Ivy’s face flushed with anger, and for a moment, Celeste thought she might shout. Instead, Ivy’s expression shifted into something harder, more determined. “Well, not this time,” she said quietly but resolute. “I’m not selling. And I don’t carewhoyou are or what you think you’re offering. This bakery isn’t going anywhere.”
For the first time, Celeste felt a flicker of something unexpected—an unfamiliar sense of resistance. Most people gave up by now, intimidated by her reputation or by the promise of a deal dangled in front of them. But not Ivy. The young woman stood her ground, her chin lifted defiantly, her eyes blazing with something Celeste hadn’t seen in a long time: genuine conviction.
For a brief moment, Celeste hesitated. Then she squared her shoulders, her expression hardening once more. “We’ll see,” she said coldly, turning on her heel and leaving the bakery without another word.
Outside, the wind bit at her cheeks, sharp and unforgiving, but it was nothing compared to the sudden heat in her chest. She couldn’t quite place it—a strange combination of irritation and…intrigue. Ivy Greenwood was going to be more trouble than she had anticipated.
2
IVY
Ivy slammed the bakery’s front door a little harder than necessary, flipping the sign to “closed” before leaning against the counter. Her hands trembled as she pressed them flat against the wood, trying to ground herself.
Celeste Winters. The Ice Queen.
She’d heard the nickname tossed around in business circles and the rumors that floated around, but she never expected to meet her in person—let alone have her standing in her bakery, threatening to take everything Ivy and her family had worked so hard for. She could still feel the chill of Celeste’s gaze, like a blade carving through her.
“Mommy?” Ellie’s soft voice drifted from the kitchen, snapping Ivy out of her thoughts. The little girl padded into the room, her auburn curls bouncing. “Why are you mad?”
Ivy forced a smile for her daughter’s sake and knelt down, pulling Ellie into a warm embrace. “I’m not mad, sweetheart. Just a little frustrated, that’s all.”
Ellie’s brow furrowed as she studied her mother. “Is it because of the lady in the fancy coat? She looked mean.”
Ivy laughed softly, ruffling her daughter’s hair. “She wasn’t mean, just…different.”
Yeah, different,Ivy thought.Different, as in ruthless and completely out of touch with what this bakery means to the community.
Ivy tried to push away the frustration that bubbled up again, but it lingered, heavy and oppressive. She couldn’t dwell on it, though. There was dough to knead and sugar cookies waiting to be rolled out for tomorrow’s rush. Baking had always calmed her nerves, and tonight, she needed the steady rhythm of it more than ever.
As the winter storm outside grew fierce, Ivy moved around the kitchen, flour dusting her fingers and the tips of her curls. But even as she lost herself in the familiar comfort of the baking process, Celeste’s sharp words lingered.
That woman was going to tear her world apart, and Ivy had no idea how to stop her.
The snow storm arrived faster than anyone had anticipated. By the time Ivy looked up from decorating the last batch of cookies, the world outside her window had turned into a swirling vortex.
She wiped her hands on her apron and checked the radio for updates.
“Major snow accumulation,” the weather reporter said. “Looks like the roads will be impassable by nightfall.”
Ivy chewed her lip. The storm wasn’t just bad news for the bakery; it was bad news foreveryone.Small towns like this one didn’t handle heavy snow well. People would be estranged, and the holiday festivities would likely be canceled.
“Mommy, it’s snowing so much!” Ellie exclaimed, pressing her nose against the window. “Do you think Santa can still find us?”
Ivy smiled, setting a plate of warm cookies on the table. “I’m sure Santa’s got special snow boots. He’ll be just fine.”
But even as she reassured Ellie, a sense of unease crept over her. The storm was worse than she’d expected. She glanced at her phone, scrolling through messages from neighbors and friends checking in with each other.
And then one caught her eye.
“Celeste Winters is stuck in town. No rooms left at the inn. You think you could take her in?”
Ivy groaned, reading the message from her neighbor, Mrs. Fischer. The last thing she needed was to offer a room to the woman who was threatening to bulldoze her bakery. But she wasn't the kind of person who left others out in the cold—literally or figuratively.
With a sigh, she responded to Mrs. Fischer, agreeing to let Celeste stay in her guest house. At least it was separate from the main house, and Ivy could avoid her as much as possible.
Later that evening, after Ellie had been tucked into bed, Ivy paced by the front window, waiting for Celeste to show up. She’d barely finished tidying the guest house when headlights appeared at the end of her driveway.
A sleek black car—completely out of place in this snow storm—crept up the drive. Celeste stepped out, looking utterly unfazed by the weather, though her breath fogged in the cold air. Ivy pulled the door open, letting a rush of wind and snow swirl inside.
