Chapter 21 Quizmas Eve
quizmas eve
Holly
The Sugarhouse Brewery glowed like a hearth against the snow. Warm amber lights gleamed through its tall windows, throwing gold across the frosted glass. Inside, the air was thick with laughter, roasted garlic, and the faint sweetness of maple sugar.
Holly shrugged off her coat and followed Ivar toward a booth in the corner.
He slid into one side. She took the other.
“No snowshoes. No maps. No brooms,” she said, resting her elbows on the table. “Feels almost like a normal evening.”
Ivar grinned. “Speak for yourself.”
“Actually, I’m not really,” she said, but the corners of her mouth tugged up. “Normal for me is a microwaved burrito for dinner and then a couple of hours of work before bed.”
“That’s not what I imagined #SantaLife to be like. Not that I ever thought about it.”
She laughed softly, the sound surprising even her. Being with Ivar was easy—too easy.
Before she could reply, a server appeared beside their table. She had thick auburn hair in a messy braid, a flannel shirt rolled to the elbows, and a pencil tucked behind one ear. Her name tag read Tess.
“Evening, Ivar,” she said. “Didn’t expect to see you out on trivia night. Who’s your friend?”
“This is Holly Kringle,” Ivar said. “Holly, this is Tess. Winterwood’s brewmaster number one.”
“Ah,” Tess said with a smile, turning to Holly. “So you’re the one looking at the Hale land.”
“I am,” Holly said. “Nice to meet you. What do you recommend on a night like this?”
“Well, the Irish stew will thaw your bones. And I’d pair it with our winter cider—maple-spiced with a hint of cinnamon.”
“Sold,” Holly said.
“I’ll have the same,” Ivar added. “And a pint of my usual.”
“Coming right up,” Tess said, scribbling on her pad. “Better hurry, trivia’s starting soon.”
“What does she mean by that?” Holly asked.
“I’m not much of a trivia guy. I haven’t been to one since I moved back.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. What about you? Is trivia big in the North Pole?”
“I do not live at the North Pole. I live in NED. It stands for the Northeast Division. And I have no idea whether trivia is big or not. So what’s your usual?”
“Imperial stout.”
“Of course,” she said with mock solemnity. “But I kind of pegged you as a maple IPA kind of guy.”
“And that means what exactly?”
“You’ve got a very I’m from Vermont kind of vibe, that’s all.”
He smirked. “You and your vibes.”
“Yes, well, right now my vibe wants to ask you about California. Because that doesn’t seem to suit your vibe.”
Ivar hesitated, then exhaled. “Yeah. Well. That was a lifetime ago, or so it seems. I studied programming at college, wanting to go into gaming. We were a small startup with big plans. The hours were long. The pace was fast, and the deadlines were approaching. My girlfriend at the time was the lead designer. We lived and breathed code.”
Holly nodded, watching him closely.
“Then I collapsed one day in the parking lot,” he said. “Stress-induced heart arrhythmia. That’s what the doctors called it.”
“Oh my goodness,” she said softly. “What happened?”
“I spent a few days in the hospital, and for the first time in years, I didn’t open my laptop even though Cynthia had dropped it off. And when I finally walked out of there—this sounds ridiculous—a cardinal dropped a small pine branch on my windshield, and all I could think of was returning here.”
She blinked. “That’s oddly specific.”
“You’re right. It felt like a sign, so I listened.
It made me realize I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life behind a screen, and I literally packed up my car that day, knowing I had to return here.
” He rubbed the back of his neck. “When I told Cynthia I wanted out, she laughed, assuming it was a phase because of the collapse. After a couple of weeks, when she realized I was serious and staying in Winterwood, she got angry and took our prototype to a competitor before I could sign over my half.”
Holly winced. “Ouch.”
“I lost everything,” he said. Then, with a small shrug: “But I was where I belonged. Want to know what’s even stranger?” He leaned forward, and she did too.
“A cardinal dropped a pine branch on my windshield a few weeks ago.”
Her eyes widened. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope. And then you show up and we find the tree."
For a moment, neither spoke. Their eyes held over the candle flickering between them.
“Do you think—” Holly began, but then Tess returned with their drinks.
“Here you go. One stout. One winter cider. The stew’ll be out in five.”
“To surviving broom travel,” Ivar said, raising his glass, as Tess walked away.
“And to not vomiting on your copilot,” Holly added, clinking gently.
***
The bell over the bar rang three times.
“All right, folks,” called George Keating, the town’s unofficial trivia master, from behind the microphone. “Teams of two to four!”
A cheer rose from the crowd. Emma waved from the next booth over. “Ivar, I can’t believe you’re here. You’re joining, right? You too, Holly! Newcomers always bring luck.”
“Oh, come on, Emma,” Ivar groaned good-naturedly. “You know I’m not up for this.”
“That’s why you need me,” Emma teased. “Our team’s called The Maple Mug Misfits!”
