There was no proof, but a girl could hope.

“Why don’t you go sit down at one of the tables? I’ll bring it all out when it’s ready.”

“You don’t have to serve me,” Natalie protested, embarrassment overcoming her once more.

“I know.”

It was such a simple statement, but it set Natalie’s pulse ticking so fast her heart sounded like a stopwatch on speed. She took a seat and was grateful for it. Her knees had gotten shaky for a moment. When had her very grumpy neighbor become so nice? And when had Natalie’s entire body started reacting to Celeste like this? Natalie was so out of breath and covered in perspiration she felt like she’d run a marathon.

When Celeste came into the cafe a few minutes later with two teas and the strudel, Natalie had managed to pull it together enough not to make a complete fool of herself. At least, probably not. But she found she was dying to talk to the woman who was still so much a mystery to her, maybe find out what made her tick.

What could be the harm in that?

“So, no plans tomorrow, huh?” Natalie lifted a teacup, blowing into the steam and not knowing exactly where she was going with that question. After all, it wasn’t designed so much to gather information as to be a segue into something else. Like an invitation to do something together, maybe…

“I never said I didn’t have plans.”

Deep inside Natalie’s brain, there was the sound of a needle scratching across a vinyl record, like a sound effect from a Scooby Doo cartoon. “I… guess I assumed.”

“I kind of have a standing engagement on Thanksgiving,” Celeste said quietly. “I don’t tell anyone about it.”

Natalie leaned forward. “I’m going to need a lot more details. You could be doing anything with a lead-up like that.”

“Don’t get too excited there,” Celeste cautioned with a laugh. “It’s nothing illegal, or even immoral. Sorry if that disappoints. It’s a tradition my mom and I had that I don’t want to give up.”

“What is it?”

“I hate to say.” Celeste’s face took on its familiar grumpy expression, though Natalie was starting to see there were shades of meaning to these looks that she had yet to figure out. “It sounds so cliché, and like I’m shouting hey, look at me.”

“Do you stand on a street corner dressed as a turkey or something?” Natalie guessed.

“In what world is that a cliché?” Unable to keep up her grouchiness, Celeste chuckled. “No. If you must know, I spend the day serving meals at a homeless shelter in Burlington. My mom and I would make a day of it. It’s a nice drive, and we’d help out then eat our dinner there with everyone and have a chance to talk and hear people’s stories.”

“That’s amazing.” Honestly, it was both the last thing Natalie would have expected and also somehow not a surprise at all.

“No, that’s why I don’t usually want to talk about it. People always say that, and we weren’t doing it to impress anyone.” Celeste took a sip of tea, her eyes seeming to cloud over a bit. “My mom was born in Germany, a few years after the war ended. Her father was in the Army. I don’t remember if I told you that part before.”

“I’d heard it somewhere,” Natalie said.

“By that point, things were still hard, but they were better than they had been. My grandmother… she’d had a son who would’ve been about five years older than my mom. His name was Klaus. My mom never knew him because he died from malnourishment when he was a baby.” Celeste’s head dipped in sadness.

“That’s terrible.”

“It left a lasting mark on our family,” Celeste continued. “My mom would never let anyone go hungry, not if she had even a bite of food to give them.”

“Can I go with you?” Natalie nearly jumped as she realized that had been her own voice speaking. She’d been so wrapped up in the story, so moved by it, that she hadn’t known she was going to speak. But she was glad she had.

“Yes. Yes, of course.” Celeste’s brows knit together. “Are you sure? It’s your one day off before we start our world domination campaign, or whatever it is you’re calling this harebrained scheme we’re undertaking to save our shops.”

“I was going to call it the Christmas Blitz, but all of a sudden, I’m feeling like a World War II reference isn’t appropriate.” Natalie breathed a sigh of relief when Celeste laughed at her joke, though she should have known it would be okay. Celeste of all people seemed to understand when Natalie’s humor came out a little warped.

“The food is surprisingly good, and the company is even better,” Celeste assured her, growing more animated as she talked about it. “I love getting to know people who are struggling but haven’t given up. Do you know what Churchill said to do when going through hell?”

“No, what?” Natalie held her breath, caught in the magnetic field of Celeste’s eyes.

“To keep going,” Celeste answered softly.

“It’s good advice.” Natalie let out her breath, blinking rapidly to try to break the spell.

They had their own struggle ahead. Maybe not the same as a person who was hungry or without a home, but like them, Natalie and Celeste couldn’t give up. Not if they wanted to succeed in saving the shop.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“Don’t forget to write down your Christmas wish and hang it on the tree,” Celeste called out to the shoppers—a mom, dad, and two young children—who were among the last to leave before closing. The dad was weighed down with a bag of books in one hand and a bag of baked goods in the other.

“Do you want to make a Christmas wish?” the little girl, who was maybe six, asked her younger brother, who was no more than a toddler. He nodded while casting a shy glance toward the shining tree. Anticipating he would say yes, Natalie fished the necessary supplies from the basket on the counter next to the register.

“Okay. I’ll fill it out for you.” The little girl took the two blank paper ornaments and stubby pencil Natalie handed her and wrote out their wishes in large, rounded letters.

“What a helpful big sister you are,” Celeste said, helping the children hang the ornaments on the real pine tree at the front of the store. “There you go. I hope all your Christmas wishes come true.”

“I know one of mine has already,” the mom said as she slipped mittens onto the boy’s tiny hands. “I used to bring Abby to the story hour here all the time when she was little, but there haven’t been any since Micah was born. Seeing this shop open again is such a treat.”

“It looks amazing,” the dad added. “I’d forgotten all the rich architectural details in this place that had gotten covered up over the years. And the beautiful blown glass decorations. I remember the first year Ingrid put these up, right after the bakery opened. It reminded me of my childhood, spending Christmas with my German grandparents. What wonderful memories it all brings back.”

Celeste was too choked up over the praise of her mother’s decorations to say a word. No matter how hard it had been on her to see the cherished items go on display without her mom this year, Celeste had no regrets. It was worth it to bring joy to so many people in the town.

“I’m so pleased you like what we’ve done with the shop,” Natalie said. “I hope you’ll come back again soon. I’m thinking of doing some special holiday story times in December. And Celeste has promised to provide Christmas cookies.”

“Cookies,” the little boy whispered with something akin to reverence.

“You can count on us,” the mom assured her.

When the shoppers left, Celeste gave the space a final sweep to make sure no customers were left and then nodded to Natalie, who locked the door and turned the sign in the window to closed.

“Team?” Natalie announced in a booming voice to the worker bees who remained. “We officially survived Black Friday.”

“Woo-hoo!” Shiloh hollered in response, the only one of them who still had the energy for such things after a grueling, if rewarding, day of work.

Meanwhile, Celeste, who had been up baking since four in the morning, wanted nothing more than to climb into her bed and go to sleep.

“Annie, you’re a trooper,” Celeste said, giving the exhausted mom-to-be a quick massage of her neck. “I think I see Phil’s car waiting for you out front, so don’t worry about helping with closing. You go on home.”

“Are you sure?” Annie asked, but she was already sliding into her coat.

“Shiloh, why don’t you head out too?” Natalie offered. “I bet your dad’s already here.”

“Okay, but can I fill out a Christmas wish before I go?” the teen asked.

“Absolutely!” Natalie handed her a paper ornament and pencil. “You’re never too old to make a wish.”

“In that case, Sean, you should do one, too,” Celeste suggested.

“I don’t know about that,” the man said, shuffling his feet, his eyes fixed on his shoes. He’d completed the finishing touches on the plumbing job in the upstairs bathroom a few hours before closing, but when he’d seen how swamped both the bakery and bookshop had been when he came downstairs to announce he was done, he’d ended up sticking around to help.

“Oh, come on.” Natalie slid the piece of paper and a short pencil to Sean with a beguiling smile. The plumber blushed as he took them, tapping the end of the pencil against his teeth as he thought.

Celeste stifled a smile, remembering how not so long ago, Sean had been down on his luck but still so proud he’d tried to return the twenty-dollar bill she’d slipped into his lunch sack. Now he had a steady job with Shiloh’s dad, Frank, and if not quite back on his feet yet, he’d certainly be there soon.

Celeste watched as he scribbled something on the paper, folding it over and then tying it to the tree. She wondered what he’d wished for and had half a mind to sneak a peek at it once he’d left for the day, although she had a feeling Natalie would get mad and say it would ruin the magic, or some such nonsense.

That was exactly the kind of ridiculous thing Natalie would say, and for some reason, simply imagining her saying it made Celeste’s smile reach deep inside, touching a piece of her soul she’d thought had been locked away.

“You seem happy tonight,” Natalie commented when the others had departed and they were alone in the shop.

“Business is booming,” Celeste was quick to respond.

That wasn’t the reason for her good mood, or at least not the whole reason. True, spending the day seeing customers streaming into the shop, ordering hot chocolate or gingerbread lattes and Christmas cookies from the cafe before browsing through the displays at the bookshop had been exhilarating. It was more than she’d dreamed possible and certainly more business than she’d ever imagined generating in sleepy little Rainbow Falls.

If she had to be honest about it—something she would rather avoid if at all possible, but somehow the truth kept slipping through—spending the days with Natalie had been the real mood enhancer. There was something about her enthusiasm that was contagious, that can-do attitude that made Celeste stop doubting and start believing that maybe they’d be able to pull this off.

“Who would’ve guessed a good balance sheet was the way to your heart?” Natalie winked at Celeste, a gesture that made her go weak in the knees.

Celeste sank into one of the plush reading chairs, giving a groan so as to build a cover story that it was her aching feet that made her sit so quickly and not the fact her whole body had gone to goo over one, simple wink. Sammy jumped up onto the overstuffed arm ready, for her evening pets to commence.

“I’m starting to think Sammy prefers you to me,” Natalie said with a pout.

“Probably because you keep making her wear these silly bow ties.” Celeste plucked at the cat’s red and green neckwear.

“She loves them.”

Sammy repositioned herself on the arm of the chair, stretching her neck. Celeste gave the bow tie a closer inspection and discovered the print was of tiny kittens wearing elf hats and wrapping gifts. With a shake of her head, Celeste scratched Sammy right behind the ear. “How many of these have you purchased?”

“We’re on my side of the shop,” Natalie said, crossing her arms. “That means I don’t have to answer that question.”

“Since when is that a rule?” Celeste argued.

“What, did you think you were the only one who got to make rules in this arrangement of ours?” While this would have been a prime opportunity for Natalie to point out how badly things had gone the last time Celeste tried to implement a list of rules and regulations, she did not seem so inclined.

Celeste was grateful, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t do some teasing of her own. “If I offer you strudel, will you tell me? Technically you’d have to come over to my side to get it.”

“Do I have to get up, though?” Natalie slid into the chair next to Celeste, her body going limp as a noodle. “I’m beat.”

“I don’t know if I’ve ever seen either shop this busy. The Christmas Blitz is off to a promising start.”

“I thought we agreed we weren’t using that phrase.”

“I’ve decided I like it,” Celeste said. “It implies world domination without having to come right out and say it.”

“I like how you think,” Natalie began, “but what if we call it Operation Saving Rainbow Falls?”

“Fine. Whatever.” Celeste stifled a yawn. “But I might be dead before I can get all those syllables out. And we have to do this all over again tomorrow. And the next day. And the day after⁠—”

“I get the point,” Natalie interrupted with a groan. “The good news is, we’re off to a strong start, but how do we keep this momentum going? We’re still a long way off from paying the construction bill.”

