6. Odette
6
ODETTE
Stowe, Vermont
The jet lands smoothly on a small, quiet airstrip surrounded by snow-covered mountains. Chloe gives me a smug grin as she waves goodbye, leaving me standing next to my suitcases in the brisk Vermont air. A black SUV waits nearby, and the driver greets me before loading my suitcases and whisking me to the house.
As we pull up, I see it. My breath hitches… and not in a good way.
A heads up would’ve been very much appreciated, Chloe Hartley.
The house isn’t large, but it is charming, and looks like it was plucked out of a Christmas postcard. Its two-story, weathered gray siding gleams against the backdrop of freshly fallen snow, the roof blanketed in a smooth, untouched layer of white. Pine wreaths hang on every window, accented with crimson bows, and icicle lights twinkle along the eaves, giving the house a warm, welcoming glow despite the cold. A wide front porch wraps around the front, decorated with garlands, twinkling lights, and red ribbon bows. An oversized wreath hangs on the bright red front door, a mix of pine cones, holly berries, and fresh greenery.
The driveway is freshly plowed, and a trio of cheerful snowmen stand sentinel in the front yard, with carrot noses and red scarves fluttering in the slight breeze, their twig arms adorned with festive mittens. String lights outline the house perfectly, and a tall pine tree near the porch sparkles with multicolored bulbs. Then there’s the pair of festive topiaries — shaped like Christmas trees, of course — at the foot of the front steps.
Simply put, it’s like someone used an “Ultimate Christmas Vibes” checklist and nailed every single detail, and then some.
It’s... a lot.
Just you wait till I get my hands on you, Chloe Hartley.
The driver helps me with my suitcases, gives me a quick “Merry Christmas,” assures me a rental car would be dropped off in a few hours, and disappears, leaving me to face this winter wonderland alone. With my purse slung over my shoulder, I grip the handles of both of my suitcases a little tighter as I make my way up the front steps, the snow crunching under the wheels and my boots. After unlocking the front door with the key Chloe gave me, I hesitate for a moment before stepping inside, bracing myself for what I know is coming.
The inside of the house is just as picturesque as the outside — and even more overwhelming.
There’s a faint smell of pine and cinnamon in the air, as if someone had bottled up Christmas and sprayed it liberally throughout the space. The floors are polished wood, and the walls are painted a soft cream, but most of that is hidden behind holiday decorations. Garlands drape the staircase railing leading up to the second floor, woven with lights and more red ribbon bows that match the ones outside. A large nutcracker stands guard by the front door, with an entryway table in the hall covered in a cheerful red runner, topped with candles, ornaments, and a miniature Christmas village that lights up.
The foyer opens into a living room straight out of a Hallmark holiday movie. A tall Christmas tree, easily eight feet, stands in the corner, its branches adorned with an array of glittering ornaments, glass baubles, wooden figurines, twinkling lights, candy canes, and enough tinsel to make it look like it’s covered in snow. A roaring fire crackles in the stone fireplace, flanked by stockings hanging from a sturdy oak mantle, each embroidered with festive patterns. Even the furniture is plush and inviting, with deep green and red pillows thrown across the couches, and cozy blankets folded neatly on the armchairs, each one in some kind of plaid pattern. Every surface seems to have some sort of holiday decoration — miniature nutcrackers, candles shaped like Christmas trees, bowls filled with pine cones and holly. More garlands frame the windows, and there’s a second Christmas village set up on the coffee table, complete with tiny figurines of carolers and little houses dusted with fake snow.
My eyes glaze right over the grand piano to the kitchen, which is visible from where I stand, that has its own holiday theme going on: red and green hand towels hanging from the oven door, a gingerbread house and a tray of what looks like fresh-baked cookies on the island, and another miniature tree, this one covered in tiny, glowing lights.
I exhale slowly, feeling like I’ve just walked into the North Pole’s cozy second home. Chloe had assured me this place would be perfect for getting away from the holiday chaos, but it seems like I’ve stepped right into the heart of it.
