It was Miriam’s first taste of working Carrigan’s, talking to people about the attributes of various fir trees, taking payments, directing customers to the seasonal workers. Business stayed slow but steady (and grueling) in those first few weeks. She often found herself working shoulder to shoulder with Noelle, usually while Noelle picked up a giant tree like it was made of air and carried it to a customer’s car.

Miriam absolutely did not swoon every time, even if Noelle’s shoulders bunched under her flannel and her tattoos rippled where her sleeves were rolled up. They were sniping at each other less since their conversation on the porch swing, but they hadn’t had any more authentic interactions. Noelle grouched about having to help the newbie learn the ropes but also smiled at her a few times—a miracle. Miriam wanted to believe Noelle was being nice for her own sake, although she suspected it was to avoid Hannah’s wrath.

Hannah might be the organizing force behind Carrigan’s Christmasland and the Matthewses might be the backbone, but Noelle kept all of them from working until they collapsed. Miriam kept catching Noelle forcing bottles of water into Hannah’s hands or shooing Mrs. Matthews out of the kitchen or showing up just when Mr. Matthews needed a second pair of strong hands. She wondered who was taking care of Noelle. Not that she wanted to volunteer, since she had her caretaking hands full fielding emergencies from the Old Ladies even from here.

But she hoped someone was making sure Noelle hydrated and slept and felt looked after.

As the days wore on, Miriam became increasingly convinced that Noelle and Hannah had conspired to show her how hard a Christmas season at Carrigan’s was to work. She didn’t know if they were testing her or trying to drive her off, only that they were keeping her so busy she collapsed into her bed every night with very little energy left for scheming about visions of a New Carrigan’s. She’d taken to carrying a little pocket notebook in her work apron, and she wrote down ideas as she walked around the farm, listening to tourists talk about their plans for winter break. Wine tasting and local chef pairings? Carrigan’s could host that. Holiday craft market? That would be easy to add to one of their existing events.

Most days saw Miriam stationed out front when business opened, welcoming people as they came off the shuttle. Her resemblance to Cass was a blessing and a curse, as it both put people at ease and brought their grief to mind. It seemed that anyone who’d ever so much as spoken to Cass in passing loved and missed her. Miriam got used to hearing, several times a day, how startlingly like her aunt she was.