And now we’re adding petting zoo operators to our résumé.
Though, I’m curious to find out more about this Omega Chris is already infatuated with.
5
HANNAH
“Are you sure you should go there alone?” Lily’s voice crackles through my car’s speakers, concerned and slightly judgmental, which is her default setting when I’m doing something she thinks is questionable.
“Yes, it’ll be fine.” I adjust my grip on the steering wheel, watching Main Street scroll past through intermittent snowflakes. “I just need to verify that he actually has reindeer. That’s all.”
“You could’ve asked him to send a photo.”
“A photo can be faked. I need to see them with my own eyes.” I pause at a red light, watching a family cross the street, bundled in matching scarves. “After Scot, I can’t… I can’t afford to so easily trust again. I need to know this is real before tomorrow.” I also googled him but there’s almost nothing on him online.
There’s a beat of silence on the other end. “Okay. Fair. And good idea to bring the brownies as an excuse.”
“Obviously. Perfect cover story. Just dropping by with baked goods to thank him for helping, totally casual, definitely not stalking to verify his livestock claims.”
“That’s only slightly creepy.”
The light turns green, and I ease forward. “Besides, he won’t mind. Right? I mean, who turns away brownies brought to their home?”
“Someone with a restraining order against you, maybe.”
“Not helpful, Lily.”
She laughs, and I can picture her in the bakery, probably elbow-deep in cookie dough, phone wedged between her shoulder and ear. “Fine. But I want all the updates.”
“You watch too many murder documentaries.”
“And you’re about to drive to an isolated property to confront a bounty hunter you barely know. One of us is being sensible here.”
“One of us is being paranoid.”
I’m driving through the heart of Whispering Grove now, and even mid-morning on a Friday, the town is packed. Tourists everywhere, families window-shopping, couples sipping coffee on heated patios, kids pressing their faces against bakery windows. The Christmas parade is tomorrow, followed by carols near the town tree at night, and everyone wants to be here for it.
Over the phone, I hear Lily working. We are often on the phone where we don’t say anything, and it’s like having each other close when we go somewhere alone.
Around me, the entire town looks like a Christmas card magically came to life. Garland wrapped around every lamppost, lights strung between buildings, wreaths on every door. Store windows display elaborate holiday scenes of Santa’s workshop at the toy store, a winter wonderland at the boutique, gingerbread villages at competing bakeries trying to outdo each other.
Speakers mounted on poles, and a group of carolers in Victorian costumes stands outside the bookstore, singing something classical and beautiful.
Despite everything, despite Scot, despite my imploding career and anxiety churning in my gut, I love this vibe. I love Christmas in Whispering Grove. The energy, the magic, the way the whole town transforms into something out of a snow globe.
Fat flakes stick to my windshield before the wipers sweep them away. It’s the perfect postcard weather, picturesque without being dangerous.
“I’m heading out of town now,” I tell Lily as I turn onto Mountain Pass Road. “Leaving civilization behind. If I don’t come back, tell everyone I died doing something brave.”
“Like verifying reindeer ownership?”
“Exactly. Very noble. Put it on my tombstone.”
“Here lies Hannah Parker, killed by suspicious livestock verification. Has a nice ring to it.”
I snort, navigating the curve that takes me away from Main Street and toward the mountain range. The road narrows, trees pressing in on both sides, snow heavier here where the plows haven’t reached yet.
“So how’d you even get the address?” Lily asks.
