Now, Celeste found herself standing awkwardly at the edge of the festivities, watching as townspeople milled around, their faces glowing with joy and holiday spirit. Booths lined the square, vendors selling everything from hand-knitted scarves to homemade fudge, and in the center stood a massive, regal Christmas tree, its branches heavy with ornaments, tinsel, and twinkling lights.
Ellie pulled Ivy toward a booth where children were decorating gingerbread houses, their tiny fingers dusted with sugar and icing. Ivy laughed as Ellie excitedly picked out her assorted candy decorations, her enthusiasm infectious. Celeste stood off on the sidelines, her arms crossed, feeling every bit the outsider.
“Come on, Ms. Winters! You’vegotto try this!” Ellie called out, holding up a candy cane. Her wide eyes sparkled with the same brightness as the shimmering lights around them.
Celeste forced an unconvincing smile. “I think I’ll pass.”
Ivy shot her a look—one that was equal parts understanding and exasperation. “You can’t just stand there all day. Why don’t you help us with the gingerbread house?” Her face made it clear it wasn’t really a question.
Celeste hesitated. The last thing she wanted was to get her hands sticky with icing and gumdrops, but the way Ellie beamed at her made it hard to refuse. With a sigh, she stepped forward, picking up a piece of candy and placing it awkwardly on the roof of the gingerbread house.
“There,” Celeste said, stepping back, as if that single gesture absolved her from any future participation.
“Nice work,” Ivy teased, laughing lightly. “You’re a natural.”
“Hardly,” Celeste muttered as she wiped her fingers on a napkin.
But despite herself, she found her gaze drifting back to Ivy. The woman had a way of moving through her world that was both effortless and deeply grounded, like she belonged in every moment, in every interaction. It was unsettling to Celeste, whose entire life had been about control, precision, and keeping people at arm’s length.
Later that afternoon, the three of them walked around the market. The festive atmosphere was inescapable, but even Celeste couldn’t deny the charm of it all. The air was crisp, and the scent of pine and wood smoke mingled with the sweetness of hot cocoa. Ellie darted ahead, chasing after a small group of children who were throwing snowballs near the skating rink.
“She’s got a lot of energy,” Celeste said, watching Ellie with a mixture of amusement and envy.
“She does, even for a six year old,” Ivy agreed. “Especially during the holidays. It’s been a little overwhelming this year, but I try to make it special for her.”
Celeste nodded, unsure of what to say. Family wasn’t a topic she ventured into often, and the holiday season had always felt more like a disruption to her schedule than anything else.
As they continued walking, Ivy stopped at a booth selling Christmas ornaments. She picked up a delicate glass star, turning it over in her hands. “I get one of these every year,” she said softly. “It’s a little tradition Ellie and I have. This year’s star will be for you.”
Celeste blinked, caught off guard. “For me?”
Ivy smiled, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “A reminder of your time here in Hollyridge. Whether you like it or not.”
Celeste found herself at a loss for words. The gesture was simple, but something about it left her feeling exposed, vulnerable in a way she hadn’t been in years.
Before she could respond, Ellie came bounding back, breathless and red-cheeked from the cold. “Can we go ice skating, Mommy? Please?”
Ivy glanced at Celeste, her eyebrows raised. “What do you think? Up for a little skating?”
“I haven’t been on ice skates since I was a child,” Celeste admitted. “And I wasn’t particularly good at it then.”
“Well, there’s no time like the present,” Ivy said, grinning.
Against her better judgment, Celeste found herself agreeing and getting dragged toward the outdoor rink. As they laced up their skates and stepped onto the ice, she wobbled awkwardly, clutching the railing for balance. Ellie, on the other hand, glided effortlessly, giggling as she twirled and spun.
Ivy skated beside Celeste, offering her hand. “Relax. You’ll get the hang of it.”
Celeste hesitated, but eventually took Ivy’s hand. As they moved slowly across the ice, the chill of the air biting at her cheeks, she felt something shift inside her. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but for the first time in as long as she could remember, Celeste felt…at ease.
After several tentative laps, Ivy suggested they take a break. They found a bench near the rink, and Ellie, still bursting with energy, went off to join a group of kids building a snowman.
Celeste’s heart raced as she caught her breath, feeling a lightness she hadn’t expected. “I’m surprised I didn’t fall more,” she said, trying to mask her vulnerability.
Ivy chuckled softly, her eyes sparkling. “You did great. I’m proud of you for trying.”
Celeste felt heat rise to her cheeks. “It’s just skating,” she murmured, brushing it off.
But Ivy’s gaze was steady, and Celeste could sense an unspoken connection between them, something electric. Just as she was about to look away, their hands brushed again, this timelingering. The warmth radiating from Ivy’s touch sent a shiver down Celeste’s spine, and in that moment, everything shifted.
