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Nicole headed up to her new room, taking the winding staircase up to the second floor. The room, when she saw it, took her breath away. She couldn’t believe this was going to be her home for an entire month.

The four-poster bed looked soft and comfortable, with an eyelet bed skirt and sham pillows, a tartan bedspread, and evergreen-embroidered throw pillows, along with a knitted throw blanket draped over the end of it. There was a fireplace in the bedroom, with a wingback chair in front of it for reading, and a balcony overlooking the town square. There was vintage art on the walls, a dark wood dresser and nightstand, and when she went to explore the bathroom she found a clawfoot tub as well as a more modern, separate shower.

It was perfect, she thought. It was everything she’d imagined and more, and she couldn’t get enough of it. Despite the December chill, she stepped outside onto the balcony to take in her first real view of Fir Tree Grove. The town spread out below her like a living Christmas card, stores and houses and lampposts adorned with lights and decorations, and she shivered more with excitement than with cold. She felt a wave of emotion wash over her as she took it all in.

All the choices in front of her were hers to make. The unknown could be scary, but it was also exciting. She had no idea what was going to unfold for her in this little town, but it was all new possibilities, the chance for the complete upending of her life with the end of her marriage and job to turn into something so much better.

Anything could happen next, she realized. She wasn’t Nicole the office manager or Nicole, Carl’s wife, any longer. She was just Nicole, a woman in her early fifties brave enough to start her life over again, standing on a picturesque balcony in a perfect little town where no one knew the tumult her life had become over the last year. No one knew about her divorce or her job loss or how hard she’d tried to keep it all together, and they wouldn’t unless she chose to tell them. The sudden freedom of that realization was exhilarating.

A smile came to her lips as she looked at the Christmas lights strung over the buildings. She couldn’t wait to see them lit up, to see just how magical this little town would become. As she stood there with her arms wrapped around herself against the cold, she felt a rush of certainty that she’d made the right choice.

Her stomach growled again, more insistently this time, reminding her that a pumpkin muffin, however delicious, wasn’t sufficient food for the day. She thought of driving past the Snowdrift Diner and the Maplewood Tavern, and she decided that she would get cleaned up and go out to dinner. She was ready, she thought, to take on her first venture out into the town… or she would be, as soon as she’d freshened up.

There was a gift basket on the dresser with bags of local tea, a slip of chocolates from a local store, bars of handmade soap, and a bottle of cold cider. She heard a knock at the door, and went to open it, finding the hot cider that Christopher had offered on a cart outside. She brought the teacup and saucer it was served in back into the room with her, sipping on it as she set her bags next to the bed and went into the bathroom.

One shower later, she felt far more human. She blow-dried her hair and tossed it up in a messy bun, opting for a pair of jeans, equestrian-style boots, and a deep red sweater to venture out in, along with her favorite heavy coat. She didn’t bother with makeup, wanting to feel fresh and relaxed as she explored the possibilities of what she might run into in this new place.

Before she’d left, Janet had told her to make sure she was running toward something, not just away from everything that had happened. At the time, she hadn’t been sure she could make that distinction. The impulse to flee had been so overwhelming that she couldn’t really think about the future, just the decision to start over.

But now, getting ready to head out into a town that had welcomed her with holiday cheer and fresh muffins, she began to feel as if she might have been running toward something after all, even if she hadn’t recognized it at the time. Whatever unfolded over the next days and weeks, she was ready to meet it with the kind of openness she hadn’t felt in years.

She was going to go to the Maplewood Tavern, she decided. She would eat a dinner that she didn’t have to cook, that was only for herself, have a glass of wine and enjoy some people-watching. She had a book tucked into her purse, and nowhere else to be for the rest of the evening, no one else who needed anything from her.

This would be her first evening as a resident of somewhere she’d chosen entirely for herself.

As she locked the door of her room at the Hearthside Cottage and headed downstairs to begin her first evening in Fir Tree Grove, she felt a lightness she hadn’t felt in months, as if she’d jumped off of a cliff and realized, to her surprise, that she wasn’t going to fall.

CHAPTER SIX

The morning air carried the sharp bite of December as Henry shifted on the ladder leaned up against the front of Cheerful Chapters, Fir Tree Grove’s charming little bookstore. Today’s job was relatively simple—stringing warm white lights along the bookstore’s trim and around the large front windows that displayed the holiday reading selections surrounded by reindeer, snowmen, and small Christmas trees. The owner hadn’t wanted anything particularly dramatic, just something elegant and soft to make the window displays stand out more.

