“You should,” Logan says earnestly. “I bet it would be incredible.”
His words send a warm glow through me.
“What about you?” Marcus asks Logan. “What are your favorite Christmas memories?”
Logan’s expression softens, a faraway look in his eyes. “Christmas was always a big deal in my family,” he says, his voice warm with nostalgia. “My mom would go all out with the decorations, and my dad... he played Santa for the neighborhood kids.”
“That sounds wonderful,” I say, picturing a young Logan.
“It was,” Logan agrees. Then, his voice grows quieter. “The Christmas after my dad passed away... that was tough. I was sixteen, and suddenly, I felt like I had to be the man of the house, you know? Take care of my mom and my sisters.”
I feel a pang in my chest at the vulnerability in his voice. Everyone slowed down to listen.
Logan nods, his hands stilling on the branch he’d been adjusting. “It was. But you know what? That Christmas, the whole neighborhood came together to support us. People brought food, helped with decorations... One of the other dads even stepped in to play Santa that year.”
As Logan shares more stories from his past Christmases, I find myself seeing beyond his confident exterior. I begin to understand why he’s so eager to help others and serve Benton Falls. They were there for him in his hour of need. What would it be like to live in a place like this? To set roots down and raise a family here? The prospect is intriguing.
The hours slip by unnoticed as we work and talk, sharing stories and laughter. The tension from earlier in the day has completely dissipated, replaced by a warm camaraderie that feels both surprising and somehow inevitable. The other contestants head out around dinner time to be with their families. I’m content and creating, and the time slips by.
“I can’t believe how late it is,” I say, glancing at my watch in disbelief. “We’ve been talking for hours.”
“Hey, it’s snowing,” Logan exclaims.
I glance out the window and see that he is right. Not only is it snowing, it’s snowing hard, and the wind howls. “That looks scary.”
Thirteen
BAILEY
Imake my way to the window, and suddenly, the room plunges into darkness.
I freeze. I don’t want to trip. I put my hand out in front of me, and I can’t see it.
“Stay calm,” Logan’s steady voice cuts through the darkness. “It’s probably just a blown fuse or a power outage from the storm.” I believe him. He’s a firefighter, after all, and there’s no reason to panic.
As my eyes slowly adjust to the dim light filtering in from the windows, I can make out Logan’s silhouette moving towards me. “Are you okay?” he asks, his voice low and concerned.
“I’m fine,” I reply, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice. It’s not like I’m scared of the dark or anything. I don’t know why I feel so vulnerable right now. “Just a bit startled.”
Logan’s hand finds mine in the darkness, warm and reassuring. I grab onto it and hold tight, my shaking stopping immediately. “Let’s head to the lobby,” he suggests. “They’ll probably have more information there.” He turns on his phone’s flashlight, and we make our way through the ballroom. The polished oak floor creaks softly under our feet, and I can hear the wind howling outside.
As we enter the lobby, we’re greeted by the flickering light of emergency lamps and the concerned faces of the inn’s staff. Guests stream out of the stairwell and mill around, waiting for instructions. Logan goes to release my hand, but I grab onto his arm and hold him in place. He studies my eyes and must have seen my fear. I’m doing my best to tamp it down. I’ve never been in a situation like this before, and I don’t know what to do. He adjusts his grip and weaves through the crowd to get to where we can hear what’s going on.
The manager, a portly man with a receding hairline, raises his hands to get our attention. Everyone quiets down. “Ladies and gentlemen, I apologize for the inconvenience. It appears the storm has knocked out power to most of the town. We’re working on getting our backup generator online, but for now, I’m afraid we’ll have to ask everyone to remain in the inn. It’s not safe to venture out in this weather.”
A chorus of groans and worried murmurs ripples through the crowd. I feel a knot of anxiety tightening in my stomach. The thought of being trapped here with all these people is unsettling. Another thought grabs at me—Logan is a firefighter. He could be called out at any moment, and I’d be alone. My grip on his hand tightens.
Logan squeezes my hand gently in return. He looks around and finds a corner with a sofa and only a few people. Taking us both there, he says, “I need to check in with the fire chief. Will you be okay for a minute?”
I nod, reluctantly letting go of his hand and settling onto the couch, my arms wrapped around me. I should scroll through my inspiration boards to take my mind off things, but I want to conserve my battery. Who knows how long the power will be out? As Logan steps away to make his call, I overhear some of the staff discussing emergency supplies. They have enough food for several days—which is a relief, though I hope we’re not stuck here that long.
The more I listen to the conversations around me, the more I understand that we will be spending the night.
An idea forms in my mind, and I approach one of the housekeepers.
“Excuse me,” I say, my voice softer than usual. “Do you have any rooms available?”
She looks at me for a moment as if she’s trying to place me.
