Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Saturday passed in a blur of flour and sugar and desperate productivity.
Jade baked until her feet ached and her hands cramped, filling container after container with cookies that had to be perfect because everything had to be perfect.
Mabel worked beside her, mixing and rolling and decorating, while Felicity appeared periodically with supplies and encouragement and photographs for her portfolio.
They stocked the booths in shifts—thermoses of cocoa mix, stacks of cups and napkins, carefully packaged cookies arranged just so. Jade triple-checked her inventory sheets, her timeline, her contingency plans. Everything was organized, coordinated, ready.
Everything except the one thing she couldn’t control.
Leo hadn’t responded to any of her texts.
Saturday night, Jade lay in the narrow guest room bed and stared at the ceiling, her mind racing through scenarios.
Maybe his phone was broken. Maybe he’d been too busy with last-minute preparations for the rides.
Maybe he was just as uncomfortable about their fight as she was and figured they’d work it out through sheer professional necessity tomorrow.
Or maybe he was still angry. Still convinced she was going to leave. Still determined to keep her at arm’s length.
Well, fine. If he was going to be that way about it, she wasn’t going to chase him.
She supposed he’d just show up tomorrow, avoid eye contact, do his job with cold professionalism while she did hers.
As long as those reindeer showed up and dropped people off at the booths, she didn’t care if Leo Carter never looked her way again.
She barely slept. When her alarm went off at four a.m., she was already awake, staring at the dark ceiling and running through her mental checklist for the hundredth time.
By five-thirty, she was dressed and caffeinated and loading the car with last-minute supplies. The town was still dark, Christmas lights twinkling against the predawn sky like captured stars.
By six, she was at the gazebo booth—her station, the crown jewel position right in front of the massive Christmas tree—arranging and rearranging until everything looked exactly right.
The fairy lights Felicity had strung glowed warm against the white paint.
The vintage mugs caught the light just so.
The cookies, protected in their clear containers, looked like something from a magazine spread.
It was perfect.
Around her, the Tree Lighting committee bustled about with the organized chaos of people who’d done this a hundred times before.
Electrical cords snaked across the square, connecting to generators and light displays.
A small stage went up near the tree for the mayor’s ceremonial speech.
The giant spruce itself stood dark and waiting, ready for its moment of glory at nine p.m.
Jade checked in with Mabel at the pond station, where her aunt was setting up with the same meticulous care. Then to the church, where Felicity was adding last-minute decorative touches and already photographing everything from artistic angles.
“It looks amazing,” Felicity declared, gesturing at the whole scene. “Seriously, this is going to be incredible.”
“If people show up,” Jade said, trying to squash the anxiety in her chest.
“They’ll show up. It’s the Tree Lighting. Everyone shows up.”
By five-thirty, as the starry night sky settled over Frost Pine Ridge, people began trickling into the square.
Families with bundled children, teenagers in groups, elderly couples arm in arm.
They admired the decorations, took photos by the tree, wandered between the various vendor booths that had been set up for the occasion.
A few stopped at Jade’s station. She served hot cocoa with a smile that felt only slightly forced, chatting about the weather and the tree and how beautiful everything looked this year. The cookies sold slowly but steadily—not a rush, but not empty either.
It was fine. Everything was fine.
Except it was five forty-five, and there was no sign of any reindeer.
At six, Jade left her station in the hands of a teenage volunteer from the church youth group and walked to Mabel’s booth at the pond. The path was longer than she’d remembered, and her breath fogged in the cold air.
“How’s it going?” she asked, approaching the booth where Mabel was adjusting a thermos.
“Slow,” Mabel admitted. “A few people have stopped by, but not many. I think they’re all staying near the square where the action is.”
“It’ll pick up,” Jade said with more confidence than she felt. “Once the sleigh rides start, we’ll have a steady stream of people moving between stations. That was the whole plan.”
“Of course,” Mabel agreed, but she glanced toward the road that led to Leo’s farm. “The rides do start at six, right? That’s what you said?”
“That’s what we planned.” Jade checked her phone. Six-oh-five. No new messages. “Maybe he’s running late. Getting the reindeer harnessed takes time.”
“I’m sure that’s it,” Mabel said, but she didn’t sound sure at all.
They stood in awkward silence for a moment, both staring down the dark road where sleigh bells should have been jingling by now.
“Well,” Jade said finally, “I should get back to my station. Let me know if you need anything.”
“Jade! Miss Jade!”
Lila came running up, her pink snowsuit bright even in the dusk, her mittened hand waving frantically. Behind her, a tall man with Steve’s face—older, more weathered, but unmistakably Leo’s brother—walked at a more measured pace.
“Hi, Lila,” Jade said, crouching down to the girl’s level. “Having fun at the festival?”
“It’s okay,” Lila said, her enthusiasm dimmed slightly. “The tree looks really pretty. And the cookies smell amazing.”
“Well, let’s get you some,” Jade said, standing up and extending her hand toward Steve. “Steve Carter? I haven’t seen you in years.”
