Olivia arched a perfect brow. "This town is a battery. We run on holiday energy. The more people believe in the magic we create around the holidays, the more power we have." She sipped her cider, lipstick leaving a crisp half-moon on the glass.
"That’s why the celebrations are so important," Caroline chimed in. "It keeps the spark alive. If people stopped believing, the whole place would go drab and miserable in a week."
Anna nodded. "It’s not just parlor tricks, either. My mother used to say the Hollow was founded on a wish—some girl in a blue dress wanted to freeze winter forever so her family wouldn’t move away before Christmas. She got her wish, and every year, the town gets a little brighter, a little more… concentrated." She glanced at Olivia. "It also means we get all the weirdos."
"I prefer the term ‘connoisseurs of the extraordinary,’" Olivia deadpanned.
Grace considered this. "So the parades, the decorations, even the ball—they’re more than just tradition?"
Caroline grinned. "They’re sacred. Like church for people who hate sermons. We get together, eat too much, drink, andremember what it’s like to be happy for no good reason. And you, Miss Psychic, are now part of the tradition."
Grace blushed. "I’m still learning how to use it. Sometimes it’s helpful. Sometimes it just… hurts." She didn’t mean to sound so raw, but the cider loosened her tongue and the company made it feel safe.
Anna reached across the table and squeezed Grace’s hand. "You don’t have to fix everything. Just do what you can to help."
Caroline winked. "Speaking of which, did you hear about the kerfuffle at the café last night?"
Olivia rolled her eyes. "Let her finish her cider first, Caroline. She’s not ready for the dark underbelly of the gingerbread mafia."
They all laughed, and even Grace managed a real, unguarded smile. The stories came one after another: Anna’s tale about the year someone tried to spike the town’s eggnog with mermaid tears and accidentally gave half the council gills; Olivia’s confession that she sometimes turned bats into Christmas ornaments as a prank, but only if they annoyed her first; Caroline’s childhood memory of a Halloween so magical it permanently bleached her hair two shades lighter.
"I used to wish I was normal," Grace said, surprised at how small that wish felt now. "But I think I’d rather be here."
Anna raised her mug. "To being the right kind of weird, then."
The others followed suit, mugs clinking. "The right kind," they echoed.
The meal wound down, the bistro emptying as dusk crept in and the candles’ light grew more pronounced. Olivia traced a finger along the rim of her glass, and the fairy lights in the table centerpiece responded, flaring brighter and dancing in synchronized pulses.
Grace watched, enchanted. "Do you ever get used to it?"
"Never," Olivia replied, almost wistful. "And if you do, you’ve done it wrong."
They bundled up again, the cold outside shocking after the buttery warmth of the bistro. The air was heavy with snow about to fall, the sky bruised blue and purple, promising a dramatic backdrop for the tree lighting.
Caroline looped her arm through Grace’s. "Let’s go, darling. It’s time to be seen."
Anna and Olivia followed, trading barbed jokes about who would cry first when the tree lit up. As they made their way down the street, Grace looked up at the strands of light overhead—each bulb humming with possibility, every shadow made gentler by the company she kept.
For once, she didn’t worry about what she might see, or what it might mean. She just walked, surrounded by laughter and friendship, toward whatever magic waited for her next.
3
Lakeside Café looked exactly like a snow globe that’d been shaken by a particularly festive toddler: fat flakes still stuck to the outside of the windows, every available inch of shelf or ledge covered in bottle-brush trees, miniature sleighs, garland-wrapped lanterns. The scent of cinnamon rolls and coffee was thick enough to classify as a choking hazard. At the far end of the main room, a fireplace crackled and spat, watched over by a wooden Santa grinning like he’d just won the lottery.
Grace sat at a table just close enough to the fire to enjoy its heat, but not close enough to risk a dramatic cardigan ignition. Across from her, Caroline wore a coat that showed off a black cashmere turtleneck and statement jewelry that looked like it could double as weaponry. Anna, a vision in icy blue, plucked thoughtfully at her menu with nails that matched her blouse, while Olivia—hair slicked into a perfect auburn bob—was already halfway through her first cappuccino, red lipstick not even smudged.
Grace pressed her palms to the mug in front of her, willing the residual heat into her hands. She glanced at the window, where the world glowed under a fresh frosting of snow. It lookedlike a pageant contestant: pretty, perfect, and probably hiding a dozen neuroses under all that sparkle.
“So,” Caroline said, her voice cautious, “has our favorite PI-in-training picked a dress for the ball yet, or is she going to be coming in jeans and a t-shirt?”
Anna didn’t look up from the menu. “I think she should wear that red one from the window at Bloom & Vine. It’s got just enough class and just enough drama.”
“Please,” Olivia said, “the red one is good, but I want to see Grace in something black. She’d look like she owned the place, and it’d drive Bryant crazy.”
Grace immediately felt her cheeks go hot, which was impressive given the perfect temperature. “Isn’t the ball formal? I don’t even know what I’m supposed to wear. I might just let the sale’s lady pick something out for me.”
Caroline laughed. “Oh, honey, Holiday Hollow invented overdressing. The mayor’s wife wore an actual tiara last year. The only way you could embarrass yourself is if you show up in a Snuggie.”
