Page 7 of Falling Like Snow

“I don’t blame you,” Jake says. Fern lets out an amused chuckle, and although I can’t see the screen, I’m sure she’s rolling her eyes.

My hair fans across the table as I lay my head on it. We’ve been here twenty minutes and haven’t even begun brainstorming. To my left, Asher grabs my hand and squeezes.

“Guys, please,” he says to the group. “We have so much to do. Can we just… get on task?”

“We’re planning events for a winter festival,” Jake tells Fern. “Thought you might be able to help.”

“Oh! That’s fun. What do you have so far?” she asks. Jake props the phone against a steel napkin dispenser in the middle of the table so Ellis can fit in the frame too.

“Well, I remember hearing about a Snow Ball,” Ellis says.

“Yes, we do that every year, so that’s one event down,” I confirm. “We also always do a Christmas display contest—you know, award the house with the best outdoor lights and decorations. But it’s not really an event per se. And the annual tree-lighting ceremony happens every December first.”

“Bramble Falls is so stinkin’ cute,” Fern says. “Okay, what else?”

I bite my lip. “Nothing.”

“We’re just starting our brainstorming sesh, though,” Jake says, trying to be reassuring.

“All right… well…” Fern pauses, thinking. Then: “I recently reviewed a restaurant where they put Winter Wishes on note cards and hung them on the walls inside. I wonder if you guys could do something similar. Like, maybe buy a bunch of those clear ornaments, and everyone writes a Winter Wish on a little strip of paper and puts it inside the ornament. Then they can get crafty and decorate their bulb before hanging it on the tree for the official lighting.”

“Oh my god. That’s seriously adorable!” I practically squeal. “And it’d give people something to do besides just stand around drinking hot chocolate like we normally do.”

“I love it,” Ellis says, jotting the idea down in her notebook—color coordinated to match her pastel-pink sweater.

“Sort of piggybacking off the crafty comment,” Asher says, cracking his knuckles like he does when he’s working through something, “what if we did a holiday market one weekend? Bramble Falls residents could set up tents in the square and sell holiday crafts. I mean, think about all the pet stockings and green-and-red baby hats Mrs. Carver is always knitting. Or the little ceramic carolers the Gossip Girls paint.”

“Or the holiday porch signs my uncle makes,” Chloe adds.

“And I bet you could have your cute holiday puns printed on shirts, Sloane,” Asher suggests.

“Gah, that’d be so fun,” I say, actually excited by the idea.

“Yes. Everyone around town could sell their stuff,” Ellis says. “And local businesses can do themed decorations—like tools and mini flashlights could hang on the hardware store’s tree, and the Caffeinated Cat could hang coffee mug sleeves and Cooper’s baked goods—”

“And cats,” Slug says deadpan.

“Please shut up,” Ellis says.

Slug laughs. “I was only kidding, but since you asked so politely…” He pretends to pull a zipper across his lips.

“The whole event would attract people and bring in money while also making the town look more festive,” Ellis adds.

“We can talk to the Grants about getting some Christmas plants from the Bloom Box,” Preeti says. “We could drop them off at all the businesses and hang them around town.”

“Yes. Cover this place in poinsettias and holly. That’s a great idea,” I say, starting my own mental to-do list. “I’ll stop by their shop this week.”

“Maybe we could get some Christmas carolers to sing for a few hours in the gazebo,” Slug suggests.

“I’m obsessed with that idea!” Fern shouts through the speaker.

“I knew you could be useful,” Jake tells him. Slug rolls his eyes.

I look at Asher. “I bet the choir would get together for one of the events.”

He nods in agreement. “We did a holiday performance at the children’s hospital last year,” he tells the group, “so we could probably recycle that set with minimal rehearsal.”

“Perfect,” Hannah says. Ellis scribbles notes.