“Please tell me you’re Holly, or we could be in big trouble here?”

She even smelled perfect. I nodded, painfully aware my first impression was silent sweaty girl in head-to-toe loungewear.

“That sign…” Hearing my voice here made me suddenly self-conscious, like I was putting on the most fake British accent ever. “It’s brilliant.”

Brilliant?! I never say brilliant. That was a Fred word. Had I swallowed a Hugh Grant film on the plane and now it was escaping out of me?!

She laughed and grabbed my suitcase. “All Elle’s work… You can say thanks later. I’m Jess, by the way…” She gave me another hug. “We’ve been SO looking forward to your arrival.”

Elle’s dad, Pete, joined us, the sign tucked under his arm, hot drinks in his hands. In actual red cups. “Elle said mint hot chocolate with…” he thought back, “cream and candy cane sprinkles would be the best jet lag cure.” He held one out for me. “Wanna see if she’s right?”

“Wow.” I was holding a red cup in their spiritual home! “I mean. Thanking you, sir. You’re very kind—I’m ever so grateful.”

Great. Now I was becoming a Victorian street urchin.

But there was no time to stress: we were off, heading home in their massive van. And once we’d cleared the airport, New Jersey was just as I’d hoped. Cute-colored houses, big, green road signs like in the movies, huge cars with Christmas trees strapped to their roofs, streets lined with twinkling displays and trees, and best of all, the thickest, whitest snow. The kind that made a crunch-squeak when you stepped on it.

As I sipped my drink, I already knew this decision had been the best one I’d ever made—and the magic didn’t stop the whole journey. Only downside was that, when I asked if they had any Christmas music, Jess put on a Michael Bublé Christmas album (confirming my worst suspicion that even really cool international mums still couldn’t resist the Bublé).

I couldn’t believe that my Christmas had gone from a write-off to this.

And an hour later, when we pulled up into Elle’s street, it got even better. All the big stand-alone houses were lit up with SO MANY Christmas lights. Snowmen, sleighs pulled by reindeer, even one house that couldn’t be bothered and had just written “same” in lights. There were decorations everywhere, on roofs, at the end of gardens, even poking out of chimneys.

What on earth was Elle going to think of my little house and tiny garden? I’d used words like quaint and authentic to prepare her and had made my room extra cozy, but still.