“Why are you asking me? I thought you were the business expert.” Celeste added a wink to soften her words, nearly dissolving into giggles as Natalie’s cheeks turned scarlet.

“If I were advising a client, I would say they need something—I don’t want to say a gimmick—but something to make people feel like they have to keep coming back every day in December.”

“So, a gimmick,” Celeste teased.

“No!” Natalie stuck out her tongue. “An incentive. An event. Something special that’s new every day until Christmas.”

“Like an Advent calendar.” The thought made Celeste laugh. It wasn’t like they could put one out for every resident in town.

But Natalie wasn’t laughing. “That’s not a bad idea.”

“You do actually know what an Advent calendar is, right?” Celeste boosted an eyebrow, enjoying the way it made Natalie squirm. Had she ever had this kind of relationship with anyone else? Their back-and-forth banter might have sounded like bickering on the surface, but there was an underlying current that was downright electrical. Almost magical. “Actually, it was a big tradition when I was little, having an Advent calendar. That and gingerbread houses. My mom used to make a whole village of them.”

“Maybe we could do that,” Natalie said. “A new gingerbread house added to the village every day until Christmas.”

“Maybe.” Celeste pondered for a moment, shaking her head. “No, it’s no good. You wouldn’t have a village until the very end, and then there’s no time to enjoy it before it’s all over.”

“I guess you’re right.” Natalie let out a sigh of defeat, but Celeste’s mental wheels were turning.

“You know—” Celeste closed her eyes to get a better sense of the idea that was forming in her mind. “What if I made a gingerbread Advent calendar?”

“Like a big box made of gingerbread, with little doors to open?” Natalie stroked her lip with the tip of her finger. “But we still have the same problem as with a paper calendar. We can’t fit a present for everyone in town behind each door.”

“No, but…” A beautiful vision swirled in Celeste’s head, a giant gingerbread house with doors that could open and magical things inside. She tingled from head to toe. It would be difficult, but she could do it. Now that would be a showstopper. “I think I know what we can do, but you have to promise not to say yes or no until you hear the whole plan.”

As Natalie sat and listened, Celeste described in detail the picture that was in her head, a castle made of gingerbread and sweets, with melted hard candy for windows, and strands of twinkle lights shining inside. People would come from all over if she made it even half as grand as what she saw in her head. But the real draw would be the twenty-four doors, one to open each day.

“What will we put inside?” Natalie asked in a breathy tone. It wasn’t a criticism. Clearly, she was enraptured, as excited about the possibilities as Celeste was.

“I don’t know.” Celeste sank back into her chair. “We’re back to square one.”

“Only we’re not,” Natalie said. “Because this is too good an idea to give up on. There’s got to be something. What if we have a story or poem behind each door? We could pull one out each day and read it to the crowd.”

“I see where you’re going with that, given you own a bookshop, but is it enough?” Celeste frowned, trying to recapture the feeling she’d had as a child when she went to open a new door on her Advent calendar each day to find a shiny piece of chocolate hidden inside.

“Probably not,” Natalie admitted with a sigh. “Can I confess something? I don’t even like poetry unless you count snarky ones like Dorothy Parker’s.”

“That might not be the feel we’re going for, no.” Unwilling to give up when they were so close to an answer, Celeste’s eyes landed on the Christmas tree near the door, laden with the town’s sincerest holiday wishes. She smiled. “That wishing tree was a good idea.”

Natalie’s eyes widened as her jaw dropped.

Celeste started to laugh. “You don’t need to act so shocked that I gave you a compliment.”

“It’s not that.” Natalie bolted upright in the chair, barely able to contain herself. “I’ve got the answer. Back home, the big retail stores had wishing trees, but instead of writing down hopes and dreams and that kind of thing, they’d have ornaments with a kid’s name and age, plus what gift they wanted. You could take one at the beginning of the season and buy a gift for a child in need.”

“Sure,” Celeste said, not certain where Natalie was going with this. “I’ve heard of those before, but we can’t afford to buy a present for every kid in town. The whole point is we need to make money, not spend it.”

“I’m not talking about spending money,” Natalie promised. “I’m talking about making dreams and wishes come true. We already have it all at our fingertips with this tree. We’ve been asking everyone to write down their Christmas wish. What if you made the gingerbread calendar, and then we selected twenty-four of the wishes from the tree, and the whole town could get into the act by helping to make that person’s wish come true.”

“I don’t—” Celeste was about to say it wouldn’t work, but the thought of what it would be like if it actually did work stopped her from throwing cold water on it quite yet. “Do you think we could pull that off? Do we even know what people wrote? It’s probably all expensive stuff, like sports cars and electronics. We can’t afford that, and I doubt everyone in town would pitch in for it.”

“I think you underestimate the people of Rainbow Falls.”

“Why do you say that?”

“It’s possible I’ve peeked at more than a few of them today,” Natalie admitted. “For example, do you know what Sean requested?”

“No. What?”

“To pay you back for believing in him.”

“What?” A lump formed in Celeste’s throat, and she had to blink away tears. “How do we arrange that? Not that he even has to, but⁠—”

“What exactly is he talking about?” Natalie’s eyes searched Celeste’s face for the answer, stripping away layer after layer as they sought a path to her soul.

Celeste shivered.

“Did you come up with this whole scheme simply to put me on the spot?” she demanded, resorting to her old method of throwing up a wall of grumpiness to keep Natalie from getting too close.

Something in the way Natalie continued to study her suggested this time it wouldn’t work.

“I really would like to know how you helped Sean,” Natalie said quietly.

“You already know.” Celeste waved a hand, hoping to dismiss the entire line of questioning. “He was in the shop when the ceiling came down. Surely, you haven’t forgotten that experience.”

Instead of getting defensive as she might have done in the past, Natalie laughed. “You really don’t want to tell me, do you?”

“How do you know that?”

“Because you’re trying to cause a diversion by mentioning the ceiling,” Natalie said. “You know it’s a weak point for me, and you’re trying to make me feel guilty so I’ll stop talking.”

“That’s…” Exactly what she was trying to do, come to think of it. How did Natalie know that?

“You know what?” Natalie leaned forward a little, and though they were still a comfortable distance apart, Celeste couldn’t help feeling the entire world had shrunk around them, holding them both like a fragile cocoon. “I think that so-called disaster saved us from ourselves, and I refuse to feel bad about it. Before that happened, you were set on selling, and I was determined to head back to San Francisco.”

“You make it sound like we’ve made up our minds on all that,” Celeste countered. “It’s still very much in the air. We might still have to sell, and you might still be going back.”

“More diversion.” Natalie rolled her eyes. “Is it because you gave Sean a job that he feels like he owes you?”

“I don’t know, really.” Celeste’s tone was gentle but firm, and she hoped that would be enough to make Natalie move on. “You’d have to ask him. It’s his story to tell.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“I still can’t believe you made this gingerbread house from scratch.” In the early morning light, Natalie examined the stunning replica of downtown Rainbow Falls with a sense of awe. It stood three tiers tall with eight buildings on each level. Every storefront was covered in colorful icing and candy, and in the center of each was a door that would be opened when the appropriate day arrived.

“It’s the decoration that makes it look more elaborate than it really is,” Celeste insisted, unwilling to take more credit than she thought she deserved. “They’re little more than three long boxes of gingerbread with flat facades to make them look like the buildings. We had to display them against the wall, instead of in the window like I’d imagined. If I’d had more time, I could have made them three-dimensional, and⁠—”

“Celeste?” Natalie put a hand firmly on each of the woman’s shoulders and locked eyes with her. “You need to stop. I’m sure there were a hundred things you could have done with more time and planning. The fact remains, you went from a vague concept to a fully executed, three-foot-tall by six-foot-wide gingerbread version of our entire town in under a week. You’ve earned the right to take a bow.”

“You’re the one who came up with the idea to get all the other businesses involved,” Celeste protested. “Without that, we would’ve had an empty calendar.”

“I have you to thank for the inspiration.” Natalie’s tone was hushed, her throat going dry under the effects of prolonged exposure to gazing into Celeste’s eyes. Yet, she was transfixed. “Didn’t you know that?”

“I didn’t do anything.” It was Celeste who managed to look away, though she didn’t go so far as to remove herself from Natalie’s grasp, and for her part, Natalie kept her hands exactly where they were, not wanting to let go.

“You did, actually. When I asked about Sean’s wish, how he wanted to repay you, and you refused to tell me why and said it was his story to tell. Remember?” When Celeste nodded, Natalie continued. “I did like you said. The next day, I asked him. He told me how he’d been down on his luck and about the sandwich and the money. Then he told me how, because of the work he did on the bathroom, Frank gave him a job. That’s when the idea for how to make my vision for the Advent calendar really came together.”

Celeste wore that uncomfortable expression she often did, the one that had originally made Natalie think she was a grouch. She could be, of course, but so often that wasn’t what was really going on. Natalie had discovered this was another one of Celeste’s tricks for taking the attention off herself.

“I never would’ve had the guts to go in person to every business and town and ask for things,” Celeste admitted, her expression softening rapidly as Natalie had guessed it might as soon as they were no longer talking about her and the good deeds she hated to take credit for. It was an odd trait, but one Natalie was beginning to admire—so at odds with all the people out there who preferred taking credit for more than they’d done.

“When I started looking at the ornaments on the wishing tree and thinking not just about what people said they wanted, but about what they needed to make it happen, who could provide it, and how. That made asking easy.”

“It wouldn’t have been easy for me,” Celeste insisted. “I think I would have tried to make it all happen myself and probably not gotten very far. Or gone broke in the process.”

“It’s easier to ask for things when they’re for someone else,” Natalie said gently. Holding in a sigh, she reluctantly let go of Celeste’s shoulders, letting her hands fall to her sides. “It’s almost time to open the shop. Are you ready?”

“Nervous.” Celeste’s face was pinched, and she kept chewing her lower lip as her eyes slid to the gingerbread house with its twenty-four closed doors. Today at noon, they would open the first one. “Remind me who’s going first.”

“Mrs. Johnson,” Natalie said. “Her wish was to host Christmas dinner for her family one more time.”

“Why couldn’t she?”

“I asked around, and it turned out her arthritis has gotten too bad, and the past few years she hasn’t been able to stand at the stove long enough to cook.”

“I wish I’d known,” Celeste exclaimed. “I could’ve made dinner for her.”

Natalie had to laugh as Celeste so perfectly illustrated what she’d said about trying to solve everything herself. “First, that’s not the point of this exercise. We’re supposed to be getting everyone to help. Second, she doesn’t want someone to cook for her. She wants to do it herself. She specifically mentioned the smell of dinner cooking in the house.”

“How are we granting this one?”

“I went to Crimson Market to see if they had a ready-to-heat holiday dinner available that they could donate. They didn’t, but they thought it was such a good idea they’re putting one together. Mrs. Johnson will be able to test it out for them to see how it goes so that by next Christmas, they can start offering it as a regular product.”

“Everyone gets something out of it.” Celeste grinned, her demeanor relaxing as her nervousness receded. A timer went off in the kitchen, and Celeste spun around. “I’d better get that batch of sugar cookies out of the oven so they can cool before the kids get here for your story hour.”

“I’d better open the store,” Natalie said, laughing as she saw Shiloh at the door with Pip and Squeak in tow.

