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Kit looked up. “Emily’s hot new sex life.”

“Excellent,” Edith said, without missing a beat. “Fill me in.”

Emily choked on absolutely nothing.

Kit beamed. “See? This is why I love you.”

Edith set her tote down, unbuttoned her coat, and pulled out a folded apron with tiny, embroidered poinsettias on the pockets. She set the tin on the butcher block—shortbread, as it turned out, each piece decorated with a hand-piped holly leaf in green and red icing. “At my age, dear, one learns that good gossip makes any gathering worth attending.”

The front door opened again, letting in a burst of cold air and the cheerful jangle of the bell. Mrs. C. stepped inside, bundled in a red wool coat, carrying a canvas bag and a crockpot full of loaded baked potato soup.

Mrs. Bishop followed behind her in a pale blue hat with a very perky pom-pom and a large ceramic dish covered in foil that turned out to contain her famous cheese-and-herb pull-apart rolls, still warm from the oven.

Madison was the last to arrive, coming from the farmhouse, which still took a considerable amount of time thanks to the snow drifts blowing in the country. She’d brought a charcuterie board filled with sharp cheeses, sugared cranberries, honeycomb from the farm shop, little rosemary crackers, and slices of salami. Kit added the brown butter croissants to the spread and produced a pot of raspberry jam from the pantry. Within ten minutes, the countertop looked like a party, which was what happened whenever these women gathered.

“And the bake-off,” Mrs. Bishop said, carefully pressing a gingerbread wall into place while Kit held the other side steady. “How are you feeling about all of that, dear? That was quite a morning.”

Emily looked at the piece she was assembling—the front of her bakery, royal icing along the edges, waiting to be joined to the side wall—and thought about how to answer that honestly.

“I’m embarrassed,” she said. “I said things I shouldn’t have said, and I made accusations that weren’t fair. And I’m trying to do better. Trying to get a handle on my temper.” She looked up. “Starting with admitting that out loud to all of you.”

The table was quiet for a moment. Edith set down her piping bag. Mrs. C. looked up from the Oak Way storefront she’d been carefully painting with food coloring.

“We know you, Emily,” Edith said, with the simple certainty of someone who had known Emily since she was six years old. “We know your heart.”

“Even when your mouth gets ahead of it,” Mrs. C. added, which, from Mrs. C., was the warmest possible version of the same sentiment. She went back to painting.

“Is the famous Alders–Whitaker feud finally laid to rest?” Mrs. Bishop asked, in the tone of someone very much hoping the answer was yes, her fingers still pressed to the gingerbread wall.

Emily took a breath. “We’ve officially put it to bed,” she said.

The table went completely silent for approximately one second.

Then it dissolved in laughter.

Edith made a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a delighted gasp, knocking her piping bag sideways. Mrs. Bishop let go of the gingerbread wall, which Kit caught with one hand.

Emily went the color of the red royal icing.

“That is not what I meant,” she said. “I mean we put it to rest. Like it’s over…”

“Of course not, dear,” Edith said, still laughing, and retrieved her piping bag.

“We’ve resolved the feud. That’s all I⁠—”

“Naturally,” said Mrs. C., with tremendous composure, touching up a storefront window.

“Can we please—” Emily pressed her fingers to her face. “Can we talk about something else?”

“Whatever you’d like,” Mrs. Bishop said, resuming her careful pressure on the gingerbread wall, pleased as punch.

Emily took a steadying breath then reached for her notepad.

“Actually,” she said, “there is something I want to talk about… Cole and I are still trying to solve the stolen sugar and spice cookie mystery. Maybe you guys can help.”

“Such as?” Edith asked, smoothing a length of royal icing along the roofline of the hardware store.

“Who else entered that year? Beyond Nana and Mr. Alders.” Emily tried to focus on the gingerbread town, but it was hard to when she craved answers.