Chapter 9
They’d barely made it three stores down from Pi’s the Limit before a fire truck with blue-and-red strobes cut through the lazy snow, engine rumble barely audible over the holiday playlist blaring from outdoor speakers.
A crowd had already gathered outside the pizzeria.
Nothing drew a crowd in Holiday Hollow like the possibility of mild peril or a day off from school.
Grace and Anna exchanged a look. Anna’s eyes said, “See?” and Grace’s said, “thank you.” They detoured back up the sidewalk, following the steady progression of the chief through the chaos.
Rick Dalton was exactly as Grace remembered from the tree-lighting: big, broad, hair buzzed to an impossible shortness, and a jawline that looked like it could bite through a desk.
He was one of those men who would never need to announce himself.
His presence just rearranged the atoms in a room to accommodate him.
She watched as he surveyed the pizza place, arms folded over his massive coat, face locked in an expression of controlled exasperation.
The owner, an older woman with a teased perm and apron dusted in flour, shadowed him anxiously, offering apologies, then denials, then apologies again.
Rick barely said a word, just pointed at the tangle of cords under the counter, then at the surge protector, then at the space heater, then at the ceiling where the light fixture gave a final, dramatic flicker.
After a few minutes, he seemed to reach a verdict, and the tension in the air changed. He shook hands with the owner, her nervous smile now edged with something like relief, and motioned to the two uniformed firefighters to start unplugging things.
Grace and Anna lingered by the window, uncertain whether they were witnesses, accomplices, or simply the first ones to see the movie and now stuck watching the credits roll.
Rick must have spotted them, because he came outside. “Well,” he said, giving both women a nod, “I gotta say, this is the first time I’ve ever been called out for an intervention before the fire even starts.”
Anna grinned. “We’re overachievers. Hi, Rick.”
He held the door, and they followed him back inside, where the heat was still on full blast, but the kitchen was now dark and ominous. “You mind?” he asked, gesturing to the vinyl booth they’d vacated not ten minutes earlier.
Grace slid in, feeling a little like a student in the principal’s office. Anna, of course, looked as relaxed as if she’d just finished a lap around the lake.
Rick took the seat opposite and let out a world-weary sigh. “Grace Baker, right?” He stuck out his hand, and when Grace took it, she felt the roughness of his palm, scar tissue and a lifetime of hard labor. He shook once, then settled his forearms on the table.
“First,” he said, “thanks for the heads-up. I haven’t been in here for a few years, but I’m still not sure how that perfect storm of a fire situation got that bad without anyone noticing. But you… you saw it from a vision?”
Grace nodded. “I just—” She stopped, not sure how much to say. “I saw it, I guess. That it was going to happen.”
Rick raised his eyebrows, but he didn’t look surprised. “That’s the word around town. That you see things.”
Anna looked ready to leap to her defense, but Rick held up a hand.
“No judgment. Not from me.” He exhaled slowly, glancing out the window at the mounting crowd.
“You know, it’s been a long time since the Hollow had a psychic.
Last one was old Mrs. Perillo, and she only used it to win at bingo. You’re the real deal, huh?”
Grace felt her cheeks heat. She almost denied it, but what would be the point? “I guess so,” she said.
He nodded, once. “Well, you just saved my life.” He said it matter-of-fact, like he was talking about changing a tire, but there was a gravity to it that stuck in Grace’s chest. “My guys, too. I appreciate that.”
Anna elbowed Grace under the table. “See? Heroic.”
Rick gave Anna a sidelong look. “And you, Anna, need to keep out of trouble. Tell your husband I’ll be dropping by the law office tomorrow about that parking situation.”
Anna rolled her eyes. “He said he was going to move the car. Eventually.”
Rick huffed out a laugh, then turned back to Grace.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he said.
“I’m going to have the owner shut this place down for a couple days.
They’ll rewire the kitchen, replace the fixtures, and get it up to code.
No harm, no foul, and no headlines in the Hollow Gazette.
” He flicked his gaze to the window. “Most people will forget by Monday. But you? You keep doing what you’re doing. ”
He tapped the table, once, then levered himself out of the booth with a grunt.
“You ever see anything like this again, you call me direct.” He slipped a business card across the table.
The name “Rick Dalton, Fire Chief” was printed in bold, no-nonsense font, and under it, in slightly smaller letters: “Available 24/7 for Emergencies and Unusual Situations.”
He hesitated, then looked at Grace one more time. “It’s a good thing, you know. Having someone like you around. The town’s lucky.”
Then he was gone, striding back into the white swirl and the commotion outside. Anna watched him go with an amused little smile.