The little boys had their faces rested against the glass, circles of fog forming. It was going to be a good day. She could feel it. With the window display and crafts set up in Kovack’s, the number of people walking along Main Street—which had been a ghost town the day she’d first arrived—had increased significantly. Now, with weekly story times and the Advent calendar starting, Natalie had her fingers crossed that she and Celeste could reach their goal and make December their best month ever.

They had to, or this wouldn’t just be the first Christmas of the new combined shop. It would be the last. Everything had to go according to plan.

* * *

“Are all these people here for us?” Celeste whispered, eyes wide as she took in the crowd.

Natalie nodded, a little overwhelmed herself. “News travels fast in small towns.”

It was now the twenty-first of December, and what had started as a small but enthusiastic group of locals for the daily calendar opening had swelled beyond standing room only. There were dozens of people waiting outside, some having driven from more than an hour away to witness the big reveal and catch a glimpse of the famous Christmas window displays at Kovack’s that had been packed away for far too long.

As Celeste and Natalie took their places beside the gingerbread Advent calendar, a man began pushing his way through the spectators. He was followed by another man who had a professional camera hefted on his shoulder and a microphone in his hand, both bearing the logo for a television news station.

“Hi, there. Ralph Skeeter, Channel Five News.” The reporter held out a hand to Natalie and then to Celeste. “We were on our way back from covering the bridge that got washed out up north of here and saw the crowd. What’s going on?”

“I’m Natalie Dunbar, and this is my business partner, Celeste Wagner.” Natalie quickly explained how the Advent calendar worked. The reporter was nearly salivating when she was done.

“What a story to stumble on,” Ralph said with a whistle. “Did you say Natalie Dunbar? I know that name.”

“I don’t see how you could,” Natalie said stiffly, suddenly wary of the reporter.

As if sensing the change in Natalie’s mood, Celeste came to the rescue with surprising confidence.

“We’ve got people waiting. If you want to cover the Advent calendar opening as a feel-good segment for the evening news, be our guests.” Celeste’s muscles tensed like a panther ready to spring. “But if you’re here for anything else, this is neither the time nor the place for it. Got that?”

Taken aback, the reporter nodded. Natalie flashed Celeste a grateful smile, both shocked and delighted to discover that in a pinch, the woman could handle whatever was thrown her way. Unless it involved asking for help, but Natalie was working on that. A few moments later, the cameraman was set up, and the reporter had taken a position in front of the giant gingerbread calendar as the crowd looked on.

“Okay, start rolling.” As if someone had flipped a switch, the reporter’s face came to life with a thousand-watt smile. “We’re here in the quaint town of Smithfield, Vermont⁠—”

“It’s Rainbow Falls,” someone in the crowd called out.

“Apparently, they prefer to call it Rainbow Falls,” Ralph corrected without missing a beat. “I’m standing in the town bookstore and cafe, and the place is abuzz over a gingerbread advent calendar that some locals think can make wishes come true.” Beneath his newsman schtick, Natalie detected a hint of mockery in the man’s tone that set her on edge once again.

“Excuse me, but they don’t think it’s a magical calendar,” Natalie tried to explain, but it was no use. The reporter kept talking, and the cameraman never lost his focus.

Ralph turned to Natalie and Celeste. “Now, ladies, which one of you thought of this gimmick?”

“See here. This is not a gimmick.” The muscles in Natalie’s neck tightened.

“We came up with the idea together,” Celeste interjected. She spoke calmly, but one look at her eyes suggested a fire had been sparked within her at the outsider’s ludicrous reporting that was even hotter than the one in her ovens. “This town used to be famous for the Christmas on Main Street festival, so this year, we” – she turned to Natalie, smiling – “decided to bring it back. We knew we had to make it extra special for the residents of Rainbow Falls. We didn’t want it to be about commercialism but to highlight what’s so special about this place. The way we all pull together to help our fellow neighbors.”

Natalie had never heard Celeste say so many words in front of a group of people, nor had she ever heard the woman refer to the town by its nickname the way all the folks who were from here did.

“It’s still a gimmick, though, isn’t it Natalie? Much like the one you had the Rumsford corporation pull last month. The Rumsford Massacre, they’re calling it.”

It was at that moment Natalie realized she’d been set up. This was no random reporter happening on a feel-good story for the local news. He’d come here on purpose to ask a gotcha question and hope for an epic response. It took all her self-control not to give him one. Never in her life had Natalie wanted so badly to punch another human right in the kisser.

Before Natalie could process what was happening, Celeste stepped in front of her to block the camera. “You know what I think is the real gimmick? The way you came here to twist a story about a town coming together to help other people in a time of need into something bad so you could boost your ratings. You should be ashamed of yourself, Ralph.”

“Yeah,” one of the customers called out amidst the general rumbling that was growing in intensity with each passing second. “Why even come here if all you want to do is bash our town?”

“Gentlemen, I think you should leave.” Celeste pointed to the door, keeping her arm straight and steady until the reporter and the cameraman had made their retreat to the occasional booing noise from someone in the crowd as they passed. “What a jerk!”

Natalie wanted to thank Celeste, but she couldn’t get any words out. At the mention of the Rumsford Corporation, she’d lost the ability to form coherent thoughts. The best she could manage was a weak motion to indicate she was going to the back of the store. She needed to be alone, or if not that, exactly, to not be on display in front of the whole town.

“Annie.” Celeste grabbed her friend by one arm and dragged her to the front of the crowd. “Do you think you can do the honors of reading today’s Advent calendar wish? I need to – Natalie, wait up!”

Instead of stopping, Natalie increased her speed, not convinced she wanted Celeste to catch up. Tears formed in her eyes as she burst through the storage room door, her chest heaving but unable to get any air into her lungs.

“Slow. Slow.” The next moment, Celeste was there, coaching Natalie on how to breathe. “It’s okay. He’s gone, and I doubt he’ll ever come back to Rainbow Falls.”

“I-it’s…” Natalie stuttered, unable to finish.

“Take your time.” Celeste guided her to a step stool to take a seat.

“You probably think I’m a complete fraud.” Natalie took a ragged breath, doing everything in her power not to hyperventilate. It wasn’t only Celeste who knew her secret now. It was the whole town.

“Why would I ever think that?”

“Rumsford,” Natalie moaned.

“I don’t know anything about whatever that is,” Celeste said, the bafflement on her face suggesting this was not being said to placate her.

“The Rumsford Corporation is a clothing empire worth billions,” Natalie explained. She had no choice but to tell Celeste everything. “The founder, Forest Rumsford is—well, to call him a modern-day Ebenezer Scrooge wouldn’t be far off the mark. And like his counterpart, he had a late in life desire to change his ways. He came to me with this vision of turning the company into a force for good, ultimately planning to give away the entire fortune he’d amassed. And I ran with it.”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Celeste moved closer, the warmth from her body warming Natalie both inside and out. Something about her presence was soothing in a way Natalie couldn’t recall ever experiencing before.

“The problem was the social media campaign I came up with failed spectacularly. Everyone accused Mr. Rumsford of doing it for publicity and not intending to follow through. I’ve never seen a person get attacked on Twitter so hard or so fast.” Natalie closed her eyes, needing to take several deep breaths after saying all that in record speed. “It’s why I’m here, actually.”

“In Rainbow Falls?”

“I had a ton of banked vacation, and my boss told me to use it all.” Natalie’s shoulders slumped as the memory of it hit her. “He sent me away because I screwed up in epic proportions for all the world to see, and he’ll probably fire me when I get back. I’m the last person you should trust when it comes to business.”

“Are you kidding me? You’re the only person I could ever even imagine working with.”

Natalie nearly choked. The difference between doing business with and sharing a business was not lost on her. “Because of my past mistakes, this town is going to be a laughing stock.”

“That won’t happen because nothing that jerk of a reporter tried to insinuate is true. Every business in town has had their best month in years. Main Street is booming. Mrs. Casey was reunited with a brother she hadn’t seen in a decade. Old man Wilkins finally asked Ms. Cleese to marry him. Rainbow Falls, and the people in town, are in a better place because you came here, Natalie Dunbar.”

Though the tears still ran down her cheeks, Natalie laughed. “You called it Rainbow Falls. That’s the second time I’ve heard you do it, but you always say Smithfield, like that reporter did.”

“Not anymore.” Celeste held out her hands, helping Natalie to rise from the stool. “Nobody who’s from here calls it anything but Rainbow Falls.”

“You’re from here now, huh? Interesting development,” Natalie said thoughtfully. “But are you planning to stay?”

“I don’t know. Given the prices in New York, I’d need at least twice what I could get from selling to make a go of it there. And considering the opportunities I have here, I might.” For a moment, Celeste’s eyes locked onto Natalie’s, and their gazes held as if by a magnetic force. Finally, Celeste looked away. “If the folks back in San Francisco can’t appreciate what they have in you, maybe you should consider sticking around, too.”

Natalie didn’t answer, but the idea found a soft spot deep inside where it could take root and grow. Back home, Natalie faced almost certain unemployment and the looming loss of her apartment, too—a real double whammy. Whereas here, she had a great place to stay and a business that, while she’d never become a millionaire, was emotionally satisfying and with a little luck would pay the bills. Staying in Rainbow Falls had never sounded so good.

But none of those things was the real draw, and deep down, Natalie knew it. What made her want to stay more than anything else was the woman giving Natalie a much needed pep talk.

Was it possible that, with time, they could share more?

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“Well?” Celeste held her breath as Natalie put up one hand in a plea for silence while punching numbers into her calculator with the other.

“Let me check this one more⁠—”

“Tell me already!” Celeste pressed her hand over her mouth. She hadn’t meant to shout, but the wait was killing her.

A slow smile curved Natalie’s lips into a wide arc. “We did it. In fact, not only did we surpass the prior best months for both our shops, but we blew them out of the water. I know not every month will be like this, but I think we have a real, viable business here.”

“I can’t believe it!” Unable to contain her joy, Celeste launched herself half a foot into the air, clapping her hands.

“Hold on,” Natalie said with a laugh. “You’re acting surprised by the news. Weren’t you the one who was all rah-rah, we can do this the other day after that reporter came by?”

“One of us had to be the cheerleader,” Celeste admitted. “Usually it’s your job, but you weren’t exactly in the right frame of mind for it, so I gave it a shot.”

“A very convincing one,” Natalie commented with a hint of sarcasm. “Good to know you were bluffing the whole time.”

“Not bluffing,” Celeste said, her voice growing quiet and taking on a throaty quality, thick with emotion. “Hoping. I can’t explain it, really. After all the years I was so desperate to get out of here, all of a sudden, I wanted to stay.”

“For the business,” Natalie added.

“Yes. Exactly.” Celeste swallowed, knowing full well it wasn’t only that. She wanted to stay because working with Natalie these past several weeks had been some of the most enjoyable times she’d ever had. Even yesterday, the day that had marked the anniversary of her mother’s death and that she’d been dreading all year, had been made easier because Natalie had been there. Everything seemed a little easier when she was near.

So why couldn’t Celeste come out and admit it? Why couldn’t she share the feelings that were growing in her heart and find out if it was possible Natalie felt the same?

Because she was terrified Natalie would tell her no.

Unaware of the battle raging in Celeste’s head, Natalie slid the calculator back under the counter with a look of happy anticipation. “Come on. After all this work, we finally get to flip our open signs to closed and go enjoy the Christmas festival.”

