Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Friday morning dawned cold and bright, the kind of crystalline winter day that made everything look like it belonged on a postcard. Jade stood on Main Street with her hands wrapped around a thermos of coffee, watching Brice’s truck rumble up with three wooden booths secured in the bed.
“Morning!” Brice called, hopping out. His breath fogged in the air. “Got your Christmas retail establishments ready for deployment.”
Despite everything—the ache in her chest that wouldn’t go away, the exhaustion from two nights of restless sleep—Jade found herself smiling.
The booths were perfect. Simple A-frame structures with serving counters, small roofs to protect from snow, and red paint that practically screamed “Christmas cheer.”
“Brice, these are amazing,” she said, running her hand along the smooth wood. “You built all three in one night?”
“Had help from my brother,” he said, shrugging it off. “Plus, the holiday rush hasn’t started yet at the farm. Gave me something to do besides reorganize the storage shed for the fourth time.”
Felicity pulled up in her car. “Oh, these are perfect! Rustic-chic meets functional. Brice, you’re a genius.”
“Just a guy with a saw and too much time on his hands,” he replied, but he looked pleased.
They loaded the first booth back into the truck and headed for the pond, where skaters were already making lazy circles on the ice. The morning sun caught on the blade marks, turning them into silver ribbons.
Setting up the booth took longer than expected—the ground was frozen solid, requiring Brice to drill pilot holes before securing the structure. Jade and Felicity strung fairy lights around the frame while Brice worked, and by the time they finished, a small crowd of curious onlookers had gathered.
“That for the Tree Lighting?” Mr. Peters asked, his granddaughter tugging on his hand.
“Hot cocoa station,” Jade confirmed, forcing brightness into her voice even though her chest felt tight. “Fresh cookies too. Sunday evening, starting at six.”
“Will there be sleigh rides?” the little girl asked, her eyes wide with hope.
“Absolutely,” Jade said, and tried not to think about brown eyes and flannel shirts and trust that had shattered like ice. “Leo’s reindeer will be giving rides all evening.”
“Oh, Emma will love that,” Mr. Peters said. “We’ll definitely stop by.”
As they drove to the second location—the gazebo in the town square—Jade found herself checking her phone compulsively. No messages. No missed calls. Nothing from Leo about final coordination or timing or any of the dozens of details they needed to confirm.
He’s just busy, she told herself. He probably has a million things to do with the reindeer.
But the silence felt deliberate. Felt like distance.
“You okay?” Brice asked, glancing at her as he maneuvered the truck around a tight corner.
“Fine,” she lied. “Just running through the checklist in my head.”
The gazebo location went faster—level ground, plenty of space, and direct sightlines to the giant Christmas tree that would be lit Sunday evening. Jade could see the lights were already strung.
Felicity climbed up on a bench to hang a banner that proclaimed “Sugar Pine Sweets - Est. 1952” in cheerful red letters.
“This is going to be the money spot,” she declared. “Right in front of the tree? Everyone will stop here for snacks. You’ll sell out in an hour.”
“From your lips to God’s ears,” Jade murmured, arranging thermoses and paper goods.
More people stopped to ask questions. Families planning their Sunday evening, teenagers wondering about prices, elderly couples reminiscing about Tree Lightings past. Each time, Jade smiled and answered and wished them happy holidays, even though her heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise.
She was doing this. Making it happen. Proving she wasn’t running, wasn’t giving up, wasn’t the person Leo thought she was.
So why did it hurt so much?
They were loading the final booth for the church location when Ida and Ruth appeared, bundled in their matching tartan coats and armed with peppermint sticks.
“Well, well,” Ida said, circling the booth with an appraising eye. “Someone’s been busy.”
“The booths look lovely, dear,” Ruth added, her voice warm. “Very festive.”
“Thank you,” Jade said, wiping her hands on her jeans. “We’re setting up three stations around town. People can grab cocoa and cookies between sleigh rides.”
Something flickered across Ida’s face—there and gone so quickly Jade almost missed it.
“Sleigh rides,” Ida repeated, her tone carefully neutral.
“Yes, Leo’s doing rides from six to nine, stopping at each location.
It’ll give people a chance to see the whole town lit up for Christmas while supporting the bakery.
” Jade heard herself babbling slightly, filling the odd silence.
“We worked out the whole route during our trial run. It’s going to be perfect. ”
Another look between the two women. This one longer, more concerned.
