Anna leaned in closer. “Do you want to sit for a bit? There’s a bench near the statue.”
Grace nodded, and Anna guided her through the throng. The bench was cold, but Anna sat close enough that their coats touched, and she left Grace alone with her thoughts for a moment.
Grace sipped the cider. The sugar and heat burned her tongue, but it felt right—painful, but grounding. She let her eyes drift over the crowd. She spotted Caroline in animated conversation with the guy selling roasted chestnuts, her hands flying as she explained something. Olivia had moved closer to the stage, her posture rigid and alert. Even in a crowd of hundreds, their group moved like orbiting satellites, never too far, never too disconnected.
For a while, Grace let herself believe this was all there was. She let her head fall back and watched the canopy of lights over the square. The sky beyond was so clear, stars snapped into place like pushpins on black velvet. She could almost convince herself that nothing bad would happen tonight.
But when she looked at her cup, she saw the faintest ripple in the liquid. Her hand still trembled, just enough to betray the calm on her face.
Anna must have noticed, because she said, “You don’t have to be strong for us. We know you’re scared.”
“I don’t want to ruin it for everyone else,” Grace said.
Anna’s laugh was short, almost brittle. “If anyone here can handle a little fear, it’s us. Besides, it wouldn’t be Christmas in Holiday Hollow without a little drama.”
Grace laughed, and the sound surprised her, light, genuine, uncoiling some of the tension. She reached for Anna’s hand, and Anna squeezed back, strong and sure.
They watched the stage together as the band started a tentative rendition of “Silent Night.” Children gathered in front, waving glow sticks. Parents clapped along, off-beat but enthusiastic.
Grace let herself relax, just a little. She knew the danger wasn’t gone, but for a moment, she felt like she belonged here: among friends, with cider and cookies, and the safety of the crowd holding her together.
She looked at the stage again. Nothing had changed, but she couldn’t help herself. Her eyes kept flicking back, scanning for anything out of place.
The fear was still there, a shiver under the skin.
The closer it got to six o’clock, the tighter the crowd pressed against the edges of the square. Grace’s optimism, brittle at the best of times, had been ground down to a nervous tic. Her smile was as thin as her gloves, her fingers drumming the cider cup like it was the only thing holding her upright.
They’d left the bench when the first notes of the sound check shivered through the air. Grace winced as the speakers popped, then shrieked, before settling into a low hum. “It’s just the cold,” Anna whispered, linking arms with her. But Grace couldn’t stop cataloguing every possible disaster, each puddle beneath a vendor’s tent, every exposed cable, the glimmer of water collecting on the lip of a roof overhead.
She tried to tell herself she was being ridiculous. Hundreds of people and only one of them expecting doom. But the dread was back, stronger than before.
Bryant appeared at her elbow, his uniform crisp. “They’re ready to start the lineup,” he said. His voice was level, but he kept glancing at her, as if waiting for her to break. “You okay?”
Grace nodded, but she didn’t trust herself to speak. Bryant hovered for a second longer, then, with a nervous glance around, put his arm over her shoulders. It was stiff, awkward, but the weight of it pressed her back into the here and now.
“We’ve got eyes everywhere,” he murmured, low enough for her alone. He angled his head at the stage, where two officers loitered on either side of the steps. “Nobody gets close without me knowing.”
She wanted to believe him, but fear was a living thing in her chest, scratching at her ribs.
Olivia drifted over, her movements precise. She took Grace’s elbow on the opposite side, so that Bryant and Anna bracketed her like human bookends. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” Olivia said, voice dry as ever, “but you look like you’re about to faint.”
Grace tried to smile. “I’ll be fine. Just…too much adrenaline.”
Caroline found them a second later. “Relax, Gracie,” she said, voice booming over the noise. “If there’s a killer in this crowd, they’re probably as nervous as you are.”
Anna glared at her, but Caroline just winked. Grace exhaled, forcing her shoulders to relax.
The mayor appeared at the foot of the stage, surrounded by a ring of town councilors and the Chamber’s rep, Martha Lane, her arm in a bright blue cast. Even the children’s choir was lined up, a dozen tiny singers in matching hats, all bouncing in place to keep warm.
The master of ceremonies, a former weatherman in a suit that shimmered faintly under the spotlights, stepped up to the microphone. He tapped it twice, and the speakers crackled, sharp enough to make Grace jump.
“Sorry, folks!” He beamed, not sorry at all. “Welcome to Holiday Hollow’s thirty-ninth annual Christmas Tree Lighting!”
The crowd roared, a wave of sound that made Grace’s head swim.
Bryant’s arm tightened for a second, grounding her.
She watched water bead along the edge of the stage steps, melting slowly in the heat from the spotlights, but it wasn’t much. Not like what she’s seen. She tried to imagine how she would react if the vision came true, if the shockwave of electricity hit the stage full of water and killed the people there. Would she run? Scream? Would she freeze, like she always did, until someone else stepped in to save the day?