“Let’s do it,” Celeste exclaimed with uncharacteristic enthusiasm. “Let’s get festive!”

“Why, Celeste Wagner.” Natalie put a hand on her hip. “Are you actually excited to go to Christmas on Main Street? I never thought I’d see you this enthusiastic about a small-town street fair.”

“I’m not embarrassed to admit I am, but I’m even more excited not to be working all afternoon,” Celeste said. “It feels like the first time in a decade.”

Natalie slipped on her coat and hat as Celeste did the same. “I think we might get you fully in the Christmas spirit yet.”

Outside, the sidewalks were filled with festival goers, mostly heading to the town common as the last of the shops closed early so the workers could enjoy the celebration. It had snowed overnight, and all the trees and bushes had a light coating of fresh, white powder. However, with the afternoon sun shining, it was warmer than expected, and Celeste soon found herself unbuttoning her coat.

“What a glorious day,” she remarked, her heart lighter than she could recall in quite some time. As they got closer to the common, sounds of children squealing, carolers, and frivolity rang like Christmas bells in Celeste’s ears.

Had there ever been a happier sound?

“Look at this!” Natalie hopped up and down, seeming unable to stop herself when they reached the open space in the middle of town where pop-up tents had been set up, and vendors of all sorts were busy showing off their wares in a mini-Christmas market. “Everyone in town is here!”

“And there’s pie,” Celeste added with a grin.

“You’re excited about pie?” Natalie asked, seeming bewildered. “You bake pie all day.”

“I’m always excited about baked goods I didn’t have to make,” Celeste confessed. “Would you like some hot cider or chocolate? I see the church has a booth set up.”

“Get your potica here!” a voice called out from the church booth. “Just like Mrs. Kovack used to make.”

“Hey, that’s what we made the other day,” Natalie said with evident shock. “Did they steal your idea? We worked hard on getting that recipe right. It was delicious.”

Celeste laughed at Natalie’s indignation on her behalf. “I gave the recipe to them, silly. Some of the old timers at the church were pretty passionate about that pastry, and they were thrilled when I worked out the ingredients to make it taste like they remembered. I’m glad to see they’re selling it as part of their fundraising booth.”

“But, you could have sold it in the bakery,” Natalie argued.

“Along with a million other things I already have to make every day. Remember what I said about baked goods I don’t have to make? I’m happy to have them do it so I get to enjoy it that much more.” In her enthusiasm to join the line, Celeste grabbed Natalie’s mitten-covered hand and gave it a tug. “Come on. Let’s go get some.”

“Good afternoon, ladies.” Working at the church booth and wearing a festive Santa hat, Sean greeted them with a warm smile. “What can I get for you?”

“Hey, look at you, all dressed for the holiday.” Celeste was thrilled to see the man who had arrived in town down on his luck and with seemingly nowhere to turn had managed to find a place in the community. He was wearing new clothing, and his face had filled out a bit, a welcome sign that he was eating enough and staying healthy. “I see the church put you to work.”

“Happy to do it,” he said, his eyes seeming to mist a little. “They were there for me with the soup kitchen and food pantry when I got to town. Like you were. Can I get you a hot chocolate or a cider?”

“Two ciders, I think.” When Natalie nodded her agreement, Celeste reached for her wallet, but Sean shook his head.

“I’m under strict instructions from Pastor Kelly. No charge for either one of you ladies.” He filled one cup then another with steaming cider. “Here you go.”

“That’s not right.” Celeste fished a ten-dollar bill from her wallet. “You have to let me pay.”

“And risk getting in trouble with the minister? I doubt he wants to do that.” Pastor Kelly sidled up between Celeste and Natalie, resting an arm on each woman’s shoulder. “We wouldn’t be having this festival if it weren’t for the two of you.”

“It’s exactly the way I remember it,” Natalie said, eyes sparkling and a look of pure joy radiating from her face. “I can’t believe all of this got done in a few short weeks.”

“It would usually take a lot longer,” the minister agreed, “but the town was hungry for some holiday cheer. I think they’d forgotten over the years how much they loved this tradition, but once they were reminded, there wasn’t a single person who didn’t want to pitch in and make it happen. It’s amazing what you can accomplish when you really want something badly enough.”

Experiencing the festival for the first time, Celeste could finally understand what made people want to live in a place like Rainbow Falls. Both Annie and her mom had tried for years to explain it, but this was the first time it made sense. Seeing so many different people come together for a common cause made her believe that the good in the world might actually be able to outshine the bad. No number of new restaurants or places to shop in a big city could be worth more than that, could it?

“Oh, look.” Natalie grabbed Celeste’s arm, turning her toward the next booth. “Are those kids pinning a red nose on Rudolph?”

“That was Shiloh’s idea.” Pastor Kelly beamed with pride. “That girl has a great way with the kids, even though she claims they drive her bonkers. I’m trying to convince her to be a youth leader for summer camp.”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Natalie said. “Maybe I should consider putting her in charge of the story times in January.”

As if Shiloh sensed they were speaking about her, she turned around to wave. Then she spun the blindfolded Pip—or maybe it was Squeak since, honestly, Celeste couldn’t tell the boys apart, either—before letting him loose in the direction of a painted cardboard Rudolph, a red sticker pinched between the boy’s tiny fingers.

“January, huh?” The minister’s face brightened to the point of glowing. “Does that mean you’ve decided to stay in Rainbow Falls permanently, Natalie?”

“I’m leaning toward it. There’s not much drawing me back to San Francisco compared with what I have here.”

Celeste had held her breath before Natalie answered and now let it out in a rush. If Natalie decided to stay in Rainbow Falls, it would make the perfection of this day complete.

“The town will be lucky to have you if you stay,” Pastor Kelly said. At this point, the mayor came by and motioned for the minister’s attention. “Duty calls. You two enjoy the day. You deserve it.”

“Celeste! Natalie!” The mayor called out to them. “I want you up in the gazebo with me this evening for the star lighting. We would never have brought back this festival if it hadn’t been for the two of you.”

“Is it me,” Natalie said after they’d satisfied the mayor with a promise to join him, “or do you feel weird having so many people telling us how much they appreciate what we’ve done? I don’t feel like we did anything more than we had to do to save our shops.”

“I agree,” Celeste said, glad that Natalie had put into words how she’d also been feeling. “We hardly had anything to do with the planning of this festival, other than mentioning the idea. It’s weird to be treated like local celebrities.”

“I might have to invest in some sunglasses if I stick around,” Natalie joked. “I can’t say as I’ve ever had to disguise myself from my adoring public back home.”

“You’re really leaning toward staying?” When Natalie nodded, Celeste’s heart fluttered with hope. She was about to ask if there might be any other reason she wanted to stay when they were interrupted by Annie waving and shouting to them as Phil attempted to toss a hoop around a bottle at a carnival-style tent that had been set up by the high school pep squad.

“I wonder what prize he’s trying to win for Annie?” Natalie took a sip of the cider, watching Phil’s throwing technique with the intensity usually reserved for an Olympic sport. “I’d want the Christmas Minion.”

“Is that right?” Celeste made a mental note to check out the ring toss game, and the Christmas Minions, if Natalie was ever out of her sight.

The opportunity arrived a few minutes later when Natalie’s phone rang.

“It’s my boss,” Natalie said, the color draining from her face.

“This late in the day on Christmas Eve?”

“It’s earlier on the west coast and still a work day.” Natalie continued to stare at her screen, seeming torn. It was obvious from her expression that Natalie expected this to be the call that brought her job there to an end.

“You better get it,” Celeste urged, cursing those heartless cowards for doing this over the phone and right before Christmas, too.

Putting the phone to her ear, Natalie stepped away from the crowd, whether to find a quieter spot or more privacy in which to absorb the bad news, Celeste wasn’t sure.

Turning back to the ring toss, Celeste was contemplating how much it would cost her to buy enough rings to finally win, or if she was better off trying to bribe the high school kid in charge to let her buy the prize outright, when Greg, her Realtor, came running up. His cheeks were red, and he was huffing for breath.

“Greg, is something wrong?” Celeste asked.

“I’ve been looking all over for you,” he wheezed, bent over. “I know you said you weren’t interested in selling your shop anymore, but that buyer I had lined up saw a piece on the news about the advent calendar and has been hearing all the buzz about the revitalization going on in Rainbow Falls. He said if we can get the contract signed before the New Year, he’s willing to double the initial offer.”

“Double?” Celeste gaped at the Realtor even as it felt like she’d become disconnected from her body and was floating away. “That’s a lot of money.”

“Life changing money,” Greg said. “You don’t have to answer me right now. Sit on it over the holiday, and let me know the twenty-sixth. Right now, I’ve gotta run. I hear Patty’s booth is running low on chocolate-covered pretzels, and if I don’t get some, my wife’s going to kill me. Congratulations, though!”

“Uh, yeah. Thanks.” Celeste’s head spun. Double the money would give Celeste more than enough seed money to start her business in the Big Apple. If that was still something she wanted to do. But it wasn’t for her to decide alone. This was Natalie’s decision, too.

Natalie, who was headed back toward Celeste, was no longer on her phone but wearing a look of utter confusion.

“What did your boss want?” Celeste asked gently, not wanting to set off any public tears if she could help it. “Was it what you thought?”

“It was so much not what I thought I don’t even know how to process it,” Natalie said in a voice that was flat from apparent shock.

“I don’t understand.” Celeste’s entire body tensed.

“Forest Rumsford died.”

“Your client?” Celeste put her hand to her mouth. “Oh no. I’m so sorry.”

“He was ninety-seven, so it’s not a huge shock. What is a shock is that he left detailed instructions with his board for exactly how to carry out all the grand plans he said he was going to do. The company’s stock is through the roof. The naysayers are singing a very different tune.” Natalie blinked a few times, like the words she was saying didn’t make sense. “Alex didn’t call to fire me. He offered me a promotion. He wants me back in San Francisco the day after Christmas.”

“What are you going to do?” Celeste tried to keep her tone steady as her heart threatened to break in two. Earlier in the day, she’d been so certain that they were both going to stay, that they would build a business in Rainbow Falls together. And that maybe, if Celeste could get the courage to tell Natalie how she felt, they would start a life together, too.

Between Natalie’s job promotion and the news from Greg about the offer for the building, what were the chances that would happen now?

“Before you answer,” Celeste began, “there’s something I need to tell you, too.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“Wow.” Natalie walked side-by-side with Celeste, away from the town common and toward the now-deserted Main Street. She needed to get away from the crowd. Her body was numb from more than the cold air as she struggled to make sense of how utterly different her future looked from earlier that day. “It’s a lot to take in.”

“It is.” It was clear from Celeste’s solemn tone that she, too, was overwhelmed by the twin bombshells that had gone off in the short time they’d been at the festival. But underneath the shock of essentially being offered a shot at her lifelong dream, she must be thrilled. Right?

They continued walking, passing the bookshop where Sammy slept in the window and going beyond the last of the commercial buildings, to the curve in the road that led to the covered bridge at the entrance to the town.

“Who would have thought wishes could actually come true?” Celeste’s voice remained soft and serious. If Natalie hadn’t known better, she would have mistaken the tone for sadness. But why would Celeste be sad when everything she’d been hoping for was coming true?

“Kind of ironic,” Natalie said with a laugh as nerves tightened her belly. It was taking a great deal of effort to smile and act like everything was fine against a growing sense deep down that nothing was fine at all. “I never filled out one of the cards for our wish tree. Did you?”

