Rick must have spotted them, because he came outside. “Well,” he said, giving both women a nod, “I gotta say, this is the first time I’ve ever been called out for an intervention before the fire even starts.”
Anna grinned. “We’re overachievers. Hi, Rick.”
He held the door, and they followed him back inside, where the heat was still on full blast, but the kitchen was now dark and ominous. “You mind?” he asked, gesturing to the vinyl booth they’d vacated not ten minutes earlier.
Grace slid in, feeling a little like a student in the principal’s office. Anna, of course, looked as relaxed as if she’d just finished a lap around the lake.
Rick took the seat opposite and let out a world-weary sigh. “Grace Baker, right?” He stuck out his hand, and when Grace took it, she felt the roughness of his palm, scar tissue and a lifetime of hard labor. He shook once, then settled his forearms on the table.
“First,” he said, “thanks for the heads-up. I haven’t been in here for a few years, but I’m still not sure how that perfect storm of a fire situation got that bad without anyone noticing. But you… you saw it from a vision?”
Grace nodded. “I just—” She stopped, not sure how much to say. “I saw it, I guess. That it was going to happen.”
Rick raised his eyebrows, but he didn’t look surprised. “That’s the word around town. That you see things.”
Anna looked ready to leap to her defense, but Rick held up a hand. “No judgment. Not from me.” He exhaled slowly, glancing out the window at the mounting crowd. “You know, it’s been a long time since the Hollow had a psychic. Last one was old Mrs. Perillo, and she only used it to win at bingo. You’re the real deal, huh?”
Grace felt her cheeks heat. She almost denied it, but what would be the point? “I guess so,” she said.
He nodded, once. “Well, you just saved my life.” He said it matter-of-fact, like he was talking about changing a tire, but there was a gravity to it that stuck in Grace’s chest. “My guys, too. I appreciate that.”
Anna elbowed Grace under the table. “See? Heroic.”
Rick gave Anna a sidelong look. “And you, Anna, need to keep out of trouble. Tell your husband I’ll be dropping by the law office tomorrow about that parking situation.”
Anna rolled her eyes. “He said he was going to move the car. Eventually.”
Rick huffed out a laugh, then turned back to Grace. “Here’s what’s going to happen,” he said. “I’m going to have the owner shut this place down for a couple days. They’ll rewire the kitchen, replace the fixtures, and get it up to code. No harm, no foul, and no headlines in the Hollow Gazette.” He flicked his gaze to the window. “Most people will forget by Monday. But you? You keep doing what you’re doing.”
He tapped the table, once, then levered himself out of the booth with a grunt. “You ever see anything like this again, you call me direct.” He slipped a business card across the table. The name “Rick Dalton, Fire Chief” was printed in bold, no-nonsensefont, and under it, in slightly smaller letters: “Available 24/7 for Emergencies and Unusual Situations.”
He hesitated, then looked at Grace one more time. “It’s a good thing, you know. Having someone like you around. The town’s lucky.”
Then he was gone, striding back into the white swirl and the commotion outside. Anna watched him go with an amused little smile.
Grace stared at the card for a long moment, then tucked it into her purse. “Was that… normal?”
Anna shrugged. “Depends what you mean by normal. For the Hollow? That was practically boring.”
They left the pizzeria for good this time, crunching through the slush toward the main square. Anna insisted on stopping for hot drinks at a street cart, and Grace watched the ritual with fascination: Anna selected her own mug from the barista’s battered milk crate, a battered enamel one with faded dolphins, and the barista filled it without asking her order. “See, that’s the secret to small towns,” Anna said as she sipped. “They remember what you need.”
Grace tried to believe it, but old habits were slow to fade. She held her cup tight, savoring the warmth, and let Anna lead the way down the cobblestone path.
Holiday Hollow had gone all-in for the season. Window displays shone with string lights and mechanical Santas. Shop windows glowed with candles, the glass painted with scenes of sleds and ice-skating rabbits. There was a group of middle-schoolers in matching sweaters, singing Christmas carols off-key and shaking silver bells with reckless abandon. The square itself was dominated by the massive pine tree, draped in enough garland to choke a bear and capped with a star that flickered in and out, as if refusing to fully commit.
For a while, they just walked, Anna telling Grace tales that made her smile. Grace noticed how the town pulsed with energy, how people seemed to move in time with the music, how even the tourists fell under the spell of relentless cheer.
She found herself relaxing, even laughing at Anna’s running commentary about which shops were tourist traps and which ones had the best cinnamon rolls. By the time they’d circled the square and were halfway to Grace’s house, she realized she hadn’t thought about her ex, or her old life, or even her next vision, for almost an hour.
“So,” Anna said, breaking the silence as they turned onto Mistletoe Lane. “You feeling any better?”
Grace nodded. “I think so. It’s just… a lot. Every time I think I’m just a normal person settling into a new town, something happens.”
Anna stopped, boots sinking into a snowbank, and turned to face her. “You’re just different. That’s practically a job requirement here.”
Grace tried to smile, but it felt thin. “You make it look easy. Fitting in. Knowing where you belong.”
Anna’s eyes softened. “It wasn’t always. When I was a kid, I hated it. Couldn’t go a day without someone asking if I could talk to fish, or if my mom slept in the bathtub. But then I realized… nobody else in the world gets to be what we are. You’re the only one like you. Why waste it wishing to be something else?”
