Something had happened. Or was happening. And no one had told Kate about it. Her stomach dropped too far for her to pick it back up. She glanced sidelong at Miss Carolyn. She was a rock of consistency and positivity. If there was a North Star in this room, she would be it.

But when Kate looked, there was no guiding light to follow. Miss Carolyn’s rosy cheeks sunk into a pale shade of gray. Her eyes hardened. Dread prickled the hairs on the back of Kate’s neck. If whatever happened was enough to rankle their leader, it could only mean one of two things. Either someone had died, or they were getting shut down.

“Good evening.”

Kate’s head snapped to the front of the room, where a hastily constructed podium and a microphone stood. Too distracted by her friends and neighbors, she hadn’t noticed the setup when she walked in, but now it was all she could do to even blink. Behind the podium stood a solitary man. Against the white walls of the atrium, his black suit and golden hair stood out with the entrancing shock of an abstract painting, as if he were nothing more than lonely brushstrokes on a canvas.

He was also, as far as Kate could see, the only person in the room without an identifiable expression in his face. For someone so young—he couldn’t have been more than a few years older than her, if that—he had the practiced look of a lifelong poker player. She wouldn’t have stood a chance against him in a game of Hold ’Em. His natural state seemed to be one of stone. Worse still, when he spoke, she realized it wasn’t just a skin-deep distinction. His unavailable emotions went all the way to his core.

“My name is Clark Woodward, and it’s my sad duty to inform you that my uncle, Christopher Woodward, passed away last month.”

Gasps from every corner of the room, including Kate’s. Mr. Woodward was a good, kind man. He lived in Dallas, but he made time every month to come and visit the ranches in Miller’s Point, and of course he visited the festival every year. He even played Scrooge in the festival once, after the real Scrooge took ill and couldn’t get out of bed. What he lacked in acting skills, he made up for with the biggest heart in all of Texas. Kate cracked at the news, but the young man behind the podium held his hand up for quiet, effectively silencing them with a single gesture. He wasn’t done yet.

“As the new CEO of my uncle’s company, it is also my duty to inform you that we will be shutting down The Christmas Company subsidiary, effective immediately.”