“That sounds lovely,” Ruth said.
“We should go,” Ida announced abruptly, linking her arm through Ruth’s. “Lots to do before Sunday. You keep up the good work, dear. These booths are just lovely.”
“What was that about?” Felicity asked.
Jade shook her head. “No idea. Probably just Ida and Ruth being Ida and Ruth.”
Jade pulled out her phone and texted Leo. They hadn’t spoken since that night in his barn, and it felt awkward, but this was business. Having the sleigh rides was the key to success for her festival booths.
Hey, just confirming Sunday logistics. Start time still 6pm? Will touch base about the route.
She hit send before she could overthink it.
One minute passed. Two. Five.
No response.
“Let’s get this last booth set up,” she said finally. “Church location, then we’re done.”
She threw herself into the setup with almost manic energy, stringing lights with sharp, precise movements, arranging supplies with militant organization. Brice secured the booth while Felicity added decorative touches, and through it all, Jade kept one eye on her phone.
Nothing.
Father Michael came out to admire their work, blessing the booth with casual enthusiasm and promising to spread the word among his congregation. A family stopped to ask about Sunday’s schedule. Two teenagers wanted to know if they were hiring for the evening.
To each person, Jade smiled and answered and wished them happy holidays, even though panic was starting to claw at her throat.
By the time they had finished the third booth and loaded the empty truck bed, it was past noon. The sun was high and bright, glinting off snow and Christmas decorations, making everything look magical and perfect.
Jade’s phone remained stubbornly, devastatingly silent.
“Want to grab lunch?” Felicity asked too casually. “Talk through Sunday’s schedule?”
“We’ve been working non-stop for hours.
“You need to eat something that isn’t cookie dough,” Felicity announced, physically removing the inventory clipboard from Jade’s hands. “And I have something to show you. Something big.”
“Fee, I have a million things to—”
“They can wait thirty minutes. Come on.” Felicity was already grabbing her coat, her eyes bright with the particular gleam that meant she’d uncovered something juicy. “Trust me, you’re going to want to sit down for this.”
Ten minutes later, they were settled into a corner booth at the Frost Pine Cat Café, where a sleek gray tabby had immediately claimed Felicity’s lap and an orange marmalade cat was investigating Jade’s purse with intense interest.
“I still can’t believe this place exists,” Jade said, gently moving the cat away from her bag. “A cat café in Frost Pine Ridge? How in the world did they get Cecily Glick to approve of this?”
“Sara O’Conner opened it two years ago. It’s actually doing pretty well—tourists love it.
” Felicity was already scrolling through her phone with one hand while petting the tabby with the other.
“But we’re not here for the cats. Well, not primarily.
Order something. You look like you haven’t eaten since yesterday. ”
Jade ordered a turkey, stuffing and cranberry sandwich she wasn’t sure she could stomach, and a coffee she definitely needed. Felicity did the same, then set her phone face-down on the table with deliberate drama.
“Okay, so remember when I said I was going to do some research into why Cecily has it out for you?”
“Vaguely.”
“Right. Well, I spent last night in the library archives with Emily Clark, going through old newspapers. And Jade?” Felicity’s eyes were sparkling. “I found something.”
She flipped her phone around, displaying a grainy black-and-white photograph of what appeared to be a newspaper clipping.
Two women stood on either side of what looked like a judge, both holding elaborate fruitcakes.
One woman was beaming with pride, a ribbon pinned to her dress.
The other looked like she’d been forced to swallow something particularly bitter.
Jade leaned closer, squinting at the image. The photo quality was poor, the fashions clearly from another era—dropped waists and cloche hats. “Is that...?”
“Your great-grandmother Eleanor,” Felicity confirmed, pointing to the smiling woman. “And that sour-faced woman next to her? That’s Constance Glick. Cecily’s great-grandmother.”
“When was this?”
“April 1928. Listen to this.” Felicity swiped to another photo showing the article text more clearly and read aloud: “‘Mrs. Eleanor Bennett’s traditional fruitcake took first prize for the fifth consecutive year, despite formal complaints from Mrs. Constance Glick regarding recipe authenticity. Contest judges dismissed Mrs. Glick’s objections after thorough review, confirming the superior quality and traditional preparation of the Bennett family fruitcake. ”
Jade stared at the photo, pieces clicking into place. “A baking contest. They had a feud over a baking contest?”