Celeste shook her head. “Is this what you would have wished—what am I saying? Of course, it is. Your boss called on Christmas Eve to grovel and offer you a promotion so you would come back. What more could you possibly want?”

What more, indeed? When Celeste put it that way, Natalie felt like a complete fool for the doubt that was swirling in her breast. Yet, recognizing she was being an idiot wasn’t making that deflated sensation go away. Her heart had been set on staying in Rainbow Falls. Now it was breaking.

“What about you?” Natalie forced a broad smile, not willing to let on how silly she was being. “An offer for the building that will give you more than enough money to relocate to the city and start over in style. Talk about a dream coming true. You must have done something to make the universe very pleased with you.”

“I suppose there’s no arguing with the universe.” Veering from the sidewalk, Celeste tromped through fresh, powdery snow as she took a shortcut toward the bridge. With a dusting of white on the roof and a wreath made of fresh pine adorning the front, it looked like an illustration from a vintage Christmas card. The only thing missing was a horse-drawn sleigh.

“When I arrived back in November, I remember driving through the covered bridge, so excited to see Rainbow Falls again, only to be bitterly disappointed by how it looked.” Natalie couldn’t help but shake her head in awe of the transformation. Or maybe she was seeing it with new eyes.

“And now?”

“It’s exactly how I remember it, but…” Natalie paused in her tracks as the falls themselves came into view. Instead of roaring water, there was little more than a trickle that made its way through pillars of cascading ice. “What happened to the waterfall?”

“It’s starting to freeze.” Celeste’s statement was matter-of-fact, like it was nothing at all out of the ordinary to come across something that looked like an enchanted castle made of frozen crystal pillars.

“The waterfall freezes? There’s so much about this place I don’t know.” Natalie let out a laugh, surprised by the bitterness it contained. This morning, she’d thought she’d have all the time in the world to make discoveries. The call from Alex, coupled with Celeste’s news from the realtor had pulled the rug out from under her feet, and she didn’t know what would set her right again.

“I bet you’ll be looking forward to getting out of this place, though.” Celeste gave a small sigh, bordering on wistful. “There’s so much more to do in a city than watch waterfalls freeze. Your job is probably more interesting, too.”

“I don’t know. Maybe. But…” Natalie fought off the urge to sob as she pictured spending her days in a bleak cubicle instead of surrounded by books, with a cat on her lap. As she tried to keep the sadness from overwhelming her, anger seeped into its place. “I’m having a really hard time forgetting that my boss had so little faith in me after so many years. Sure, he thinks I’m brilliant and wants me back now that it all worked out. But am I supposed to ignore that all it took was one mistake and I was getting the boot?”

“You didn’t make a mistake, though.”

“That’s right!” Natalie’s ire was stoked even more by Celeste’s observation. “Yet, if Forest Rumsford hadn’t died when he did, I would’ve been out on the street. Despite all of my hard work and long hours, I’m simply a cog in the machine at that company.”

“Surely the competitors would jump at the chance to hire you?”

“I guess they would.” While Celeste made an excellent point, Natalie continued to feel glum. The woman was awfully eager to get her on the next plane back to San Francisco. After all they’d been through together, Natalie had hoped the prospect of parting would’ve been a little harder to face.

“See? If the universe wants me to move to New York, it must want you to find a new job, too.” There was something in the way Celeste said this that set a bell ringing in Natalie’s head. Maybe it was only wishful thinking, but she had to be sure.

“The universe may want you to, but what about you?” Natalie asked. “Do you want to move to New York?”

“The offer is so good it’s hard to pass up.” Worry lines creased Celeste’s brow. “I wouldn’t want to run the shop by myself once you leave.”

Natalie was about to assure Celeste that she wouldn’t go without finding a good manager, but instead, she came out with, “What if I don’t leave?”

“What are you talking about?” Celeste’s eyes widened, and what Natalie could only interpret as a hopeful expression blossomed on her face.

“I don’t know that it makes a lot of sense for me to go back. Not after this. I want to look forward.” She trained her eyes on the falls, not quite ready to reveal everything in her heart. Maybe if she had a card to write her wish on, she could do it, but saying it out loud was frightening. “Who knew frozen ice could look so beautiful? Nature is amazing, isn’t it?”

Instead of turning her attention to the falls, Celeste fixed Natalie with a piercing gaze. “Natalie, do you want to sell the building?”

“I won’t stand in your way.” As if adding emphasis, Natalie took a step back. “I know this is what you’ve been dreaming of for years.”

Celeste laughed, not a humorous laugh but frantic with a touch of despair. “What if I want you in my way?”

“I’m not following.” Natalie’s heart thudded as Celeste gripped her by the shoulders, physically keeping her standing in the way.

“What if I don’t want to move to New York after all?” Celeste’s question carried a note of desperation, and her eyes flashed with heat. “These past several weeks, I’ve started to see what everyone else loves about Rainbow Falls. The sense of community. A steady business. Friends. A cat. And…”

“And…?” Natalie’s heart didn’t know what to do. Clench for disappointment? Burst for happiness? Instead, her heart seemed to stand still.

“You, Natalie. I want you. I want to stay here, but only if you do.”

“Do you really mean that?” Tears stung Natalie’s eyes. “It’s not the effect of the festival and this gorgeous frozen waterfall that are making you lose sight of what you really want in life?”

“You’re what I really want.” Celeste took Natalie’s gloved hands, squeezing them tightly in her own. “I want to experience all of this with you. Seeing Rainbow Falls through your eyes—it reminds me of what my mom saw. My future. Here. I’m starting to realize that was her gift to me. If I had to deal with my grief all alone in a soulless city, I don’t know if I would have survived. Everyone here would never let me fail. You, most especially.”

“I want that, too. I want to stay here, with our shop, and our cat… and you.” As a tear slid down Natalie’s cheek, laughter bubbled up inside her. “This reminds me of a story Aunt Pam read to me when I was little, the ‘Gift of the Magi.’ Do you know it?”

“The one where the husband and wife each give up the thing that’s most important to them to buy a gift for the other?” Celeste asked, her head cocked to one side. “How is this the same?”

“Because this whole time, I’ve been telling you to sell the shop and move to New York, even though I wanted you to stay, because I thought it was your dream,” Natalie explained.

Celeste’s lips curved into a smile. “I’ve been telling you to take the promotion and go back to San Francisco, even though I wanted you to stay, because I thought it was what you wanted.”

“Exactly.” Natalie squeezed her eyes closed as she laughed. “We’re both idiots.”

“Lucky idiots.” Celeste’s laughter was filled with happiness this time. “We came this close to disaster, but the universe wasn’t going to let that happen.”

“Oh, so now you’re convinced this is the universe at work?” Natalie teased. “You know, technically the universe offered us everything we thought we wanted. We’re the ones choosing to go a different way.”

“Good point. You have a better theory?”

Natalie pressed her lips together, thinking. “Maybe it was Aunt Pam. She could’ve sold the building when you asked her to, but she gave it to me instead. Maybe she knew what it’s taken us all this time to figure out.”

“What’s that?” Celeste asked softly.

“That we’re perfect for each other. Because, you know what? I love you, and I think I was always destined to.” Natalie’s words ended in a gasp. She couldn’t believe she’d said them out loud. Celeste, too, looked shocked.

“You love me?” Celeste’s voice was shaky, her whole body seeming to tremble.

“I really do.” Natalie drew a breath, a newfound confidence bolstering her. She had one shot to say what she felt, and she would take it, no matter what happened. “You’re exactly the opposite of everything I would have imagined wanting, and the idea of being without you is more than I can bear. Whether you want to stay here, or sell and move to New York, I want that, too. As long as I can come with you.”

“Apparently, it took a matchmaker from beyond the grave for me to realize it, but I feel exactly the same way. But I don’t want to go anywhere. I want to stay right here with you. Because I love you, too.” Celeste pulled Natalie into her arms. Before Natalie knew what was happening, Celeste’s velvety lips were on hers, shockingly warm even though both their noses had turned to icicles in the cold.

They continued to kiss, oblivious to the world around them or the passing of time. It was only when they finally parted that Natalie noticed how low the sun hung in the sky. Its last orange rays hit the frozen waterfall and burst into a rainbow that stole what little breath Natalie had left after that spectacular kiss.

“Now there’s a sign from the universe,” she breathed.

“It’s a sign it’s going to get dark soon.” Celeste said. “We don’t want to miss the mayor lighting the star in the town common. I promised we’d be there.”

Natalie didn’t budge from the spot. “Okay, but can we come back here every night?”

Celeste arched a brow. “Yes, but why?”

“To do this.” Natalie kissed Celeste again.

“In that case, why are we only coming back at night?” Celeste asked with a laugh. “The falls are lovely at sunrise as well.”

“I bet they are,” Natalie said with a wink, “but not half as lovely as I imagine you are at sunrise.”

“Who knew you were such a smooth talker?” Celeste said with a grin. “If you keep it up, you might have the chance to find out what I look like at sunrise very soon.”

Natalie tilted her head. “You mean because we’ll spend the night together, right? Not because you’re going to make me get up at the crack of dawn to help bake pies again?”

Celeste sucked her cheeks in to keep from laughing. “I guess you’ll have to find out. But we’d better go, or we’ll miss the big event.”

“Okay.” Natalie trotted after Celeste as she started back toward the center of town. “Have I told you how nice you look today? Your red nose really brings out your eyes.”

“Keep it up, Nat,” Celeste said with laughter in her tone. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

* * *

“I thought you ladies weren’t going to make it.” The mayor offered Natalie his hand while Pastor Kelly aided Celeste up the final steps onto the platform, where musicians from the high school band were positioned with their instruments at the ready. Natalie and Celeste had managed to make their way through the massive crowd to the gazebo in the middle of the town square in the nick of time.

“Wouldn’t miss this for the world.” Natalie slid Celeste a knowing smile. There were other activities on the agenda for tonight that she also wouldn’t want to miss—or so she hoped, if the time spent kissing by the frozen falls was any indication—but that could wait. The Christmas Eve lighting ceremony was a tradition not to be missed.

“Lights! Lights! Lights!” the crowd chanted, clearly growing restless in the dark. The sun had set by now, and all of Main Street was dark, waiting for the magical moment when the mayor would flip the switch and all the lights would come on at once, with the star on top of the gazebo as the main attraction.

Stepping up to the podium, the mayor laughed into the microphone. “I was telling Pastor Kelly I think we have about thirty seconds before the whole town comes at us with pitchforks.”

A hearty chuckle rose from the audience, though Natalie could make out nothing but shadowy shapes from where she stood.

“Ladies,” the mayor said, motioning to the oversized lever that stood in front of the podium. “Will you do the honors, and turn on the lights?”

“Us?” Both Natalie and Celeste asked in unison. Natalie had assumed they’d been invited to stand on the platform as representatives of the local business community. It had never occurred to her that they would be offered the honor of turning on the lights.

“We wouldn’t be here without you two taking charge and bringing this festival back to life.” The mayor waved for them to continue with the lighting.

“Wait a minute, Mayor,” a voice called out from the crowd. “I heard a rumor Rainbow Sprinkles and Rainbow Books are being sold. Is this true?”

Natalie’s heart sank as she recognized the voice as belonging to Annie. Clearly, Celeste knew who it was, too, based on her pained expression, which was impossible to miss even in the dark.

“May I?” Celeste asked, inching toward the mic.

