“There are two of us!” they argued. “We should have twin trees!”

Noelle swung little Jayla in a circle, while her brother, Jeremiah, pulled on Noelle’s pants for a turn. “Where are you going to put two trees in your house, my sweet babies?”

Before they could answer, Miriam took each twin in one hand. “What if,” Miriam said, leading them toward the trees, “we go pick out a sapling for each of you, that can be your tree forever, as long as it’s growing?”

“I owe you!” Elijah called after her.

Noelle grinned, hoping Miriam and Elijah would become real friends.

Marisol and Collin had booths next to each other in front of the porch, between the roasted chestnuts and a caricature artist, Marisol selling brooches and trinkets and scarves—more stocking stuffers—while Collin peddled mincemeat pasties and peppermint mochas. Marisol was quite obviously flirting with Collin. His face had turned as red as his hair and he was at a complete loss for words. Noelle suspected, watching them, that by the end of this night, Marisol might “accidentally” drag Collin underneath some mistletoe and demand tradition be kept.

She found the old lady alcoholics wandering as a pack through the late afternoon light, haggling over prices, collecting trinkets, smoking like chimneys. They poked Noelle good-naturedly about Miriam.

“You did good, kid,” the ball player told her. “Don’t screw it up.”

And through it all, Kringle lurked through the snow, winding through people’s legs, begging for scraps and attention. Toddlers, unused to seeing a cat larger than themselves, chased him gleefully.

Noelle’s heart was full of how much she loved this damn place, and all these people.

As dusk fell, she climbed up onto the stage and took the microphone. Her bomber jacket ruffled in the breeze, and the puff ball on her snowflake beanie bobbed a little. The murmurs of the crowd faded.

“Friends and family, I’m so honored to welcome you to Carrigan’s Christmasland for the annual tree lighting ceremony,” she said. “As you’re all aware, this year is not like any previous one at Carrigan’s.”

There was a mournful susurration through the crowd. Noelle pushed on, trying hard not to let her voice crack. “For the first time in its sixty-year history, Cass Carrigan is not here doing emcee duty and did not decorate our tree.”

The past few weeks had been a whirlwind of distractions, and now, grief almost overwhelmed her again, the absence of Cass rolling over her in a wave that threatened to suck her under. She wanted Cass to be here, so Noelle could yell at her for not intervening in Miri’s childhood, for leaving them scrambling to stay afloat, for putting Hannah in such a terrible position. She wanted Cass here so she could show off Miriam, and to have Cass tell her that she was proud of how far Noelle had come.