Chapter 29 Breaking the Ice
breaking the ice
Ivar
Ivar poured himself a coffee while Al was sprawled in front of the stove, paws twitching in a dream. Picking up his phone, his thumb hovered over last night’s messages.
For someone who claimed to hate surprises, Holly Kringle had sure become one he liked very, very much. In one short, but incredibly full week, she’d turned his world upside down, inside out, and given it quite a good shake.
And now it was the first day of the Christmas Carnival and the kickoff to Operation: Christmas Arc the Hales.
He wondered if she was awake yet and if she, too, had spent the night replaying everything between them. He thumbed open their chat and started typing.
Ivar: Woke up to find roasted squash in the fridge and lingering trauma from hearing you say “ho ho ho.” Thanks for that.
Holly: Consider it an early Christmas gift.
Ivar: Pretty sure that’s what nightmares are made of.
Holly: Then you’re welcome.
Ivar: You bringing your broom today or should I clear the skies first?
Holly: Keep it up, Ranger, and I’ll turn you into coal.
Ivar: Worth it.
Ivar stared at the screen for a while before setting the phone down beside his coffee. Outside, the trees were dusted in light snow, the world still and waiting. He had no idea where any of this was going, only that it had a momentum of its own and he would follow it wherever it led.
***
Holly
Holly arrived at the carnival just as the church bells rang noon. The town square had been transformed with strings of lights draped from lamppost to lamppost, and garland wound around every post.
“I’ve never seen it look so good,” one woman said, making Holly smile. She may have popped by on her broom last night and given it a little Santa zhuzhing.
She scanned the crowd, searching for Ivar.
Children darted past with candy canes and Santa hats, the air alive with laughter and the squeak of snow boots.
On the main stage, the mayor stood proudly beside Rowan and Chad Hale, both in matching red sashes that read CARNIVAL GRAND MARSHAL in glittering gold letters.
Liv had outdone herself.
She sensed him before she saw him, as if he were a planet coming into her orbit.
“Sorry, I’m late,” Ivar said, brushing past her, snowflakes melting in his hair. “These two—” he nodded toward Liv’s boys, “said they’d be ready in five minutes, but their version of five minutes is twenty in real time.”
Wyatt grinned, tugging his hat lower. “Hey, I couldn’t find my favorite sweater. We’re gonna get hot chocolate, okay, Uncle Ivar? Mom gave us money.”
“Sure,” Ivar said. “Meet me back here in an hour.”
“Okay!” The boys took off through the crowd, laughter trailing behind them.
Holly smirked. “He likes a girl.”
Ivar blinked. “What?”
“Wyatt. That’s why he needed the sweater.” She gestured toward the cocoa stand, where two girls about Wyatt’s age were giggling behind paper cups, their cheeks pink from the cold.
“Oh,” Ivar said, realization dawning. “I didn’t know Santa knew that kind of thing, too.”
“It’s not magic, Ivar. It’s observation. Sometimes you just need to pay attention,” Holly said with a small smile.
“Like with my binoculars.”
“Exactly.”
“Except that your father…”
She shrugged and linked her arm through his. “Sometimes it is magic.”
The mayor stepped up to the microphone, tapping it once until the feedback squealed across the square. “Welcome, everyone, to Winterwood’s Annual Christmas Carnival!”
The crowd cheered.
Holly leaned toward Ivar. “He sounds like he’s been practicing in the mirror all week.”
“Probably has,” Ivar murmured.
The mayor continued, voice booming: “This year, we are especially honored to have as our Grand Marshals the new stewards of the Hale property—Rowan and Chad Hale!”
Polite applause rippled through the crowd. Rowan beamed, waving to the audience. Chad, on the other hand, looked as comfortable as a man enduring a dentist appointment for a reality TV show. His smile was tight, his eyes already scanning for an escape route.
Holly’s heart tightened. The tension was almost tangible, and the cheer of the crowd balanced on the edge of politeness, not warmth. The plan had begun, but this wasn’t how she’d pictured it. Everyone was polite, but not welcoming.
We need joy, she thought. Belonging. Fun.
