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"That’s what I hear. Can’t wait to explore.”
"You’re in for a treat! If you need any recommendations, ask anyone. We'd all be more than happy to help."
Grace didn’t doubt that for a second. “Do you have any must-see spots or hidden gems that would make for a great story? I’ll be writing an article about my time here.”
"Of course!" the woman exclaimed, her eyes lighting up with pride. "But where to start? There's the annual Gingerbread Ball, but you’ll have to stay until Christmas Eve to enjoy that. Or there’s the tree lighting ceremony, or the skating rink that we have Holly to thank for. You’re staying at the Inn, right?”
“The Snow Hill Inn?”
“The one and only! And the only inn within a hundred miles worth staying at, between you and me.” The woman leaned close when she whispered that tidbit, making Grace laugh. Then she leaned back, sighing wistfully. “You know, Holly’s husband and his mother run it, so I’m sure you won’t run out of inspiration with a star like her around.”
“Can’t wait,” Grace replied, then waved goodbye after the woman listed the four grandchildren she needed to shop for and hurried away.
Grace had no idea who Holly was or what made her a star, but that was probably because she hadn’t done much research on the town before she’d arrived. Grace enjoyed diving headfirst into a new place, blissfully unaware and unprepared. Unlike many travel writers who did weeks of research before a trip, she liked the idea of going in blind, experiencing the magic like the average tourist would.
Of course, Pinterest may have the world believing that color-coded spreadsheets were necessary before every trip, but Grace knew better. Not everyone had the personality for that level of planning—Grace included—and her work catered to travelers like herself. The ones who didn’t have time for that kind of prep work, or didn’t like being boxed into a rigid plan with set times for excursions.
If this Holly person were famous in this small town, Grace would have to discover why all on her own.
She pulled her roller bag down the sidewalk, taking in the twinkling lights adorning every lamppost and storefront. The smiles she exchanged with each person she passed had her cheeks aching by the time she reached the first corner.
"Wow," she whispered to herself after yet another Snow Hill resident had spotted her suitcase and took the time to welcome her to town.
The spirit of Christmas was palpable, making her wonder if their version of the everyone-loves-it-here Kool-Aid came in the form of gingerbread lattes with whipped cream. She laughed to herself as her eyes were drawn to a small café nestled between two shops, knowing right away that she’d better grab a cup if she wanted the full experience.
As she pushed open the door, the warmth and chatter inside the cozy space enveloped her like a lush blanket. It immediately struck her as one of those hidden-in-plain-sight gems she'd been hoping to find—a place where the magic of Snow Hill could truly be felt, and was accessible to all.
Once she ordered her first taste of the town, Grace wheeled her bag to a cozy corner table by the window. It offered a prime view of the festive streetscape outside, and she settled into the cushioned seat, opening her laptop to take a few first-impression notes. But as soon as she began typing, her fingers flew across the keys as she got lost in capturing the essence of Snow Hill with the words on her screen.
"Another coffee for you, miss?" The waitress asked from behind the ornate mahogany counter.
"Please," Grace replied, surprised that she’d already finished her first cup of the shop’s signature holiday blend.
It was no wonder time had flown. If she could dream up the perfect setting to write in, this would be it. The café was alive with energy, bustling with locals and tourists alike. Conversations swirled around her like snowflakes on the wind, and Grace smiled at the snippets of stories that reached her ears.
Children eagerly discussing their Christmas wish lists. Friends reminiscing about holidays past. Couples discussing their dinner plans, clearly visiting from out of town for a romantic winter escape.
It was nothing like her life in New York. Not that she was there often, but still. No matter where she went in the name of her blog, she couldn’t help but compare her world to the one she was visiting. And this time… well, the comparison involved more than just the scenery. It was a strange feeling that she couldn’t quite name but felt deep in her bones.
"Isn't it a lovely place to be?" A woman seated at the next table remarked to Grace in a measured tone, catching her smile and mirroring it with a reserved one of her own.
"Absolutely," Grace agreed, glancing over to find the woman knitting a vibrant green scarf. And of course she was, because what else would a silver-haired woman do at a table alone in a place like this? "It feels like I've stepped into a Christmas card."
The woman’s eyes quietly sparkled as she gave Grace a knowing nod. "Watch out. Snow Hill has a way of making everyone feel at home during the holidays. If you’re not careful, you won’t want to leave."
Grace chuckled. “It sure seems like the goal around here. But I’m just a short-timer," she said, her heart tugging in a way she couldn’t explain.
This time, the woman’s gaze filled with mischief. "A short-timer, huh? Who knows? Maybe after a few days, you’ll turn into a lifer like me.”
“Tempting,” Grace said with a laugh, “but I’m not really the stay-in-one-place type.”
She never had been. Didn’t know how to be.
The woman glanced at Grace’s bag and snorted delicately. “Eh, you’ve only just arrived. Give it time, dear.”
Managing not to choke on her coffee as she sipped it from the steaming mug that warmed her hands, Grace grinned and shook her head. “That almost sounds like a threat.”
“Causing trouble, Ida?” A deep voice asked before the woman—Ida, apparently—could respond. “Those knitting needles count as a deadly weapon in your hands, ya know.”
