Oh, the gown. It fit as if it had been made for her. She spun, letting the skirts swirl up and reveal the petticoats and shoes hidden beneath. Even if everything was falling apart, even if her heart still felt half-stitched together, even if she didn’t want to believe in Christmas anymore, her girlhood dreams were coming true.

She looked better than beautiful. And she felt it.

“Extra! Extra! Read all about it!”

Her vain inspection smashed to a halt with the intrusion of a squawking voice; it filtered through her thin window panes, a little, booming cry from the streets down below. Doing her best not to trip over her own feet—she couldn’t remember the last time she’d worn heels that weren’t her sturdy work boots—she scrambled for the window, stopping only for the briefest of moments to grab the READ ME copy of A Christmas Carol waiting on the sill. Costume firmly in place and book tucked under her arm, Kate opened the panes and looked down below, searching for the source of the newsboy cries.

Only, she didn’t see the source. Not at first. Instead, an uncontrollable, unstoppable gasp flew from the depths of her chest as she stared out at the town square. It was there. Everything was there. As if Clark Woodward never demanded they take down the sets and facades and decorations, the square looked picture-perfect and ready for Christmas. As she leaned out of her window, she realized she was leaning into Dickensian England, with all of its beauty and wonder.

They’d put it back. They’d put it all back. She just didn’t understand why. But there, on the corner between the facade of Marley and Scrooge’s office and the butcher’s shop, Kate spotted Susan Cho, a nine-year-old who played one of the Cratchit daughters in last year’s festival. Dressed in one of the countless street urchin outfits Kate put together over the years, she held a newspaper high over her head. From this angle, Kate couldn’t make out the headline or even if it came from Dallas or their stock of Dickens-specific recreations of London newspapers.

“Merry Christmas, London! Extra! Extra!”

“Susan! Come over here!”

As if she’d been walked through this a dozen times, Susan hustled down the block to stand beneath Kate’s window, tucking the newsprint under her arm. If this were the festival come back to life, Kate would have scolded her for getting newsprint on the costume, but her confusion and awe at the entire situation overtook any practical thought. It didn’t matter if the costumes got dirty or the fake newsprint smudged, not when there was so much outside at which she could marvel.

“Morning, miss!” Susan lisped through her two missing front teeth and tipped her newsboy cap. “What can I do for you?”

“What in the world is going on here?”