“We have the ranch now,” Faith offered, coming to her community’s defense. “Josephine Major’s place. It’s up and running as a B&B.”
“I heard rumors about that. Wasn’t sure if it was true.”
“A simple internet search would have given you your answers.” She leveled a teasing grin at her lifelong friend. “Aren’t you supposed to be a journalist? Isn’t that your literal job?”
“Hey, who’s side are you on?” Anthony rallied back, his tense posture relaxing slightly as the conversation carried on.
“I don’t pick sides. I can love both you and our humble little town.” Even if they were at odds with one another. “So, are you going to tell me what you’re writing about this time?” Faith asked, too curious to let it go. “Or do I need to wait until it’s headline news?”
Anthony chuckled. “I’ll give you the inside scoop, but only because you’re my best friend. I’m here to write about the Sweetheart Soiree.”
Faith’s drink caught in her throat, a cough sputtering through her lips. “You are not.”
“I am.”
“Why would your readers care about a small-town tradition like that?” Yes, it was a big event by Snowdrift Summit’s standards, but Faith assumed interest would be limited to locals.
“Haven’t you watched any of those Christmas countdown movies? All the same small-town plot—even the same actors in many of them—but viewers eat them up. Same with real, local events like the soiree. People like the idea of quaint traditions, even if they’ve never experienced them.”
“And there aren’t soirees in Sacramento?”
“There are, but I’m officially up for the title of Sierra Nevada’s newest correspondent for The Golden State Gazette, so my pieces will be limited to this region from now on.”
Faith wasn’t sure what to make of it. Anthony McCullen had been her childhood best friend and next-door neighbor growing up. For years, they were in the same home school group, so they naturally bonded and often studied together, tackling school projects and assignments. But while she’d stayedin Snowdrift after high school, Anthony attended Sacramento State University, earning his degree in journalism, along with an internship with the capitol’s prestigious newspaper that quickly turned into a full-time position.
Everyone had been so proud of him at the time. It wasn’t every day that a kid from Snowdrift became a journalist with the power to influence with pen and paper.
While they didn’t receive the physical newspaper up in Snowdrift, every time one of Anthony’s pieces was published on the internet, a celebration was in store. Businesses would print out his articles and place them in their windows, praising the local writer for his success and achievements.
Bitter Cold even had a drink name after him, the McCullen Mocha. That was discontinued promptly when he chose to “throw Snowdrift under the bus,” as many angrily deemed it. There were hurt feelings and resentment, and Faith forever felt torn between cheering on her dearest friend and sympathizing with her community.
“Are you relocating to Snowdrift?” she asked, his words sinking in. While she would love to have Anthony around again, she was well aware she was in the minority when it came to that particular sentiment.
“Planning to if I get the position. Which is why the soiree piece is an important one.”
“You do realize you’re going to need to re-earn the trust of the community again, right?” she pointed out.
“Something I was hoping you might be able to help with.”
Faith sighed. “I’m just a baker, Anthony. I don’t have that much influence.”
“Of course, you do. Everyone loves you, Faith. Heck, just being seen with you here today helps boost my image.”
She hated herself for wondering if being seen with the likes of Anthony was doing the exact opposite to her own reputation.She wasn’t blind to the stares, the gawking, the whispered words that hummed around them while she pretended to carry on without a care.
“I’m happy to help however I can.” Setting her drink onto the table, she placed her hands around her friend’s and gave them a comforting squeeze. “I’m not entirely surehowI can help beyond squashing rumors and silencing critics, but I’ll do my best.”
“One more thing.” Anthony’s light eyes tightened to a squint. He hissed out a breath, preparing for the big ask. “I could use a place to stay.”
Oh. She hadn’t been expecting that but supposed she should have seen it coming. Anthony’s family moved away from Snowdrift just last year when his parents decided Florida was a better—and sunnier—location to spend their retirement years.
Faith tried not to be obvious when her attention shifted to Mitch, who was currently concluding his conversation with Trinity. And when Mitch circled back to his table and took a seat, this time facing the door instead of away from it, a rush of panic washed over her when their eyes locked. A silent question passed between them; an inquiry intowhoit was Faith was talking to on Mitch’s end, andwhatMitch and Trinity were discussing from Faith’s perspective.
Questions neither were obligated to answer.
“Do you think I could crash with you for a few days?” Anthony asked again, pulling Faith back to the here and now. “All I need is a couch and good internet connection.”
“Yeah.” She discretely glanced toward Mitch, but he had his phone in his hand, swiping across the screen.Probably committing Trinity’s number to memory, Faith mused, even though she sincerely doubted that was what he was actually doing. Her crazy thoughts were running away from her at lightning speed. “Yeah, that should be fine.”