“Be my guest,” the mayor replied. “I think we’d all like to hear the answer to this.”

Natalie had the feeling the mayor was not enjoying being caught off guard any more than she and Celeste were relishing being put on the spot in front of the entire population of Rainbow Falls. As Celeste took her place behind the podium, it felt to Natalie as though every person in the audience took a step forward in anticipation.

“When I moved here from New York City as a teenager,” Celeste began, “I didn’t have any desire to live in a small town. That was my mom’s dream. I swore if I ever got the chance, I’d be out of here and back in the city in a heartbeat. Tonight, I was handed that opportunity on a silver platter.”

There was a surprised murmuring from the crowd, along with a few people saying, “No!” or “You can’t leave!” Celeste held up her hand to quiet them down.

“It’s true that Natalie and I were offered a lot of money to sell the building at 351 Main Street. It’s also true—sorry to break the news to you like this in front of everyone, Greg—that Natalie and I have decided to turn down that offer. We’re staying right here, and we’re going to run our new shop, Rainbow Sprinkle Books, together.”

“Is that what we’ve decided to call it?” Natalie whispered as the crowd burst into applause.

“Sorry. I got caught up in the moment,” Celeste responded with a shrug. “We can change it if you want.”

“No,” Natalie said with a grin. “I think I like it.”

After several more seconds of clapping, the crowd quieted down. Celeste made a move to step away from the podium, but Annie’s voice rang out again, loud and clear.

“Now that we’ve got that settled, are you two going to kiss already or what?”

Both Natalie and Celeste dissolved into laughter, and the town joined in.

“Annie!” Celeste stepped back to the mic. “You’re gonna pay later for embarrassing me like this.”

“Whatever, boss.” The crowd roared again at Annie’s feisty response. “I told you the minute Natalie walked into the shop that she was your soulmate. Was I wrong?”

“No,” Celeste answered, her voice thick with emotion. “You weren’t wrong.”

“Can we light the star now?” a child called out. It may have been Pip or possibly Squeak. Natalie wasn’t sure.

“Everyone’s waiting,” Natalie pointed out as the crowd laughed some more. At the rate they were going, she and Celeste would be able to take this comedy show on the road.

Walking to the lever, Natalie placed her hand on top of Celeste’s. Though they both wore gloves, Natalie swore she felt a current of all that was to come pass between them. With one yank, there was a crackle and then all the lights shone brightly through the town, reflecting like stars on the freshly fallen snow.

“Kiss her!” another voice—not Annie, this time—cried out, and then the entire crowd started to chant, “Kiss her!”

“What do we do now?” Celeste asked, a wolfish grin on her face that Natalie, and everyone else, could see all too well under the bright lights.

“Guess we can’t argue with the crowd.” Natalie tossed her head back, laughing, before leaning in for a kiss.

In all the times Natalie had envisioned kissing Celeste, not once in her wildest imagination had it played out like this.

As their lips touched, cheering broke out around them, but Natalie blocked it out, tossing her arms around Celeste’s shoulders, getting lost in the sensation of closeness and warmth. The kiss was soft. Sensual. Natalie didn’t want it to end. She’d never experienced a kiss like this before.

“This has been the most amazing day ever.” Celeste rested her forehead against Natalie’s. Behind them, the band began to play the first few notes of a Christmas song.

“Who knew the Grinch of Rainbow Falls could do merriness so well?” Natalie whispered.

“Is that what you’ve been calling me behind my back?” Celeste demanded in mock outrage.

“I’m pretty sure I called you that to your face, too.” Taking Celeste’s hand, Natalie led her down the steps from the gazebo, not stopping until they were at the edge of the crowd.

“You may not know this, but Christmas is my favorite time of year.” By way of punctuation, Celeste stuck out her tongue.

“Well, merry Christmas to you, too,” Natalie gasped between peals of laughter. Her sides were going to ache the next morning from all the laughing she’d been doing.

“You know,” Celeste’s tone shifted to one of reflection, “I think your aunt and my mom are smiling down on us.”

“I think you might be right.” Natalie kissed Celeste again, a more intimate embrace now that the crowd was no longer watching. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Celeste drew Natalie close, holding her in a way that made her feel safer and more complete than she’d ever known possible. “Now that our official duties are done, how about we go home?”

“Together?” Natalie asked, holding out her hand.

Celeste grasped Natalie’s hand in hers, their fingers lacing. “Always.”

BONUS CHAPTER FOR TAKE TWO

As the closing credits began to roll across the large television in Gina and Sophia’s living room, Sophia’s mom produced a black and white director’s clapboard seemingly out of thin air, snapping it with a loud crack.

“That’s a wrap, people!” she called out, grinning at the assembled audience like a crazy lady. Not that Gina would ever make that observation aloud.

“They don’t really say that’s a wrap after a film premier,” Sophia pointed out as Gina did her best to silence her girlfriend with the power of her mind. The dining room table sat laden with cookies, baked goods, and homemade cannoli thanks to that woman, and there was no way Gina wanted to jeopardize the supply of future goodies over a technicality.

“Is that why you’ve been standing next to the TV for the past twenty minutes, Mom? Just to snap that clapper when the movie was done?” Sophia’s sister, Bella, asked, not about to let her younger sister have all the fun of teasing their mother.

“It was not twenty minutes,” their mom protested. “And it was funny.”

There was a loud sniffle, followed by the sound of nose being blown. Gina scanned the dimly lit room. “Is someone getting sick?”

“No one better be getting sick.” Bella’s head swiveled toward her seven-month-old baby, who was sound asleep wearing a furry reindeer onesie with Baby’s First Christmas embroidered across the tummy. “If the baby catches a cold, I swear…”

“Settle down,” Sophia urged. “No one’s sick. It’s Dad.”

“Dad?” Carrie, the youngest daughter, sucked in her cheeks, fighting laughter. “Are you crying? At a Christmas movie?”

“I’m fine.” Sophia’s dad dabbed his eyes with his handkerchief, his lips settling into a pout. “I think the baby gave me a cold.”

“The baby isn’t sick,” Carrie countered. “We literally just established that.”

Sophia’s dad crossed his arms. “What are you implying? I don’t cry at movies.”

Everyone in the room chose that moment not to make eye contact with the older man, who was notorious for crying at the end of movies and then pretending he hadn’t. Whether the ending was happy or sad, it didn’t matter.

Sophia leaned over, her breath tickling Gina’s ear as she whispered, “Remember when I told you buying a house two streets away from my parents was a huge mistake?”

A phone rang, and instantly Sophia’s mom whipped the device out of her pocket and held it to her ear. “Cheryl, did you watch it? What did you think?”

“I think that’s my cue to get the rest of the snacks onto the table.” Gina held out a hand to help Sophia off the couch, knowing how little she enjoyed hearing people talk about her work. For a well-known actress, Sophia was far too humble to be anything but embarrassed by praise.

In the kitchen, Sophia let out a long sigh. “Whose idea was it to host the watch party for Christmas at Rainbow Falls at our house on Christmas Eve?”

“Don’t look at me.” Gina pulled a deli platter from the fridge. With Sophia’s mom and dad, her two sisters, and their spouses, the food would be gone in no time. Neither Gina nor Sophia had mastered the trick of providing endless quantities of food, no matter how effortless Sophia’s mom made it look.

“Okay, but for the record, this was your idea,” Sophia countered. “I wanted us to snuggle on the couch with a roaring fire, glasses of wine in hand, and after the movie, we could celebrate, just the two of us.”

“After that kiss you had with Hattie Dandridge in the last scene?” Gina muttered. “I’m not sure I could compete.”

“Are you still jealous about that?” Sophia put her hands on her hips. “I’m an actor. The characters kissed. I was simply doing my job. And I have to point out, you’re the one who wrote it that way.”

“Yeah, ten years ago! How was I supposed to know back then that you would end up playing the lead, or that Hattie Dandridge would be your love interest? I mean, that woman is…” Gina’s hands flailed wildly as she tried to express exactly what the woman was. “Anyway, I still can’t believe I wrote such a sappy ending. The only thing missing was for the entire town to break out into Hark! The Herald Angels Sing.”

“Aww. Like the Charlie Brown Christmas cartoon,” Sophia purred. “That would’ve been sweet.”

“It would’ve been over-the-top,” Gina said as she shook her head in amusement. “As much fun as it was to work on Rainbow, I don’t know how many more holiday movies I could do.”

“Talk to me after you’ve done another thirty.” Sophia laughed. “They don’t call me the Queen of Christmas for nothing.”

“I much prefer the new mystery series you’re doing.”

“That’s probably because my character has one doomed relationship after another, never so much as reaching the first kiss—hey, wait a minute.” Sophia crossed her arms. “Did you do that on purpose?”

Gina raised an eyebrow. “Do what?”

“You did, didn’t you?” Realization dawned in Sophia’s eyes. “How else do you explain a daring amateur sleuth being that inept in the love department?”

Gina held in a laugh. “Talk to your producer.”

“I’m talking to the head writer.” Sophia fixed her with a look that let Gina know she was know she was so busted.

“What’s taking so long?” Bella poked her head into the kitchen. “We’re starving out here.”

Sophia waved for Bella to grab the platter, leaving Sophia and Gina to manage the plates.

“You never smiled once,” Sophia’s mom, who was off the phone by this point, was saying to her husband as Gina and Sophia came into the room. “Why didn’t you ever smile? You were helping serve cider at a festival, and you looked like Herman Munster.”

As her mom said this, Carrie helped by reenacting the scene, pretending to ladle cider like a robot.

“They told me not to look at the camera,” Sophia’s dad said grumpily. “I never knew being an extra included so many rules. If they want people to act natural, don’t give them sheets of rules. It got confusing.”

“I don’t know. I nailed my part.” Sophia’s mom batted her lashes, every inch the starlet. “Cheryl called specifically to tell me that, you know.”

“You were customer number two in the bakery,” Bella mentioned, patting the baby’s back gently. “Your job was to stand and look at muffins.”

“Yes, well, Cheryl says Mary Lou told her I was a natural,” their mom huffed.

“Mary Lou has cataracts!” Carrie said with a wry shake of her head.

Sophia’s mom was growing red in the face. “She knows talent when she sees it.”

“She doesn’t see,” Carrie said with a snort. “That’s the point.”

“Pshaw!” Sophia’s mom waved a hand. “Gina, can you write me into the mystery series? A proper part. I can play the mom.”

“Because that’s not my definition of hell.” Sophia stabbed an olive with a toothpick. “Not at all.”

“After you living so far away for years, it’s the least you can do for me,” the older woman said, her guilt trip perfected from years of practice.

“I’m starting to regret giving up all those Christmas movies in Canada,” Sophia mumbled, seeming genuinely agitated by her family’s antics. Gina took Sophia’s hand and pulled her out of the living room, into the hallway.

“Breathe,” Gina soothed. “We need to make it until tomorrow night. As soon as we open presents and Christmas dinner is done, we’re off to the airport hotel, and then it’s a flight to Mexico in the morning. After that, it’s you and me in swimsuits on a beach, sipping piña coladas and listening to the waves.”

Sophia offered a dreamy smile that turned Gina’s knees into jelly. “Can we go now?”

“No.” Gina’s regret at having to say that was very real. “Your mom made me promise we couldn’t bail on Christmas morning.”

“She actually made you promise?” Sophia looked aghast.