Twice while he’d been on the ladder, he’d been offered hot tea and thanks from the owner of the shop, who was beyond pleased with the magic he’d made happen with a handful of string lights. “The children are going to love seeing them twinkle,” she’d said happily. “And then their parents come in and buy books. It’s a wonderful partnership.”

He reached into his pouch for another clip for good measure, wanting to make sure that everything was well-secured. The lights were draped in perfect symmetrical swags, everything done except for a few rote finishing tasks, and his mind drifted back in time without him meaning for it to.

When they were younger, Daisy had come along with him to work sometimes, bringing thermoses of coffee and sitting on nearby benches to serve as his “unofficial supervisor” as she sometimes liked to call herself. She’d give him opinions that almost always turned out to be right about spacing between bulbs and the length of the draping and which colors looked best. And she’d always loved his ideas too, making him feel like this was really what his calling was.

Last year had been the first time he’d put up a Christmas tree since losing her. It just didn’t feel the same any longer, he reflected. There was no one to create increasingly complicated lighting displays for, no one to surprise when he flicked the switch on, no one to share memories with as they hung stockings and ornaments and draped garlands. Out here, there were still people to create the holiday magic with, but at home, it felt pointless.

Which meant that when he wasn’t busy enough to keep his mind occupied, he felt deeply lonely. The years passing hadn’t dimmed the memory of how much joy he’d felt every year preparing for the holidays with Daisy. As he thought about it, his chest ached, and he felt a deep, hollow sadness at the reminder that this year, like every other, he would be on his own.

There were plenty of invitations he could accept for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, of course, neighbors and friends who didn’t want him to be alone. But it wasn’t the same. Other couples his age were planning their Christmas celebrations together, debating whether to host family dinner or travel to visit children and grandchildren, and being an additional guest at someone else’s holiday celebrations without Daisy didn’t feel right.

He’d tried, over the years, to imagine meeting someone new. Well-meaning friends had occasionally attempted matchmaking, introducing him to widowed or divorced women from church or community organizations. But every interaction had felt forced and artificial. No one else fit. It had never felt right, and he’d never been one to force relationships that didn’t feel natural. He’d always preferred his own company to company he didn’t enjoy, and even more so when it came to romance. He felt sure that he would never find anyone who would bring his heart the kind of joy that Daisy had.

Henry had more or less resigned himself to spending his remaining Christmases alone, finding meaning in the joy he could bring to others rather than seeking his own happiness. It wasn’t a bitter resignation—he was genuinely grateful for the friendships that kept him going. But there were moments when the loneliness felt particularly heavy, when he caught himself missing having someone to share even simple things with, like a drink by the fire on a perfect, snowy December night.

He tried to push away the lingering melancholy. The Christmas season often felt like it amplified everything, every emotion, and he tried to accept the bittersweet nature of his holiday emotions rather than fighting against them.

He’d just set foot on the concrete sidewalk again when he caught sight of a woman walking out of the bookstore, a book open in her hand as she scanned the first pages. She was so absorbed in what she was reading that she was, he realized, about to run directly into the ladder he was still holding, clearly unaware of any obstacle in her path. Henry opened his mouth to call out a warning, but she was moving too quickly.

Without thinking, he moved into her path, reaching out to gently catch her shoulders just as she would have collided with the ladder’s metal frame. “Careful there,” he said, holding her still for a moment.

The woman looked up with a startled expression, her book clutched against her chest as she took in the situation she’d nearly walked into. Henry found himself momentarily speechless as he met her eyes—a soft blue that reminded him of clear winter skies. Her hair was shoulder-length, brown with streaks of gray at the roots, and it curled softly at the ends as it touched her shoulders. She was wearing a well-tailored blue plaid coat, and a scarf bunched up around her neck against the cold.

Henry was startled at how beautiful he found her. She looked almost familiar somehow, and he felt strangely drawn to her, as if he’d been expecting to meet her without realizing it.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice slightly breathless with surprise, embarrassment, or both. “I wasn’t watching where I was going at all. I hope I didn’t startle you or make you lose your balance.”