Liv appeared then, wearing a smile and sliding into Emma’s booth. A mug of cider awaited her. “Join us, Ivar. That way if we lose, I can blame you.”
“You always do,” Ivar said.
Holly looked between them, amused. “You people take this seriously.”
Tess passed by, dropping off their bowls of stew. “Oh, honey,” she said, grinning. “In Winterwood, trivia night is blood sport.”
“In honor of the upcoming Winterwood Christmas Carnival,” George called out, “tonight’s theme is Holiday History and Folklore!”
Ivar shot Holly a conspiratorial smile. “Actually, Emma. I think we’ll join you after all.”
The next hour flew by in a whirl of laughter, music, and shouted answers.
Holly found herself leaning over the table, arguing about whether Dasher or Dancer was older (George ruled for Dancer, and although he was wrong, Holly let it go).
She knew more than she thought, considering she’d never given much attention to tradition or folklore.
Of course, she didn’t know much about the local traditions, but she found herself listening with genuine interest to the stories and the gentle nostalgia threaded through every laugh and memory shared around the table.
Between rounds, she and Ivar exchanged grins over their mugs. Each time he laughed, it reverberated inside her, thawing something that had been frozen far too long.
There was a spark woven through their connection. She wasn’t sure what it meant, but she wanted to stay in it, to enjoy being seen and understood. To have fun.
By the final question, everyone was leaning forward. It was a close race, and this question was worth extra points. “What traditional holiday figure rides a broomstick on the eve of Epiphany?” George read aloud.
The bar went quiet. Holly froze, her pulse quickening.
Then Ivar’s slow, wicked grin spread across his face. “I got this.”
He stood, and while his voice boomed across the room, his eyes never left hers. “La Befana.”
“Correct!” George shouted. Cheers and friendly boos erupted around them.
Liv and Emma clapped, Tess banged a spoon against the bar, and Ivar raised his glass again. “To the Maple Mug Misfits,” he said, “and all the Christmas figures out there.”
He held his hand up to Holly for a high five. She laughed, accepting congratulations from some of the other teams, like she belonged there.
With him.
***
Ivar
The night air hit like a cool cloth after the warmth of the brewery. Snow had started again. Big soft flakes spiraled through the streetlamps, landing in Holly’s hair like bits of starlight. She pulled her scarf tighter, her cheeks flushed from cider and laughter.
“I can’t believe we actually won,” she said, glancing over at him.
“Pretty sure that means I retire undefeated,” he said. “Go out on top.”
“Coward.”
“Strategic,” he corrected, hands tucked in his coat pockets. “I’d rather stay a legend than risk humiliation next week.”
She gave him a sideways smile. “You liked it.”
“A bit,” he admitted. “But don’t tell anyone. I’ve got a reputation as a recluse to maintain.”
“Too late,” she said, bumping his shoulder lightly. “You laughed out loud and high-fived half the bar after our victory.”
“That was an accident.”
They both chuckled, their boots crunching on the snow. The town had quieted, with only the faint glow of windows and the scent of wood smoke lingering in the air.
Holly stopped for a moment, taking it in. “It’s beautiful here.”
He looked at her, the lamplight soft on her face, and thought the same thing.
He’d spent years keeping to himself, convinced solitude was easier. Trivia nights, crowded rooms, small talk was all noise. He’d chosen silence instead.
But tonight had been different.
Because of her.
And not for the mind-altering introduction to a world of magic. Something simpler, but equally profound. He’d forgotten the joy of sharing a laugh, of having a partner—not in work, not in survival, but in living.
“Thank you,” she said suddenly.
“For what?”
“For today. For reminding me of how to have fun.”
He smiled, shy but warm. “You make a pretty good trivia partner.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
They reached the steps of the inn, hesitation hanging between them. For a moment, neither of them moved. The air between them felt charged again, but not with magic. Something quieter and human. The temptation to close the distance, to lean in and kiss her, was strong.
But whatever had stirred beneath the trees still lingered between them, and it deserved time to take root.
“Good night, Holly.”
“Good night, Ivar.”
The door closed, and for a long moment, he simply stood there, feeling that same earthly hum of peace, life, and promise.
***
Holly
Later, lying in bed, Holly stared up at the ceiling, the day looping through her mind in flashes. Her thoughts spun, circling back to one thing. One person.
Ivar.
After all that had happened, it was Ivar who grounded them. Who grounded her. Tonight at the brewery, she’d been a version of herself who laughed and teased. Holly the person, not Holly the Santa.
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. The screen lit up.
Ivar Nilsen.
She smiled before she even opened it.
Ivar: Trivia champ still awake?
Holly: Just taking my victory lap.
Ivar: Pretty sure I carried the team.
Holly: You answered one question.
Ivar: It was the winning question. That counts for at least five.
Holly: Technically true. And fine, partial hero status granted.
Ivar: I’ll take it.
(pause)
Ivar: Thanks for today, Kringle. All of it.
Holly: Same, Ranger. Same.