Chapter 15
Willow
Ibegin the next morning enveloped in a profound sense of fullness. It’s a warmth that radiates through my limbs and settles deep in my core. It illuminates every corner of my being, even though I hesitate to name it love, at least not aloud. But the way I feel is real and the tenderness growing inside me is perilously close to that very emotion.
Last night's dinner lingers in my memory as a cocoon of quiet intimacy. The key, now resting on my bedside table with its red ribbon coiled around it, is like a cherished secret.
As I step into the bakery before work, drawn by the irresistible pull of a cinnamon roll, Willa's eyes widen with instant recognition. Her voice transforms into a sing-song sweetness as she declares, "Someone had a good night."
I feign innocence with a casual reply about sleeping well, only for her to counter with a knowing grin.
By the time I arrive at City Hall, Avery is already stationed at her desk, clutching her coffee mug as if bracing for some impending storm, and the moment she spots me, a tiny, strangled shriek escapes her lips, followed by an exuberant proclamation that "Oh, My God. Who did this?" This leaves me blinking in confusion as I ask what she means.
She thrusts her phone toward me and explains about the late-night delivery to Santa's sleigh staging area at the volunteer area outside town. I scroll through the photos on her phone. There are boxes upon boxes of toys, crafts, dolls, and everything imaginable. It’s enough to ensure every child in Hope Peak receives a gift this year. The message says the toys are from a mystery donor.
My heart stutters to a halt as she takes back her phone, her eyes glittering with excitement while she scrolls through details of old-fashioned wooden trains, fuzzy animals, and little maker kits. My fingers tighten around my bag strap. I find myself inhaling slowly, cautioning against assumptions. But a part of me knows it might be Graham.
When Avery tilts her head and asks if I know anything about it, I respond softly and honestly that I don't, though I suspect who might, and she mouths "Sinclair" like a secret incantation just as Spencer strolls in, glancing between us with curiosity before
Avery blurts out the news of the Christmas miracle at the sleigh barn. “So many toys, with no one claiming credit.”
Spencer claims that it wasn't a miracle but simply someone stepping up. But he pauses briefly before lifting an eyebrow in my direction, which warms my cheeks. I turn, diving into vendor checklists, updates, and highlighted notes.
Yet throughout the morning, every passerby at the front desk carries the same whispers drifting through the air. "Did you hear about the toys? Someone must’ve donated thousands.No note? Who does that? Was it the resort guy? A fundraiser? Maybe someone just wanted kids to have a good Christmas."
Meanwhile, no one actually utters Graham's name, not out of ignorance. It’s simply that this small town guards generosity like fragile ornaments, avoiding any jinx that might shatter the magic. And I find myself feeling the same way about Graham … about the key.
By lunch, the glow within me has deepened into something softer and more certain. If Graham did purchase all those toys, he didn't orchestrate this for attention or to gain the town’s approval of his project. He didn’t confide in me or anyone else. He simply observed a need and filled it quietly, without fanfare.
Around mid-afternoon, Avery pops her head into my office, her eyes still bright with the day's gossip as she informs me that the toy donation is the sole topic buzzing through town, with odds pegged at ninety-eight percent that it's "your man" behind it. This prompts me to arch a brow at the phrase "my man," only for her to purr that oh, he is definitely mine. This draws a laugh from me as I roll my eyes. But deep down, her words plant a seed I'm content to nurture.
I don't voice it aloud, but I feel the truth of it resonating within me. As I leave City Hall for the day, the wind picks up, sweeping snow from the rooftops in soft, glittering waves that transform the world into a cold, bright, and shimmering expanse, and for the first time in what feels like an eternity, I find myself shimmering along with it.
Chapter 16
Graham
Iwake up earlier than normal, not because of the usual stresses or investor calls or the twelve new messages surely waiting on my phone. I’m sleeping less due to genuine excitement that I feel to my core. It feels like hope and peace intertwined, all laced with the essence of Willow herself. Her scent clings to my shirt like a whispered promise. Her laugh echoes in my mind.
I shower under the steaming cascade that washes away the night's remnants, shave with deliberate strokes that mirror my newfound clarity, and dress in layers that brace against the chill.
I head to Snowy Summit’s lounge for coffee, nodding at Carla as I pass, and she greets me with a knowing smile, remarking that I seem unusually chipper today. I give her a casual response, only for her to insist that I've never looked more so during my stay here. This actually makes me laugh and I attribute it to the weather. But her raised eyebrow conveys a silent disbelief. Thankfully, she’s discrete. I’m sure she’s seenWillow and I together. Carla is a woman who values the sanctity of secrets.
I take my coffee and settle near the window overlooking the slopes, attempting to focus on the revised site plan spread before me, yet my thoughts drift inexorably to the gift I gave Willow. I loved watching her expressions as her fingers brushed the key.
Willow has transcended being merely an obstacle or a town official standing in the path of my project. Instead, she has become my compass, the missing piece that brings coherence to all of this. She’s the one who makes the chaos of ambition feel purposeful and grounded.
Stepping outside into a snowy morning that feels brighter than the one before, the world itself is signaling a new beginning. I want that to be with Willow’s light in it.
♥♥♥
By late morning, I'm walking through town, checking in with Peak Construction, touching base with Holden, and ensuring Atlanta understands that nothing proceeds without mine and Willow’s sign-off.
I hang up the call with Atlanta and notice an older couple strolling past. They offer a warm, familiar nod laced with appreciation, which strikes me as strange. I continue, another person -- a woman I recognize from the Bakehouse smiles at me with the soft, approving expression typically reserved for firefighters, teachers, or men who rescue abandoned kittens from storm drains.
When I jog up the steps to City Hall to drop off permitting documents, the postmaster is just leaving. He stops to look at me, declaring that it was a mighty fine thing I did. This makes me pause and I ask what thing he means. He chuckles, patsmy shoulder, and commends my modesty. He says he’ll keep it under wraps, walking away and leaving me bewildered.
Inside, Avery greets me with a grin that's entirely too bright, wishing me the best week ahead. I retort by asking why everyone in this town is suddenly hallucinating about me, only for her to hum secretively that people talk. When I press about what exactly, she smiles too sweetly, murmuring, “Oh, nothing, just that Hope Peak appreciates generosity.”