“Good to see you, Jade,” Steve said with a kind smile, shaking her hand. “Welcome home. Leo mentioned you’d been helping Mabel with the bakery.”
The mention of Leo’s name sent an uncomfortable twist through Jade’s stomach, but she forced her smile to stay in place. “Trying to. Come on, let’s get you both some hot cocoa.”
Mabel served them both—Lila getting an extra-large cup and two cookies because Jade couldn’t resist her enthusiasm. The girl’s eyes lit up at the reindeer-shaped cookie, examining the careful icing work with obvious delight.
“These are so good!” Lila declared after her first bite. “And the cocoa is perfect. This whole thing is really cool, Miss Jade.”
“Thank you, sweetie.”
“It would be even better with the sleigh rides, though,” Lila continued, her voice taking on a wistful note. “I was really looking forward to those.”
Jade’s hand froze on the thermos she’d been refilling. “What do you mean? The sleigh rides start any minute. Leo should be—”
She trailed off as Lila’s face crumpled with confusion. “But Uncle Leo said he can’t do them. Because of Vixen’s leg.”
The world seemed to tilt slightly on its axis. “What?”
Steve cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. “I guess Vixen got injured a few days ago. Leo told her he couldn’t do the festival rides this year.”
“A few days ago?” Jade repeated slowly, her voice sounding strange in her own ears.
“Wednesday, I think?” Steve glanced at his daughter for confirmation. “Honey, when did Uncle Leo tell you about the sleigh rides?”
“Thursday morning,” Lila said, her excitement about the cookie forgotten as she picked up on the sudden tension. “He said Vixen hurt her leg and couldn’t pull the sleigh. He felt really bad about it. I don’t know why he couldn’t have Blitz or Maple do it. They can pull sleighs.”
Friday morning.
Friday morning, when Jade had been planning and organizing and texting him about logistics.
When she’d been setting up booths based on a route that required sleigh rides to work.
When she’d been operating under the assumption that they were partners in this, that he’d be there, that the plan they’d made together still meant something.
And he hadn’t told her.
“Miss Jade?” Lila’s voice was small now, worried. “Are you okay?”
Jade realized she was gripping the edge of the booth’s counter hard enough that her knuckles had gone white. She forced herself to release it, to paste on a smile that felt like it might crack her face.
“I’m fine, sweetie. Just... surprised. I must have missed the message.”
But she hadn’t missed any messages. She’d sent three texts asking for confirmation, asking about logistics, asking if everything was set. And Leo had ignored every single one while telling the rest of the town that he was backing out.
Steve was watching her with sympathy that made everything worse. “I’m sorry, Jade. I assumed you knew. Leo should have—”
“It’s fine,” she cut him off, her voice brittle. “Really. These things happen. Vixen’s welfare comes first, obviously.”
The lie tasted like ash, but what else could she say? That Leo had sabotaged her last chance to save the bakery? That he’d let her set up three stations spaced for sleigh-ride traffic without bothering to mention that the sleigh rides wouldn’t exist?
That he’d been so convinced she was leaving that he’d decided to prove himself right by abandoning her first?
Around them, the festival continued. People laughed and chatted, children ran between the vendor booths, Christmas music drifted from speakers set up around the square.
Everyone was having a lovely time, completely unaware that the evening’s main attraction—the thing that was supposed to tie everything together—wasn’t going to happen.
Jade’s carefully planned, perfectly organized, desperately needed festival was falling apart before it even really began.
“Well,” she said, her voice sounding too bright, too brittle, “I should check on the other stations. Make sure everyone has what they need.”
She made it around the corner of the church before she had to stop, leaning against the cold stone wall and trying to breathe through the panic rising in her chest.
No sleigh rides meant no traffic between stations.
The pond booth was already struggling—without rides to bring people out there, it would sit empty all evening.
The church station, equally remote, would be the same.
Even her prime location by the tree would suffer, because half the appeal had been the ability to hop on a sleigh and tour the whole town with hot cocoa in hand.
All that work. All those supplies purchased with money they didn’t have. All those cookies baked, all those hours spent planning and organizing and believing that maybe, just maybe, they could pull this off.
And Leo had known. Had known for days that she was building something that couldn’t work without him, and he’d said nothing.
Jade pulled out her phone with shaking hands and pulled up Leo’s contact. Her thumb hovered over the call button.
What would she even say? How do you ask someone why they destroyed you without warning? How do you demand an explanation from someone who’d already made it clear what he thought of you?
She lowered the phone without calling.
Through the wall, she could hear the festival continuing—laughter and music and the normal sounds of a town celebrating Christmas. Inside, she felt like she was breaking apart.
All their work. All their hope. All the money they’d spent on supplies and ingredients, money they couldn’t afford to lose.
They were going to be even deeper in the hole now. So deep that selling wouldn’t just be the smart option—it would be the only option.
And Leo had made sure of it.