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The front had a black background and gold fancy lettering that said Eat, Drink & Be Merry, with Hard Luck Christmas Festival 2026 in smaller writing below. Cute, cartoony cocktails and clear mugs of hot cocoa with marshmallows, candy canes and evergreen boughs loosely circled the words. The back side was white with a few of the same tiny cartoony Christmas objects and was like a Bingo card with the names of all thirty participating merchants.

She was shocked. She’d never expected Kanon—a guy who didn’t even graduate from high school and had been working in the oil field for years—to be creative, especially not this creative.

She could’ve texted him, but she called instead. For whatever reason, she wanted to hear his voice and figured she’d probably never have a better excuse. He felt like an ally of sorts—for the time being, anyway.

“Did you get the file?” he asked as soon as he answered.

“I did. What you’ve created is incredible! I had no idea you were so artistic. You’ve obviously had some training.”

“I’ve taken a few online courses. Graphic design has always been an interest of mine.”

“Have you ever tried selling your work?”

“I have a website and Instagram account but haven’t done a lot to pursue it.”

She’d never even thought of looking him up on social media. He seemed too dark and mysterious to post anything the whole world could see. “Do you have a company name?”

“Ink & Pixel.”

“I like that. I’m going to look it up.”

“Don’t waste your time. I don’t have much of a portfolio.”

She’d already put the name of his company into Google and found the link to his website. She clicked on it as she said, “You have to put this incentive card up somewhere, because it’s impressive. You must’ve died laughing when you saw my flyer. You’re a professional compared to me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with your flyer. You’ve put a lot of work into this festival. I haven’t been in town long, but I can already tell it wouldn’t be happening without you.”

“That’s what has me worried,” she said ruefully. “People will definitely know who to blame if it doesn’t turn out.”

“Screw ’em,” he said, a shrug in his voice. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

“Tell that to Harriet Hatfield,” she said.

“I’m not telling her anything,” he responded with a laugh. “I’m scared of that lady.”

Patience felt a smile spread across her face. “So is everyone else.” His website had populated with banners and flyers and various types of lettering he’d designed along with some book covers. “You’ve done some books?”

“A few. With independent publishing getting so big, there’s been a lot of demand. Everyone wants to write the next great novel, you know?”

“Your covers are particularly good. I think you may have found your calling.”

“Thanks.”

“How’d the day go for Kelsey?” she asked, switching to Instagram to see what he’d posted there.

“She’s still not back. That’s why it took me so long to get you the design. I was manning the front desk.”

“I hope you’ve heard from her…”

“She texted me to say she’s staying over.”

“She must like the guy. Either that or he’s kidnapped her and is using her phone.” As soon as the words came out of her mouth, she wished she could take them back. It was a morbid thing to say—not something to joke about. But the danger was real.

“She gave me our ‘safe’ word,” he said, taking it in stride. “She’s okay.”

Patience scrolled through his Instagram account, finding more covers and advertising banners. “You and Kelsey have a ‘safe’ word?”

“You should have one, too. I assume your father has a way of checking on you when you go off to meet a strange man. How do you two do it?”