Or rather, Christmas on steroids.
This isn’t a winter wonderland. More like a winter nightmare.
“I will kill you, Chloe Hartley,” I mutter to myself.
Still, there’s something oddly peaceful about it. The soft glow of the lights, the quiet crackle of the fire already burning in the fireplace — it’s like the house is wrapped in a cocoon of warmth, offering me a safe — albeit nauseatingly festive — refuge from everything I’ve left behind. For the first time in a long while, I feel a flicker of something I can’t quite name. It’s not joy, but maybe the promise of it. Or at least, the absence of the ache I’ve carried for so long.
Then again, this place feels overwhelming, yet oddly comforting, like a gift I’m not sure I deserve. But I’m here, and there’s no room for sadness — it’s been shoved into every corner and replaced with holiday cheer on steroids.
I set my purse and suitcases down near the stairs, my boots leaving wet spots on the entryway mat, and rub my hands together for warmth. The fire calls to me, but so does the quietness of the house. Letting out another breath, I take a few tentative steps further inside and glance toward the far end of the living room, where the gleaming black grand piano sits, its keys practically calling to me.
Okay.
Holiday cheer aside, this is exactly what I need.
The garlands brush against my arms as I lug both suitcases up the staircase. The upstairs hallway is just as decked out as the rest of the house, with more garlands, a cluster of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling, and framed prints of snowy landscapes on the walls. Every bedroom door is slightly ajar, inviting me to explore.
Explore, I do.
The first bedroom is practically Santa’s suite. The king-sized bed is covered with a red-and-green plaid duvet and throw pillows shaped like presents stacked on top. A miniature tree stands in the corner, surrounded by wrapped boxes that are either decorative or alarmingly premature.
So, no .
The second room is slightly less overwhelming but still festive. It has a queen-sized bed with winter-themed bedding, snowman sheets, and a shelf with a collection of Christmas-themed stuffed animals. The window is framed with lights, but at least there isn’t a full-on tree in here.
It’s... sweet , but I can’t imagine myself sleeping here either.
The third bedroom isn’t any better, but it sure is cozy, with its soft yellow walls and dark wooden furniture. A queen-sized bed sits against the far wall, piled high with a comforter that’s the exact shade of Christmas red, of course. There are more plaid pillows on the bed, and sure enough, there’s a small Christmas tree in the corner, its tiny lights glowing warmly.
Still a no for me.
To my relief, the fourth bedroom is the least Christmas-y of the bunch. The bed calls to me — a queen-sized bed with a thick, plush comforter and an assortment of neutral cream and beige throw pillows. Unlike the other rooms, the decor in this one is simple: a wooden dresser, a small desk, and a single wreath above the headboard — like the Christmas decor ran out by the time they got to this room, so they threw on what they could and called it a day.
Looks like I’m sleeping in Santa’s least favorite guest’s room.
I drag my suitcases inside, set my purse on the dresser, and stare longingly at the bed. Granted, it still has hints of holiday spirit, but it’s subdued compared to the rest of the house. Likewise, this room smells faintly of pine and cinnamon, but it’s not overwhelming. So it’ll have to do.
After rummaging through my things, I grab a change of clothes and my toiletry bag before heading to the en suite bathroom for a quick shower. I dry off with one of the fluffy towels hanging from the rack, which, unsurprisingly, has a holly pattern embroidered along the edges.
The urge to strangle Chloe rears its ugly head once again, but I shove it back down.
Once I’m dressed in soft leggings and an oversized sweatshirt, I find my sleep aids in my purse. After plugging my phone in to charge, I toss the throw pillows to the floor before crawling into the bed. The mattress is firm but inviting, and as soon as I slide under the covers, I feel the tension in my shoulders start to melt.
The sleep aid does its job, and I’m out in minutes, lulled into a deep, dreamless sleep.