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The server appeared before Nicole could respond, and she ordered the day’s special, a three-cheese grilled cheese and pumpkin bisque. “How far along are you?” she asked as the server left, and Vanessa grimaced.

“Eight months. This last month is feeling like all eight of them in one, I swear. I’m so excited to be a mother, but I’m ready for the baby to just be here.”

“I remember that feeling,” Nicole said with a laugh. “It’ll be here before you know it, I promise.”

“Everyone keeps saying that.” Vanessa gave her a rueful smile. “But this week has felt like a month.” She glanced at Nicole’s laptop bag. “Did you bring along something to read for lunch? Don’t mind me, if so.”

“Oh… no. I was hoping to start job hunting this afternoon, actually.” She patted her laptop bag. “I figured I’d use the Wi-Fi here to search online.”

Vanessa laughed—kindly, but still clearly amused. “Oh, there’s no Wi-Fi here. Jackson’s pretty old-fashioned about technology in the restaurant—he thinks people should talk to each other while they eat. Besides, job hunting in Fir Tree Grove doesn’t really work the way it does in bigger places.”

Nicole felt her heart sink slightly. She’d been counting on internet access to research possibilities while she figured out her next steps. “What do you mean?”

“Most of the businesses here are small, family-owned operations,” Vanessa explained. “When they need help, they usually ask around the community for recommendations rather than posting online listings. Your best bet is just to keep your ears open, let people know you’re looking for work, and be ready to jump on opportunities when they present themselves.”

Nicole took a slow breath, trying to soak in the implications of that. On the one hand, it was nice to think that finding work here was more about connecting with people and genuinely liking who you worked with than someone in HR coldly looking through a resume. Although, she thought, connections only went so far—Leonard had liked her well enough, and look how that ended up.

It also meant though, that her hopes of finding a job instantly plummeted. She was a newcomer, and it sounded like there weren’t very many job openings; if something did open up, she was sure there would be plenty of people that had closer ties that would be considered first. All of her knowledge about job hunting, her references and her qualifications didn’t mean nearly as much here, and she felt like she was suddenly miles behind where she needed to be at a time when she really didn’t have that luxury.

After all, it seemed like Vanessa had gotten her job because it was her grandmother’s shop. That wasn’t very encouraging.

“What kind of background do you have?” Vanessa asked, seeming to sense Nicole’s concern. “There might be opportunities you haven’t thought of yet.”

“I spent fifteen years as an office manager at a design firm,” Nicole said. “Mostly administrative work, project coordination, client management. I did some of the mockups and handled organizing documents, that kind of thing. I’m good with details, organization, making sure everything runs smoothly.”

Vanessa’s eyes lit up with interest. “Those are exactly the kinds of skills that small businesses here need, especially during the busy holiday season. Half the shops on Main Street could probably use someone who knows how to organize systems and manage a workload. You just have to start conversations and let people get to know you.”

Nicole’s lunch arrived a moment later, and she breathed in the scent of rich pumpkin and melted cheese, her stomach rumbling. It smelled incredible, and she let out a sound of pleasure the moment she took a bite.

“This is delicious,” she said enthusiastically. “Jackson’s a wonderful cook.”

“He is,” Vanessa agreed with obvious pride. “He puts so much work into all of it. This place is his pride and joy. He’s been running it for years, and it’s pretty much a landmark spot at this point.”

They chatted for a few more minutes between bites, before Vanessa gathered her purse and got ready to leave. Nicole felt genuinely sorry to see their conversation end. “Thank you so much for letting me share your table,” she said. “This was exactly what I needed today.”

“My pleasure,” Vanessa said with a smile. “I hope you’ll stay in touch while you’re figuring things out. And Nicole? Don’t worry too much about having a perfect plan. Like I said, things have a way of working themselves out. They did for me when I stopped worrying about it quite so much. You’ll find what you’re meant to do here if it’s the place for you, I promise.”

As Vanessa made her way slowly toward the door, stopping to chat briefly with Jackson at the counter, Nicole sat alone in the booth and contemplated. No Wi-Fi for job hunting, no online job postings, no familiar system for connecting with potential employers. Instead, she’d have to make friends, talk to strangers, and focus on connecting with people here in hopes that it would open up opportunities that might not look like anything she’d previously considered.

She genuinely loved the town so far. She’d felt welcomed there at every turn since she’d arrived. But she couldn’t help but wonder what she’d gotten herself into. This was nothing like the professional landscape she was used to, and she didn’t want people to think she was making friends just to get something out of it… but she also couldn’t go too long without finding a job. She felt completely out of her depth.

It’s just the first day, she told herself. She had the month booked at the bed and breakfast regardless, so she needed to try to take Vanessa’s advice and just let go a bit. Maybe if she explored the town more, talked to some of the business owners, someone would have a lead for her. She just needed to relax a little, she told herself.

That was, she knew, much easier said than done.

CHAPTER SEVEN

As Tuesday turned out to be a particularly nice afternoon, warmer than it had been all week after a recent snowfall, Vanessa and Imogen decided to play hooky from work for a bit and go to do a little clothes and Christmas shopping. Vanessa walked slowly beside Imogen, both women cradling steaming cups of hot cocoa that Imogen had brought along from her shop, their breath puffing out in front of them in the crisp December air as they window-shopped their way down the street.

“Mabel thinks I need to stop walking around so much,” Vanessa said with a laugh as she touched her belly, well aware that she was moving at probably half of her usual pace. “But it’s so hard for me to sit still these days. And it’s never easy to find a comfortable position, ever. I feel like I’m inside someone else’s body.”

“I think we all felt that way when we were about where you are now,” Imogen said with a laugh. “For such a small baby, I felt huge when I was pregnant with Katie. The last month really is something else. But once she’s here you’ll forget all about it.”

“I can’t believe how busy everything is already,” Vanessa observed, pausing to admire the window display at the bakery. There were elaborate gingerbread houses in one window, styled like a rustic cabin, a traditional-style gingerbread house, and then a gothic mansion. In the other window was a series of tiered wedding cakes, one with poinsettias, another with tartan fondant in Christmas red and green, and another with tiny sugar snowflakes all over. “It feels like the whole town has been taken over by Christmas elves with unlimited decorating budgets.”

Imogen laughed brightly. “Henry deserves most of the credit for the outdoor displays,” she said, gesturing toward the twinkling lights that outlined every building and wrapped around every available tree or lamppost. “That man has turned holiday decorating into an art form. Katie keeps asking if we can hire him to make our house look like a fairy tale.”

“Jackson has been talking about what he wants to do to finalize the diner’s display this year with him. And of course I want to hire him to do our house again this year. Last year was so amazing. I think we had the best house on Maple Street.”