“An actual verbal promise,” Gina confirmed. “She tried to make it a blood oath, but that’s where I drew the line.”

“I’m going to have a talk⁠—”

“No.” Gina put her hands on Sophia’s shoulders in the way that always calmed her when her family got to be too much. “We’re going back in there, and we’re going to have fun. Let’s put on It’s a Wonderful Life. Your mom loves that movie.”

“I know.” Sophia rolled her eyes. “She lip-syncs every line.”

“Exactly.” Gina’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “She’ll be so engrossed in reciting everything, she won’t have time to bust your chops.”

A smile spread across Sophia’s face. “That’s brilliant. I knew there was a reason I kept you around.”

“I thought it was because of this.” Gina wrapped her arms around Sophia’s neck, leaning in for a kiss.

“That is a perk.” Sophia confirmed when their mouths finally parted.

“Only a perk?”

“I’m hoping for more—and soon.” Sophia wore a naughty expression that stoked Gina’s fire like nothing else could.

“That can be arranged, darling.” For added emphasis, Gina kissed Sophia again in a way that promised a whole lot more. “I absolutely love you and would do anything for you.”

“Except write my character a kissing scene.” Sophia’s lower lip protruded in an exaggerated pout.

“No can do. I’m the only one who gets to kiss you for the rest of your life.”

Sophia’s eyebrows shot up. “Careful. A girl could almost mistake that for a proposal.”

Gina’s heart fluttered. “Would you say yes, if it were?”

“A thousand times, yes,” Sophia promised. “Although, I can’t say as I ever pictured the big moment would come while standing in a hallway, hiding out from my family on Christmas Eve.”

“Well then, it’s a good thing I have something a little more special planned when we get to Mexico.” Despite swearing to herself she wouldn’t give anything away ahead of time, Gina couldn’t hold back a grin.

“Are you serious?” Sophia breathed.

“Don’t say another word about this,” Gina warned. “If your mother finds out, she won’t let us leave until I actually do propose right here in this hallway for all of them to see.”

“I can’t wait to be alone with you for five whole days, because besides this”—Sophia kissed Gina with such passion it nearly stole her breath—“there’s so much I want to do.”

“You really are amazing, you know that?” Gina sighed. She was already dreaming of the candlelit dinner on the beach and the sparkling ring she would give to Sophia over champagne and strawberries as the waves washed onto the sand. It would be a perfect moment, but no more so than any moment with Sophia was. It didn’t matter where they were. Now that they were together, the simplest of things were exquisite and filled with joy.

“Together, there’s nothing we can’t conquer,” Sophia assured her, as if reading Gina’s thoughts.

“Even your mother?” Gina teased. “She’s going to come looking for us if we don’t get back in there. Shall we?”

Sophia looked at the arm Gina had offered, biting her lip. “Okay. But one more kiss, please?”

“As many as you want,” Gina promised. “Forever.”

A HUGE THANK YOU!

Thanks so much for reading the When Hollywood Comes to Town Collection!

We couldn’t have done this without the support of our generous Gold-level Patreon supporters, including: Diva007, Jackie, Zaïna Adam, Patti B., Debster, Debbie, Georgia Becker Scheve, Kayla Bhadra, Marie Clifford, Julia, Rose H., Buzz, Erin Wade, Tracey in WI, Ramona G., Jessie E., Diana B., Robin K., and Lyn.

We’ve cowritten so many books now and we’re often asked how we manage to work so well together. What many don’t realize is that we go way back. How far back? We were actually born in the same hospital, just nine weeks apart, although TB keeps insisting it was only seven weeks because math is not her strong suit. While we may quibble about plot points, we’re often laughing as we do.

In addition to cowriting, we also run I Heart SapphFic, a website we created that is dedicated to all things sapphic-fiction-related. You can search our massive database, the I Heart SapphFic BookFinder, to find your next sapphic read.

If you sign up for TB’s newsletter, she’ll send you a free copy of A Woman Lost, book 1 in the A Woman Lost series, plus the bonus chapters and Tropical Heat (a short story).

You’ll also be one of the first to hear about her many misadventures, like the time she accidentally ordered thirty pounds of oranges, instead of five. To be honest, that stuff happens to TB a lot, which explains why she owns three of the exact same Nice Tits T-shirt. Yes, we’re talking about birds here. TB loves birds.

And, if you want to follow the voice of reason in this duo, to find out the full scoop of what really happens behind the scenes, sign up for Miranda’s newsletter. Subscribers will receive her first book, Telling Lies Online, for free. The newsletters are heartfelt and funny, and often contain photos of her cats.

Thanks again for reading our book. It’s because of you that we are able to follow our dreams of being writers. It’s a wonderful gift, and we appreciate each and every reader.

All the best,

TB and Miranda

PS: If you enjoyed this book, we hope you’ll check out Book Lovers, a fantastically romantic story that also features a Pride scene (and so much more!) We’re not exaggerating when we say that of all the collaborations we’ve written so far, Book Lovers may be our favorite.

We’ve included a sample of the first chapter right after this, so keep reading!

PREVIEW OF BOOK LOVERS

BY T.B. MARKINSON AND MIRANDA MACLEOD

Chapter One

(Bennet)

I’m finally here.

As I stepped down from the train onto the Bath Spa station platform, my throat constricted, and I nearly cried. From emotion, yes, but also because a puff of diesel exhaust from the departing locomotive caught me in the face, shutting off my airways and nearly blinding me.

But it didn’t matter.

After a decade of scrimping and saving that had started with my first summer job in the library at the age of sixteen, I had finally made it to England. My heart’s true home. Birthplace of the magnificent, incomparable Jane Austen, my literary mother. This time it was definitely tears of gratitude and awe that stung my eyes as the opening notes of “God Save the King” swelled in my mind, and I⁠—

“Thanks for moving!”

I jumped as a man in business attire pushed past, his briefcase catching me on the elbow as his acerbic tone burned a hole straight through my soul. He muttered something to himself about tourists that was incomprehensible but definitely not complimentary. Indignation rose in my chest until I glanced down and realized my two rolling suitcases, backpack, and oversized shoulder bag were taking up most of the walkable space between where I had stopped dead in my tracks and the station exit.

Whoops.

Pulling out my trusty Kindle—which was housed in the genuine tooled-leather case my mother had given me especially for this trip, the one that made the ugly, modern device look like one of the antique books I loved so much—I opened the Bath tour guide I had downloaded before boarding my flight the night before.

Or was it this morning? I honestly had no idea.

With the time difference between Boston and London, it was just after five in the morning back home but late-morning here. My flight left in the evening, and I’d slept enough on the plane to be completely confused while not at all rested. Not great, since the day was burning itself away, and I had so much I wanted to do.

Dear God, I needed some coffee.

I flipped the digital pages of the tour book until I came to the author’s checklist of must-see sites. According to the map, Sally Lunn’s Historic Eating House was a short walk from the station and open for breakfast. It was the oldest house in Bath, built in 1482. A full ten years—ten!—before Europeans had discovered my continent. How extraordinary! Also, it was possible, though unproven, that Jane Austen had eaten at that very establishment and enjoyed their bunns (apparently spelled with two Ns) so much that she gave herself a tummy ache.

Clearly, I had to go there immediately.

Grabbing the handles of both rolling bags, I made my way down the road. The wheels of one bag instantly got stuck on the uneven flagstone pavers. Once I freed it, the other bag experienced the same issue, while my shoulder bag slid down my arm, cutting off the circulation. 

As a taxi breezed past, I watched in hopelessness, wishing I had thought to hail one instead of attempting this ill-fated walk. But no. I was determined to experience Bath as Jane Austen would have—on foot, taking in every sight and sound.

And smell. A whiff of overripe trash wafted from an alley. The temperature was pleasant for a mid-September morning, but warm enough to do terrible things to rotting refuse. I’ll admit that in my imagination, the city had more of a fresh-baked bread and flowers aroma, but the history lover in me acknowledged this stench was equally accurate to the time period. I wrinkled my nose and hurried past.

A sign shaped like a shield hung from a sandy-hued building with a blue door and matching bow window. It read Sally Lunn’s and gave a date of 1680, which wasn’t as old as I’d been led to believe. In fact, if that was correct, it was almost forty years younger than the oldest house in Massachusetts.

And people think America lacks history.

Not that it mattered. Whether 1482 or 1680, I would not be disappointed because Jane Austen had definitely never eaten anywhere in my home state but had possibly stood exactly where my feet were now. Honestly, I could have stared all day at the building’s exterior. Except that I was starving. To hammer home the point, my stomach rumbled like it hadn’t been fed in a lifetime. 

For some reason, instead of a smooth threshold to make rolling my suitcases inside easy, there was a small half-step that necessitated lifting each bag individually. I wrangled the first one, nearly toppling backward as I heaved it over the step. The second bag proved even more challenging, its weight threatening to pull me off balance. I struggled to maneuver my things beyond the narrow doorway, bumping my head against the frame and nearly splattering myself on the floor in the process.

With a herculean effort, I finally got myself and both bags inside the restaurant and closed the door. If there was a judging system for my style, I’d have to give myself two out of ten points at best. But I was in. 

“You okay?” A woman about the same age as me, wearing a long blue dress, white apron, and some type of bonnet on her head, rushed forward to help, steadying me with a hand on my arm.

“Yep.” A bead of sweat trickled down my back. “All good.” 

Was I hallucinating? Either this woman was wearing a costume, or I had hit my head a lot harder than I thought.

The woman’s concerned expression morphed into a warm smile. “Welcome to Sally Lunn’s. I’m Alice. Are you here for breakfast?”

“Yes,” I replied, still slightly dazed. “Are you dressed in period clothing?”

“No, I like to throw on a petticoat and corset sometimes to liven up the workday,” Alice replied with a wink that sent a rush of heat to my cheeks. “Are you coming or going?” 

“Excuse me?” 

Alice pointed to my bags. 

“Oh, right. You must think I’m an idiot.” I released one of the bags to give my forehead the bonk it deserved, but the bag started to tip over, so I stopped the motion in time to seize the handle. “I just arrived. Flew into London this morning and got to the train station here about fifteen minutes ago. I haven’t had any caffeine. Or food.”

“That explains a lot. Let’s get you to a table.” The woman took one of my bags from me, and I had to wonder if she was doing it to be kind or only wanted to protect the furniture and walls from the boorish American oaf who had descended on her establishment. 

We walked under an archway into a room with an apricot-painted wall and a fireplace, though I doubted it was operational anymore. There was a built-in shelf in the corner with some vases and a blue decorative plate. The simple wood floors, tables, and chairs all oozed a cottage core vibe that made me feel like I was in a fairytale. 

Alice stopped in front of a large table next to the window, which I looked at with surprise. 

“This is all for me?” I shoved my bags under the table, grimacing as they scraped loudly against the ancient wooden floor.

Alice winced slightly but maintained her polite smile. “We’re not too busy at the moment, so you’re welcome to spread out,” she said. “Here’s a menu. Can I get you tea or coffee while you peruse?” 

“I’d kill for a gallon of coffee.” 

“Good thing we use the metric system. Wouldn’t want you to end up in prison.” Another wink accompanied her smile. 

At least, I thought that was what I saw, but it happened so fast. Plus, my contacts were all gluey from the short nap I’d taken on the overnight flight, so everything around me was enveloped in a soft haze.

I had finished reading the menu when Alice came back with the coffee. 

