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“Don’t worry, Griff,” Micah assures him. “He’ll have them separately.”
That seems to relieve Griff. “I’ll set up an account for you,” he tells me. “When you’re ready, just tell the cashier to put it on your account.” He pats my shoulder and walks away before I can ask if he needs my credit card or anything.
“That’s very trusting of him,” I say quietly to Micah as we leave.
He shrugs. “It’s not like you can leave town in the dead of night. Besides, he knows that if you tried to skip out without paying, I’d cover it. Or Grandmother would.”
I frown. That’s not right. “You’re not responsible for my debts. I can pay my own way.”
Micah smiles at me and hooks his arm through mine. “Great. Pay for your groceries before you leave town, and there won’t be a problem.”
That sounds logical and reasonable, but I still don’t like that the town apparently considers Micah my guarantor. I’ve been supporting myself for over a hundred years, and from what I’ve heard, the village council already expects his time for free. It’s not right that they should expect his money too.
I’m still stewing over that when Micah leads me into the pub. It’s charming—all exposed beams and warm brass fixtures. One wall is all glass doors leading out onto a terrace, though they’re closed today against the cold. A giant fireplace dominates the back wall, and I can feel the warmth of the fire from here.
I turn to Micah. “Can we come back here tonight? For dinner, maybe? They do dinner, right?”
“We do,” the man behind the bar calls, even as he pulls beer from a tap for a waiting patron. “Micah, is this the puzzle man?”
Micah introduces me to Arne, the publican, and also to three other people currently at the bar. Arne tells us the special tonight is Älplermagronen and promises to hold a table for us for dinner. I don’t know what that is, but from the way Micah smiles, I’ll probably like it.
Next we head toward the snow village. (I did walk into a chair in the pub while Micah was saying goodbye, but neither I nor the chair are hurt.)
“Tell me again what this snow village is,” I prompt as we stroll.
“Exactly what it sounds like,” he replies. “We’ve told you about Zoe?”
“The sorcerer who moved up here to help clear the snow?” I’m pretty sure that’s what they said.
“Yes. We have a snowplow too, but Zoe’s expertise is essential. It was her idea to not just dump the snow in huge drifts around the village. Instead, she uses it to make more family-friendly outdoor winter spaces. Like there.” He points to a park. There are some trees, but most of the space is taken up by a pond.
“The skating pond?” There are plenty of people zipping over the ice like it’s normal to strap knives to your feet and then balance on them. Not that I’ve ever achieved that level of balance.
“That’s not a pond. It’s firmly compacted snow, plus a little water, plus Zoe’s sorcery skill. That turned it into a thick sheet of ice safe for skating on.”
My mouth forms an O. “Impressive. Is she looking for a bestie who thinks ice puzzles would be the coolest thing ever?”
He tugs me along. “Wait until you see the snow village.”
We reach the edge of the village, where the road kind of peters out into a path that isn’t plowed. Ahead, I can see fir trees, enough of them that I’d refer to that area as “the woods.” Micah points. “In summer, you can follow that path up above the tree line. The cave is up there.”
“My cave?” I squint in that direction. I can’t even see above the tree line—the clouds are too low. I know there’s a peak over there, because I’ve seen it before, but not today.
“Yours?” He leans down to kiss my cheek. “Don’t let Grandmother hear you say that.”
Before I can argue that it reallyismy cave—for a little while, at least—we round a corner, and I gasp.
Because dead ahead is the cutest damn snow village I’ve ever seen in my life.
The buildings are all kid-sized, and I’m guessing only one room inside, but the detail is amazing. There are roads, lampposts, mailboxes, and houses, with windowsills and imitation-slate-tiled roofs. Small snow people are even loitering on street corners, and one is leaning out an upstairs window. Village kids are running around the whole area, going in and out of buildings and pretending to play shopkeeper and a dozen other things.
“Pretty special, yes?” Micah asks. I can feel his gaze on me, but I can’t look away from the snow village. Everywhere my eyes land, there’s something new to see.
“Zoe’s a genius.”
“Did I hear my name?”
I turn—reluctantly—to see a tall blonde woman walking toward us. She’s dressed for the weather but somehow looks like she should be on a catwalk. And even with the muffler wrapped around her neck and covering her lower face, I can tell she’s smiling.
