“I didn’t find Carlette, but I did find an old photo of her, sitting on Santa’s lap,” Ivy said.

She filled Phoebe in on the cache she’d discovered in Santa Bob’s old trunk.

“I wonder if there’s an old photo of me in there?” Phoebe said. “Mama and Daddy always took me to Atkins to see Santa when I was little.”

“Could be,” Ivy said. “Looking at all those vintage images, I got inspired. And I might have gotten myself a new client.” She took a bite of the chicken and dumplings.

“Mmmm,” she said. “Worth every calorie.”

“Don’t!” Phoebe begged. “Tell me about the new client.”

“Have you ever had any PepperyMints from Langley Sweets?” Ivy asked.

“Sure. My grandmother loves their Cinnamon Twists. And I used to love their peppermint fudge.”

“Right. Anyway, the first time I visited Lawrence Jones, he gave me a piece of their dark chocolate peppermint candies. You know I don’t eat sweets, right? But he insisted I taste one—and I was amazed. They’re really so unique. Not like anything I’ve ever tasted before. I looked up the company on the internet, and their branding was just so pathetic—stale and utterly charmless. I sort of fell down the rabbit hole. The next thing you know, I was designing a new advertising and social media campaign for the company.”

“And?” Phoebe prompted, stabbing listlessly at the edge of a lettuce leaf.

“I just came from the candy shop. I met Nancy Langley Bergstrom and pitched her my idea. She wasn’t too enthusiastic at first, but then, with me using my irresistible charm and salesmanship—plus the offer of doing the work for free—she gave in.”

“Cool!” Phoebe said. “But you’re doing all that work for free?”

“I’ve been in a bit of a creative lull lately,” Ivy admitted. She pushed a bit of dumpling around on her plate, not wanting to own up to the sting of losing her biggest client. “But once I tasted that candy—and I saw all those great old vintage graphics—I was just so inspired, I went into a kind of full-tilt binge. I stayed up working all night. I couldn’t stop myself.”

“I can’t wait to see it,” Phoebe said.

“Nancy’s going to build a new display in the shop, using some of the old Santa photos and Christmas cards and letters,” Ivy said. “You’ll have to go by the candy store and check it out.”

“I’ll look, but I don’t dare go inside,” Phoebe said. “Just the smell of that fudge could undo all my hard work. Okay, back to the farmhouse. Did your furniture arrive yet? Have you started fixing it up yet? How are the chickens?”

Ivy sighed. “Well, my furniture got waylaid—it was sent to Florida. So I’ve been sleeping on a mattress on the floor and making do with the kitchen table and chair the Roses’ son-in-law left behind. I’m already regretting donating the rest of the old furniture to the community thrift store.”

“Oh no.”