“I’m leaning toward the English Breakfast Bunn, but what’s black pudding?” I asked, while pouring milk into my mug. 

“If you have to ask, you don’t want it. Trust me on this. There’s a reason I’m a vegetarian. The French toast is very popular with Americans. Plenty of sugar, which you all love so much.” 

I laughed, feeling a bit more at ease. “Noted. What do you think Jane Austen would order, though? Surely not French toast. I think I’ll have the Welsh rarebit. The menu says it’s from the 1700s, and I’d like to be as authentic as possible.” 

Alice let out an unmistakable groan. “Oh, you’re one of those. Let me guess, you’re here for the 250th anniversary celebration.”

“It’s all I’ve been thinking about for months. Years, even,” I corrected, unable to hold in my enthusiasm even though it was obvious my present company was less than impressed. “Don’t you live and breathe everything Jane Austen?” 

“No.” 

“How about Charles Dickens? He came here, too.” 

“So I’ve heard. But no.” 

“Not much of a reader, then?” I guessed, oddly deflated.

Alice’s eyes flashed with sudden intensity. “On the contrary, I’m an avid reader. I prefer contemporary works that couldn’t double as anesthesia if I had to have an emergency appendectomy. Which I would prefer to reading anything written prior to the 1990s, if I’m being honest.”

I clutched the front of my shirt over my heart as if I’d been physically struck. “You seemed nice up until now, so I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. Jane Austen is timeless. Her insights into human nature, her wit, her⁠—”

“Endless descriptions of bonnets and carriages,” Alice interrupted with an eye roll.

“Do you see this?” I dug my Kindle out of my bag and held it up for her to see.

“An antique copy of Pride and Prejudice?” Alice asked, reading the title on the cover. “I’m only guessing, of course. I’ve never seen one before. You’re definitely the first person to bring anything like that in here.”

“Very funny,” I said, unable to keep the exasperation from my voice. I opened the cover to reveal the device inside and was vindicated to see her eyes widen at the unexpected sight. “Clever, right? My mother gave it to me for my trip. She knows how much I love old books, but also how impractical it would be to lug them all across the Atlantic.”

Alice leaned in for a closer look, her earlier disdain seemingly forgotten. “That is rather clever. And quite thoughtful of your mum.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” I set the Kindle down on the chair beside me. “She helped me out with the cost of renting Jane Austen’s actual apartment on Sydney Place for my two-week stay after Sean backed out of the trip.”

“Sean?”

“My boyfriend.” I said this with a dejected sigh that would have been impossible to go undetected.

Alice’s eyebrows raised. “Ah, I see. Ex-boyfriend now, I take it?”

I shook my head. “No, we’re still together. He just... couldn’t make it.” The words felt hollow even as I said them.

“Couldn’t make it to the event you have clearly been planning to attend since the moment you emerged from the womb?”

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, suddenly wishing I hadn’t brought up Sean at all. “He had some work commitments come up at the last minute. It’s not a big deal.”

Alice’s skeptical look made it clear she wasn’t buying it. “Right. I’m sure he’ll be devastated to miss out on all the Jane Austen festivities. Men famously love that sort of thing.”

I bristled at her sarcastic tone. “Sean appreciates literature. He’s very well-read. He even dabbles with books published prior to 1990, if you can believe it.”

“A true prince. I’ll be back with your Welsh rarebit shortly.” She turned from me and walked away briskly, her departure leaving me with the sense that I had pushed the conversation too far and insulted her in the process. It hadn’t been my intention, but it wasn’t the first time my mouth ran ahead of me and started trouble.

I craned my neck to look out the window, sighing. I shouldn’t have mentioned Sean. The wound was still too fresh, the disappointment too raw. I had spent so long planning this trip, saving every penny, researching the perfect itinerary. And then, right before we were set to leave, he dropped the bombshell.

I took a sip of my coffee, wincing at the bitterness in the cup that so perfectly matched my mood. To hell with him. I couldn’t allow some guy—even one I really liked—to ruin this trip for me.

I was in Bath! And I couldn’t wait to eat so I could go ditch my bags at the apartment and tour the city. Nothing was going to take away my enjoyment of the next two weeks, even if I did have to spend them alone.

A different server, a young man wearing knee-breeches and a waistcoat, brought my meal. It was delicious, but it left me flat. I was embarrassed by how I’d spoken to Alice earlier, and I’d hoped she would return so I could apologize. But she didn’t, and I finished my meal in solitude, feeling lonelier than ever.

After paying my bill, (and adding a twenty percent tip even though everyone had told me it wasn’t required here, because it felt wrong not to), I jostled my bags out from under the table and started the trek to Jane Austen’s former residence on Sydney Place. The walk was only supposed to take about fifteen minutes according to my phone’s map app, but with my luggage in tow, it felt like an eternity. I was determined not to let it get me down. The city was beautiful, and I wasn’t going to allow sore feet and a sour disposition ruin that fact.

I reached the Georgian townhouse, collected the key from the lockbox, using the code my host had texted, and let myself into the apartment. A thrill of excitement coursed through me as I breathed in the history that permeated the air. A history that smelled primarily of modern-day cleaning products, but underneath that, I could definitely sense the essence of Jane Austen lingering in every corner.

I dropped my bags with a thud and wandered through the apartment, running my fingers along the walls as if I could absorb the famous writer’s spirit through osmosis. It didn’t look remotely the way it had during the 1800s. This was expected, as during Jane’s day—I was a guest in her home so I felt comfortable proceeding on a first name basis—this floor had housed a kitchen and butler’s pantry. Now it was a bright space that overlooked a plant-filled courtyard, with artwork on every wall, shelves dripping with greenery, and period details like a massive fireplace and original Georgian paneling that spoke to its historical authenticity.

I made my way through the living room with its L-shaped sofa of crushed blue velvet and into the main bedroom. The walls were a soft dove gray, except for the one opposite the bed, which boasted a floral wallpaper in peacock green and a huge, though non-functioning, fireplace. The furniture was well over a hundred years old—not quite Austen-era, but definitely antique.

It was everything I had dreamed it would be. Overcome, I hopped in the air, trying to click my heels, and ended up falling onto the bed in a fit of giggles. 

When I’d recovered enough to breathe, I set my suitcases on the bed and opened them, quickly separating out my mundane modern clothing and squirreling it all away in a chest of drawers. The rest of my things—several Regency-style gowns, a corset, frilly underthings, and a long nightgown and matching robe made of fine cotton with pink roses that just about screamed Jane Austen—I hung carefully in the wardrobe, smoothing out any wrinkles with the same care I’d give to priceless artifacts. Which, in a way, these clothes were. Not originals, alas, but I’d spent months sewing, not to mention scouring Etsy and vintage shops, to build my reproduction wardrobe, determined to fully immerse myself in the Regency experience during my stay.

After taking off my travel clothes, I padded into the bathroom for a quick shower. When I was squeaky clean and dry, I returned to my room and couldn’t resist slipping on the nightgown and robe, twirling in front of the full-length mirror like a child playing dress up. The soft fabric swished around my ankles as I imagined Jane herself doing the same, perhaps composing lines of witty dialogue in her head as she prepared for bed. Jane had written The Watson’s while living in this very apartment, or started it, at least, since the book had been left unfinished at the time of her death. I had a copy of the published fragment on my Kindle, as well as the version her niece had attempted to finish for her in the 1850s.

I glanced longingly at the bed with its tall headboard and plump pillows. A yawn escaped me, reminding me how exhausted I was from my travels. I couldn’t possibly nap now. There was too much to see and do. I had a whole itinerary planned. But the jet lag was hitting me hard. What if I grabbed my Kindle from my bag and did some reading? Maybe not in bed, which could prove too tempting, but in one of the cozy armchairs in the living room.

Sleeping the day away was out of the question, but reading a genuine work of Jane Austen fiction in the very spot in which it had been penned was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. And if I happened to close my eyes once or twice, so be it.

Not that I would be bored reading, of course. I was nothing like that server, Alice, with her misguided literary opinions.

I should have been angry thinking about the woman’s dismissive comments about my idol, but instead, a twinge of regret pinched my chest. As a woman traveling alone, it had been fun talking to another woman—and a book lover, too, even if her taste in reading material was complete trash.

You shouldn’t have been so defensive about Sean, I told myself. Alice had clearly seen right through my feeble excuses for his bad behavior. But what else could I do? I was nothing if not loyal, and we were going to get married someday. Well, probably. Not that he had asked or even hinted. But we’d been together for over a year, and that had to mean it was serious. Although, oddly, if I’d had to choose between Sean’s company and that server’s, I thought I might choose Alice.

I shook my head, banishing those confusing thoughts. I was here for my dream trip, not to make friends or dwell on my relationship troubles. With renewed determination to enjoy myself, I rifled through my shoulder bag in search of my Kindle. My stomach dropped, and my blood turned icy as I came up empty-handed.

No. No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening.

I dumped the contents of the bag onto the bed, frantically pawing through lipsticks, crumpled receipts, and loose change. 

Nothing.

“Where’s my Kindle?” I asked the empty space around me, as if expecting Jane Austen’s ghost to appear and help me search. A preposterous idea. How would she even know what a Kindle looked like? 

I closed my eyes, trying to remember the last time I saw it. 

My eyes flew open as the memory hit me. The restaurant. I’d taken out my Kindle to show Alice the cover.

“Oh no,” I groaned, sinking onto the bed. I must have left it on the chair beside me when our conversation took that awkward turn. How could I have been so careless?

Because you’re literally a walking disaster, my subconscious suggested in response. This was exactly the sort of absentminded thing I’d do. Everyone was always teasing me about my tendency to misplace things. Usually it was my phone or keys, but this was so much worse.

There was no time to waste. I had to get back to Sally Lunn’s right away. What if someone had already taken my Kindle? The thought made me sick to my stomach.

I grabbed the keys and rushed to the door, where I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My hair was still damp from the shower, and I looked pale and frazzled. Also, I was wearing a nightgown and robe.

“Crap.”

I couldn’t very well run through the streets of Bath in my nightclothes like some sort of Regency-era madwoman. As much as I longed to fully immerse myself in the time period, there were limits. I hurried back to the bedroom, shedding my robe and tossing it onto the sofa as I passed. Once I was properly dressed, I would go rescue my precious Kindle.

* * *

End of Sample

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ABOUT THE AUTHORS

TB Markinson is an American who’s recently returned to the US after a seven-year stint in the UK and Ireland. When she isn’t writing, she’s traveling the world, watching sports on the telly, visiting pubs in New England, or reading. Not necessarily in that order.

Visit TB’s website (lesbianromancesbytbm.com) to say hello. On the Lesbians Who Write weekly podcast, she and Clare Lydon dish about the good, the bad, and the ugly of writing.

Originally from southern California, Miranda MacLeod now lives in New England and writes heartfelt romances and romantic comedies featuring witty and charmingly flawed women that you'll want to marry. Or just grab a coffee with, if that's more your thing.

Before becoming a writer, she spent way too many years in graduate school, worked in professional theater and film, and held temp jobs in just about every office building in downtown Boston. To find out about her upcoming releases, be sure to sign up for her mailing list at mirandamacleod.com.

TB and Miranda also co-own I Heart SapphFic, a website for authors and readers of sapphic fiction to stay up-to-date on all the latest sapphic fiction news. The duo won a Golden Crown Literary Award for The AM Show in 2022 and Midlife is the Cat’s Meow in 2023.