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“I kissed both boys, Dad. Me. Crazy, right? And now, James has feelings for me. Maybe Sam does too, even though he won’t…” I stopped my pacing. “This was not part of the plan. Do I just throw in the towel for Operation Ho Ho Humbug? Did I totally screw up The Market’s odds at surviving by getting too close to James?” I sighed and crouched down. “And is it even fair for me to pick someone when it means someone else will be hurt?”

Or what if I do pick someone, but they don’t want me?

A cardinal flew by and settled on top of a headstone nearby, its red feathers a stark contrast to the sea of white around us. I loved that certain birds stuck around after the seasons changed. It always reminded me that even though the winter nights were dark and long, spring, a new start, would still eventually come.

I ran my fingers over the grooves of my claddagh ring under my glove and blinked back tears as the answers I needed settled into my heart.

I couldn’t throw in the towel for Operation Ho Ho Humbug. Not yet.

My town, my family, were counting on me to give it my all to save The Market, and that’s what I would do.

But I had to be honest with both boys.

They deserved that.

I had assumed the arrival of the Baileys was an obstacle, an unexpected knot or a blown bulb, in our predictable holiday strand of traditions.

Maybe the Baileys were always meant to find Mullings Creek.

Maybe some people came into our lives just for a season.

The cardinal chirped before it flew away to a grove of snow-covered trees, its red still visible from a distance.

And maybe others were always meant to stay in our lives during their changes.

After going home to shower and change into warmer clothes, I ventured back out to help as many people as possible shovel out their storefronts. By then, the sounds of laughing, squealing kids filled the air as they took their first sledding trips of the season on the big hill in the park.

Just as I’d finished clearing off the snow from the benches outside Ann’s bookstore, a panicked Mayor Moore hurried through the street, slipping and sliding as he went.

“That’s never a good sign,” Ann mumbled before disappearing into her store where Scout sat at attention, tail twitching.

“Mayor Moore?” I stepped into the street. “You okay?”

He stopped and put a hand on his chest that rapidly rose and fell. “No, Ms. Mancini, I am definitely not okay.” He took out a handkerchief from his coat pocket and dabbed his forehead. “Levi has the flu.”

“Oh no.” I propped an elbow on the handle of the shovel.

He paled and wrung the handkerchief in his hands. “How will we find another photographer for our Breakfast with Santa event that begins in…” He stretched his arm through his coat to look at his watch. “One hour?”

“Don’t worry. We can fix this.” I gently took his arm and had him lead me out into the middle of the street. “What if we sent out a quick text alert and changed it to Selfies with Santa?”

His nose scrunched up in disapproval.

Never mind.

I looked around Mistletoe Lane, hoping something would hold the answers, and that was when I heard Christmas melodies drifting down from Mom’s studio. Mom wasn’t a photographer, but I’d had a conversation with someone in that studio whose father used to be.

I pulled out my phone and sent a quick text to James.

Me: Good snowy morning!

Me: Can you and your dad meet me at The Market in like thirty minutes?

The conversation bubble immediately appeared a second before his reply came through.

James: Definitely!

James: Is this a new plan for Operation Ho Ho Humbug?