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Chapter One
If there’s one place in the world that truly captures the magic of Christmas, it’s Reindeer Falls.
I’m not talking about a few fancy window displays, or an extravagant light display. I’m not even talking about an especially large Christmas tree in the middle of the mall. That’s standard Christmas stuff. Amateur. Humdrum.
Cliché, even.
Holiday music on an endless loop? You can get that anywhere. A run-of-the-mill, D-list Santa Claus at the office party? Everyone knows you ordered the costume from Amazon and Jim from accounting drew the short straw.
Manufactured perfection. Fake.
But Reindeer Falls? Reindeer Falls is the real deal. It’s the most magical place on Earth. The spirit of Christmas is woven into the very heart of this town. It’s like the set of a Hallmark Christmas movie exists in the real world. Which—yeah, yeah—sounds manufactured.
But it’s not. It’s real, from the Bavarian architecture to its local toy shop to its undeniably cozy, sweet-smelling local bakery.
Ginger’s Bake Shop, to be exact.
Everything about Ginger’s Bake Shop is decorated for the holiday season. Pink Christmas trees with baking-themed ornaments. Twinkly white lights and garlands of pink and white swirled lollipops. There’s even a tree themed with nothing but tiny gingerbread houses. Another of nothing but pastry ornaments. Tiny glass cupcakes and glitter-dusted sugar cookies. Scones made of felted wool and miniature inedible gingerbread men.
The real ones are in the bakery case.
The gingerbread men, that is.
Outside, as if it were staged, a light snowfall rains down. People hurry past bundled up in their jackets. I watch a family walk by, their youngest clutching one of the town’s signature stuffed reindeers. It’s a bear wearing reindeer antlers, but it’s exclusive to the Flying Reindeer Toy Company, located in none other than Reindeer Falls. Of course. There’s a Teddy Bear Café where you can have tea with your Bavarian Reindeer, but it’s mostly for—
“Maggie? Earth to Maggie. Are you paying any attention?”
—for kids. Which is why we’re at Ginger’s Bake Shop.
I blink. Sometimes I get like this when it’s this close to Christmas. It’s hard for me to pay attention to anything that isn’t the magic surrounding me. Because I don’t want to miss a moment. I want to absorb every detail and tuck it away for a hot summer day when I’m counting down the days until pumpkin spice season, which everyone knows is just a fancy countdown to putting up the Christmas decorations.
Or maybe… maybe I’m trying to make up for lost time.
Well, not maybe. It is like I’m trying to make up for lost time. Maybe if you get to grow up in a place like this, you aren’t totally obsessed with Christmas. Maybe, if your memories of family Christmases are actually happy and filled with joy, you don’t feel the need to manifest a better version of Christmas for yourself.
Over the idea of it. The potential.
Then again, I’m sitting in a bakery so perfectly decorated for the holidays it looks like a movie set and it was opened by a girl who grew up here. From what I know about Ginger Winter, she’s plenty obsessed—and she did grow up here. Her parents were happy enough with Christmas to name all three of their daughters after the holiday. Noel, Holly and Ginger. I smile as I take a bite of my delightfully spiced gingersnap cookie.
“Sorry,” I apologize to Sutton, one of my best friends, who’s currently leveling me with a very annoyed expression. “Daydreaming.”
Sutton rolls her eyes. “Why am I not surprised?”
“Leave her be, Sutton,” my other best friend, Lexi, says, patting my hand. “You know how Maggie gets about Christmas.”
“What?” I ask, shrugging innocently. “You know guarding the spirit of Christmas is my job. I have to keep my eyes peeled for potential violations at all times.”
“There is no way ‘guarding the spirit of Christmas’ is actually written in your job description,” Sutton grumbles. “And we all know you’re not going to find a single violation of Christmas cheer in a bakery that is owned by a Winter girl. It looks like they covered Christmas with pink frosting in here.”
I frown in Sutton’s direction. She’s dangerously close to being in violation of Christmas. Not that I have any jurisdiction over people. I can’t write tickets to anyone for behaving like a Grinch, sadly, because my powers only extend to enforcing lighting and décor standards. And safety violations.
So Sutton can joke all she wants about the spirit of Christmas, but it’s important work. Besides, she literally operates a goat farm and I don’t make fun of her. Usually.
Anyway, my job as the town’s holiday enforcement officer is extremely important. Maybe I’m not an actual law enforcement officer, but I can write tickets and that’s practically the same thing. It’s my job to uphold the perfection of a Reindeer Falls Christmas. And in a place with “reindeer” in the title, that basically means I’m an essential worker in this town. I mean, does parking illegally really impact anyone’s Christmas season? No. But a business on Main Street with a strand of busted lights ruins the entire vibe.