Without thinking, she reached for Ivar’s hand. His fingers curled instinctively around hers. Then she didn’t think, didn’t try; she simply wished.
The air seemed to hush and soften. The lights strung along the eaves flickered once before glowing brighter. A child’s laughter rang out, bright and clear as sleigh bells. And then, from somewhere near the cocoa stand, came the sharp whump of a snowball hitting its mark.
Another followed. Then another. Within seconds, the whole square erupted into a good-natured snowball fight. Laughter and shouts rose above the town like music, mittens were flying, and people were ducking behind snowbanks and benches.
Holly laughed, startled by the sudden wave of joy. Ivar’s hand was still in hers, his expression half wonder, half awe.
“Did you…?” he began.
“I don’t know,” she said softly. “I think I did, but I’m not sure. I usually use my magic for more practical things.”
“Like Santas in my latte foam and toy deliveries?”
“Exactly,” she said, grinning, but inside, this felt significant. Like she’d remembered how to breathe.
The snowball flurry lasted only a few minutes, but it was enough to shift everything. The stiffness in the air melted into laughter; strangers smiled at one another, Rowan was laughing with the mayor, and even Chad had a smile on his face as he brushed snow from his coat.
When the mayor finally stepped back to the microphone, his hat askew and cheeks flushed, the crowd quieted on cue, still grinning.
“Well,” he said, chuckling, “I can see Winterwood’s enthusiasm hasn’t cooled any this year.
And now, before we all freeze solid, let’s officially begin our festivities with Chad and Rowan Hale judging our ice-carving contest.”
Applause rippled through the square, louder and lighter now, carried by true excitement instead of courtesy. Holly squeezed Ivar’s hand one last time before letting go.
“That,” she whispered, “was phase one.”
He smiled. “I’d call it a success.”
Holly stayed near Ivar at first, caught by the echo of magic. Then, remembering the plan, she nodded toward the judges’ stand. “I’ll keep an eye on Rowan.”
“So that leaves me with Chad,” he said, adjusting his hat with a wry smile.
“Exactly,” she teased, and moved through the crowd.
Rowan stood beside the carvers, cider in hand, watching a group of teenagers attempt a bear that looked halfway to becoming a moose.
They waved her over, laughing, and she gamely joined them, accepting a tiny ice cup one of the kids had carved and toasting them with mock ceremony.
The sound of her laughter lifted something in Holly’s chest.
Across the square, Chad lingered at the edge of the crowd, posture stiff but eyes tracking the carvers.
Emma passed by with a tray of cookie samples, her hair tumbling out from beneath her red hat.
When she offered him one, he startled slightly, then accepted with a tentative smile.
She said something Holly couldn’t hear, and he actually laughed.
Holly smiled to herself. Phase one, indeed.
She joined Rowan, handing her a napkin with a warm cinnamon bun from Emma’s stall. “You looked like you were having fun.”
Rowan grinned. “I forgot how nice this could be. I like Seattle, but nothing beats a small-town festival.”
They watched in companionable silence for a moment. Then Rowan’s voice lowered. “I’m sorry if Chad was at the cabin. I mean, weirder than usual.”
Holly followed her gaze. Chad had moved closer to Emma’s booth, both of them laughing now.
“He told me once the place always gave him the creeps,” Rowan said quietly. “He said it made him feel watched. I think he’s afraid to go back.”
“Afraid?” Holly echoed.
“Not of ghosts. Just… something he doesn’t understand.
And Chad doesn’t like not understanding things.
” Rowan gave a small, sad smile. “We were never close growing up, and now we’re almost strangers.
Once our parents died, we were sent to different schools on different coasts.
He’s also seven years older than me, so we never spent summers together.
This project was supposed to fix that. First, he convinced me to sell so we could invest in something together.
Then he had the resort idea. I never wanted to sell, and I certainly don’t want to touch the forest, but I want a relationship with my brother.
I guess I thought being in Winterwood together would help. ”
“Then we’ll make sure it does.”
Rowan’s smile warmed. “You sound like my aunt Betty.”
“Smart woman,” Holly said, and they both laughed softly, the sound mingling with the rhythmic chip of chisels.