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“The women in these movies are always stomping around the snow in stilettos.”

“No way. No. No one would ever believe that’s a normal thing that actual humans do. And I don’t do heels anymore, we’re archenemies, and yes, that pun was intended,” Annie proclaimed, high-fiving herself. “And I’m way too messy for all this white winter wear.”

“Apparently, not in this alternative place. I think you’re Made-for-TV Christmas Movie Annie now. And maybe this is exactly what you’d wear here. In any case, pun also intended … because it’s a suitcase …” Nick grinned, holding his hand up, but when Annie didn’t joyfully slap it, he moved to the door. “I’ll let you get dressed. And I’ll go change too.”

“You’re going to have to carry me there if I’m in these shoes!” Annie wailed, holding up a pair of red peep-toes. Nick laughed, and Arthur wove between his legs, making a figure eight of affection before jingling and jumping inside the open suitcase.

“Well, that’s absolutely adorable.” Nick pointed at Arthur as he slowly blinked. When Annie tried to shoo both boys away, she noticed an ornament tied to the top of her bag’s handle.

“What’s this?” Annie asked Nick as he turned back. She reached for it and untied it; it read, “Math puns are the first sine of madness.” “That’s horrific,” Annie gasped, truly tormented by the gruesome geekiness. “Was this on your bag too?” Annie asked Nick.

“Mine had an ornament that said, ‘You mean snow much to me’ with two cartoon snow people sharing one red scarf,” Nick said, but he seemed suddenly stiffer and wouldn’t meet Annie’s eyes. Before she could push him on it, though, he made another move for the door. “I’ll let you get ready, see you in a few minutes.”

Annie pieced together an outfit of pristine, high-cut, dark-washed jeans with silver buttons instead of a zipper, matched with one of the many white sweaters. She grabbed the hat and white coat and tried to pick the shoe with the smallest heel. Annie glimpsed the mirror and was surprised to see she looked quite pretty. Her hair fell in loose waves around her face, and she mused that it gave a redder impression than its usual brown, wondering if it was a trick of the light or another movie side effect. Her cheeks were pink and rosy with a pleasant glow that Annie hoped she could one day recreate with the right blush and highlighter. The pom-pom hat only further complemented her face. I am freaking adorable, Annie marveled. Well, dream, mysterious gas outbreak, and/or potential alien attack aside, at least she felt cute.

“Oh!” Nick breathed when he saw her again, waiting patiently outside her front door. He was wearing a crisp green flannel shirt topped with a dark emerald peacoat. His cheeks flushed and he looked down at his feet.

“What do you think?” Annie asked.

“You look straight out of a movie,” Nick said softly.

“When in Rome and all that,” Annie said, sweeping away his compliment while secretly inviting it to curl up across her chest for safekeeping. She didn’t like that she was so desperate for a compliment from a guy that she would allow the words of Nick, her forever nerdy neighbor, to resonate so thoroughly, but it was still nice to hear. “Shall we?” Annie asked, gliding onto the front porch in graceful clicks.

Annie was relieved that while the ground (and her car) were covered in permanent fluffy snow, it still didn’t feel all that cold; in fact, it was downright pleasant. She felt most comfortable with her jacket open, collarbone exposed. And she never once wished for the company of a scarf. But most miraculously, her heeled feet maneuvered with unusual ease, like Annie was skating on a supportive cloud.

“Let’s start with the café. Are you hungry?” Nick asked once they could see Main Street in all its glory.

“Alarmingly, I don’t feel very hungry. But, sure, I could always eat,” Annie said. Nick nodded and led them closer.

“Déjà Brew?” Annie asked. “That’s the name of the café?”

“It’s a cute pun,” Nick said, opening the door for them. The air smelled like thick apple pie slices fresh from the oven. There was an instrumental track playing that seemed vaguely familiar and festive, clearly some wordless off-brand Christmas song they could get the rights for. Next to a large, brightly lit Christmas tree, there was a bakery display full of decorated cakes, showcasing rows of red and green icing. The whole place was giving cozy but very early 2000s. When the door jingled closed behind Annie and Nick, everything halted, and everyone inside turned to look at the newcomers. For a moment, no one moved or said a word; Annie could feel their strange stares scorching into them.

“Nicholas Laurel?” a high-pitched, sugary sweet voice called out. Nick turned to look.

“Bailey Jones?” he asked, his mouth open wide. Annie was unsure why they were both inclined to include last names.

“I didn’t know you were back,” Bailey breathed. Nick seemed momentarily stunned as Bailey moved closer, and the two embraced in a slow-motion hug. Annie took a step back to take Bailey in. She was like a small bright light absorbing Nick and making him shine alongside her. Her hair was so blonde it was nearly white, with bangs that framed her heart-shaped face. Made-for-TV Christmas movie Bailey Jones looked like a doll that had come to life, or perhaps the Christmas angel on top of a tree, now staring up at Nick and asking him to please play with her.

“Whoa, are you a news anchor?” Annie asked, and both Nick and Bailey stared at her. Bailey let out a giggle that sounded more like a twinkling chime than actual laughter. “Your hair has real news anchor energy.” Annie shrugged, and Nick and Bailey went back to making eyes at each other.

“I’m house-sitting for my folks. They’re on a cruise,” Nick babbled. “Do you still live in town?”

“I came back home to help my parents with the café,” she smiled, gesturing around the room. “Business had been, well, a little slow,” Bailey whispered to Nick. “But things seem to be picking up now that I’m here baking all the cupcakes and cookies,” Bailey finished proudly. “Can I get you a table?” Bailey asked, glancing back at Annie. “Um, together?” Her eyes looked pained at the idea of Nick and Annie sharing a table for two.

“We’re just neighbors,” Annie assured her, not wanting Bailey to experience another moment of anguish that she was so clearly projecting all over her sweet baby doll angel face. Bailey bit down on her perfectly pink lip, smoothed her broadcast-ready hair, and smiled, leading them to a booth in the back corner.

“I’ll seat you in the antique section,” Bailey cooed, “It’s my favorite spot in the café.”

“This is also an antique shop?” Annie asked.

“We carry a few curated items. It’s in honor of my great-grandfather, Wally Jones, who once owned this store. He was an avid collector and loved showcasing his special treasures for the town of Simsbury, especially during the Christmas season,” Bailey explained. “See, here’s a picture of him!” She pointed to a black-and-white picture of an attractive young man framed at eye level to their table. “Isn’t he a dish?” Bailey sighed.

“A dish?” Annie asked.

“So handsome,” Bailey said, looking fondly at the picture.

“Woof. Hard-on for ole great-grampy much?” Annie whispered to Nick, and he nudged her quickly in the ribs. Annie let out a sharp gasp of surprise, awakening Bailey from her trance.