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CHAPTER 1

EMMY

I paced the length of my little gift shop in downtown Big Wood, refreshing my phone again. I’d been waiting for a big package from a vendor to arrive. It was supposed to be here before eleven, but I hadn’t heard a word.

The website finally updated, and I let out a sigh. But the status didn’t make sense. According to the tracking information, my big package had arrived. According to the empty sidewalk in front of Wrapped on Main, it hadn’t.

I stood at the front window and stared out at the few cars parked along the curb. Maybe the driver was down the street and would be pulling up soon. Minutes passed. The only movement out front came from the edge of a pine garland around the window that had come loose.

Refreshing the screen didn’t help. Bold black text on a white background stared up at me.

DELIVERED — 10:42 A.M.

I groaned and walked behind the counter as the bell over the door jingled.

“Merry Christmas, Emmy. I figured you could use some help setting up that tree you ordered.” My mom’s best friend Janice stopped just inside the door in a red quilted coat, her glasses fogged from the cold and held up a paper bag from Hog & Hickory, the best barbecue joint in Tennessee. “Have you had lunch yet?”

The smell of smoked meat drifted through the shop, tangling with the cinnamon candle burning by the register. My stomach growled loud enough for both of us to hear it. “I had a peppermint mocha for breakfast.”

She looked at me like she’d decided looking out for her best friend’s daughter had turned into way more work than expected. “Come eat something before we start putting together the display.”

Wrapped on Main looked exactly the way I’d imagined when I signed the paperwork six months ago. White lights wrapped the old ceiling beams, red ribbon curled from baskets near the wrapping counter, and locally made candles, soaps, pottery, and ornaments filled the pine shelves along the walls. I couldn’t take credit for the lights, though. Joy Holly, whose holiday decorating business had half the storefronts on Main glowing by Thanksgiving, had taken one look at my bare beams in November and refused to leave until every strand was perfect. It was warm and cheerful and Christmasy without looking like Santa had exploded inside, and I loved it, which was the inconvenient part.

Coming home to take over my mom’s gift shop when my parents retired was supposed to be a place to land after my fiancé decided three months before our wedding that he wasn’t sure he was ready to be married after all. Six months ago, I’d had a venue deposit, a seating chart, and a wedding dress hanging in my parents’ guestroom closet. Now I had a gift shop I’d never planned on wanting and a rent payment due that depended on sales over the next four days. Sales I couldn’t make if my delivery didn’t arrive.

Janice nodded toward the empty space by the front window. “Where’s the big wooden thing?”

“The wishing tree. It was supposed to be delivered this morning.” I held out my phone so she could read the screen. “It says it was delivered, but it’s not here.”

“I see that. Have you called to follow up?”

“I was just about to.”

The custom wishing tree had sounded like a brilliant idea when I ordered it in September from a woodworker outside Asheville who had also made half the ornaments and cutting boards on my shelves. It was six feet of reclaimed wood, with enough hooks along the branches to hold little kraft-paper tags where customers could write down what they wanted for Christmas. Not what they wanted someone to buy them, but what they actually wanted: a new job, a healthy baby, somebody home from deployment, a sister to forgive them, five quiet minutes without anyone asking where their socks were. Since he was shipping the tree anyway, he’d packed my entire holiday restock into the same crate, which had seemed like a good way to save on shipping when he mentioned it.

I planned to debut the tree at the Big Wood Christmas Festival and donate part of the weekend’s sales to the holiday food drive. It was cute and meaningful and exactly the kind of thing that could go viral online. If I wanted to keep the shop going, I needed something to work. Otherwise I’d have another failure under my belt, and I wasn’t sure I could take it.

“You paid for it already?” Janice asked.

“Yes. Probably way too much, but I’m hoping it becomes an annual tradition. For that to happen, I need to make enough to cover January’s rent.”

Janice set the bag of food down on the counter. “Oh, kiddo. We’ll figure out something.”

My phone buzzed, and I grabbed it, expecting an update about my delivery. A weather alert flashed across the screen instead.

WINTER WEATHER ADVISORY EFFECTIVE 4:00 P.M.

Janice leaned closer. “That’s not good.”

“It’s Tennessee. This town buys every loaf of bread within twenty miles if the temperature drops below forty.”

“Because it takes about five minutes for half the roads around here to turn into a skating rink. Jace was telling people at the Visitor Center this morning that the front might come in early.”

“Jace is a district ranger. Worrying about weather is basically his job.”

“Yeah, but he’s usually right,” Janice said.

I chose not to acknowledge that and turned my attention to two women who came in carrying shopping bags. For a few minutes, I rang up candles, recommended stocking stuffers, and wrapped a serving board for somebody’s mother-in-law.