Grace stared at the card for a long moment, then tucked it into her purse. “Was that… normal?”
Anna shrugged. “Depends what you mean by normal. For the Hollow? That was practically boring.”
They left the pizzeria for good this time, crunching through the slush toward the main square.
Anna insisted on stopping for hot drinks at a street cart, and Grace watched the ritual with fascination: Anna selected her own mug from the barista’s battered milk crate, a battered enamel one with faded dolphins, and the barista filled it without asking her order.
“See, that’s the secret to small towns,” Anna said as she sipped. “They remember what you need.”
Grace tried to believe it, but old habits were slow to fade. She held her cup tight, savoring the warmth, and let Anna lead the way down the cobblestone path.
Holiday Hollow had gone all-in for the season.
Window displays shone with string lights and mechanical Santas.
Shop windows glowed with candles, the glass painted with scenes of sleds and ice-skating rabbits.
There was a group of middle-schoolers in matching sweaters, singing Christmas carols off-key and shaking silver bells with reckless abandon.
The square itself was dominated by the massive pine tree, draped in enough garland to choke a bear and capped with a star that flickered in and out, as if refusing to fully commit.
For a while, they just walked, Anna telling Grace tales that made her smile. Grace noticed how the town pulsed with energy, how people seemed to move in time with the music, how even the tourists fell under the spell of relentless cheer.
She found herself relaxing, even laughing at Anna’s running commentary about which shops were tourist traps and which ones had the best cinnamon rolls.
By the time they’d circled the square and were halfway to Grace’s house, she realized she hadn’t thought about her ex, or her old life, or even her next vision, for almost an hour.
“So,” Anna said, breaking the silence as they turned onto Mistletoe Lane. “You feeling any better?”
Grace nodded. “I think so. It’s just… a lot. Every time I think I’m just a normal person settling into a new town, something happens.”
Anna stopped, boots sinking into a snowbank, and turned to face her. “You’re just different. That’s practically a job requirement here.”
Grace tried to smile, but it felt thin. “You make it look easy. Fitting in. Knowing where you belong.”
Anna’s eyes softened. “It wasn’t always.
When I was a kid, I hated it. Couldn’t go a day without someone asking if I could talk to fish, or if my mom slept in the bathtub.
But then I realized… nobody else in the world gets to be what we are.
You’re the only one like you. Why waste it wishing to be something else? ”
Grace looked down at the snow, watching how the streetlights made it sparkle. “It’s all pretty new, but sometimes I wish I could turn it off. The visions, I mean. I never know if I’m helping or just… making things worse.”
Anna didn’t answer right away. She just stood there, arms folded, steam rising from her mug. Then, quietly, she said, “I get that. Especially in the winter.”
Grace frowned. “Why winter?”
Anna laughed, but there was an edge to it.
“Because in the summer, I can swim. I’m not just some executive assistant or the mayor’s wife—I get to be myself.
But in the winter? The lake freezes. The baths help, but it’s not the same.
I get restless. Sometimes I feel like I’ll never be warm again.
” She shrugged, but her gaze was unwavering.
“But I still wouldn’t trade it. Not even on the days when the scales are itching and the only thing I want is to run back to the water and not come out until spring. ”
Grace was quiet, absorbing that. She thought about the way Anna had taken charge, called Rick, made it all seem routine. Maybe that was what happened when you stayed in a place long enough… you learned to bend the weirdness to your will.
They started walking again. The Lantern House glowed in the distance ahead. Grace had to admit, she looked forward to the moment when she’d be inside, wrapped in a blanket, the world held at bay for just a few hours.
Anna stopped at the bottom of the walkway and kicked at a drift. “You know,” she said, “you’re allowed to enjoy it. The attention, the being special. I think you’ve spent enough years hiding.”
Grace smiled, this time for real. “Maybe I have. Thanks, Anna.”
Anna winked, all mischief again. “Anytime. And remember—if you ever get sick of psychic stuff, we can always prank call the banshee in the next town over. She’s got a sense of humor, I swear.”
They hugged, awkward in their puffy sweaters, then Anna disappeared into the darkness, footsteps crunching out of sync with the piped-in holiday music.
Grace climbed the steps, fumbled for her keys, and stepped into the Lantern House’s fragrant warmth. For the first time since arriving, she allowed herself to feel it: relief, gratitude, the possibility that maybe, just maybe, she belonged.
She set her things down, and curled up by the fire. The wind outside rattled the windows, but inside, everything was soft light and the steady rhythm of her own breath.
The visions would come again, she knew that. But for now, she let herself rest. She was the only Grace Baker in Holiday Hollow, and that was enough.