Around six o’clock, I was outside stacking new bins on the crush pad when I heard someone call my name. Surprised that anyone would be out here at this hour in the frigid dark, I walked around to the front of the winery.

Sylvia stood near the tasting room door, shivering in the cold without a fucking coat on, arms wrapped around herself. “Hey!” she called, spotting me. “I was looking for you!”

I jogged toward her, unzipping my jacket. “What’s going on? Everything okay?”

“Yes, but my God, it’s freezing!” She hopped back and forth from one foot to another.

Quickly I took off my Carhartt and held it out for her to slip her arms in. “Put this on. Don’t argue.”

She shrugged it on, and we hurried inside the tasting room with her swimming in my giant coat. After shutting the door behind us, I switched on every single light—I did not trust myself alone in the dark with her.

“Sheesh!” Sylvia blew on her hands. “It’s even colder than last night! I can’t feel my face! What is it, like ten below?”

“It’s actually about twenty-five, but it’s still too cold to be running around without a coat.” I set my hat and gloves on a high-top table and ran a hand through my matted hair. “What were you doing out there?”

“Looking for you. We’re all at my parents’ for dinner and someone asked where you were. I volunteered to come get you.”

“Without a coat?”

“The house is roasting—I’ve been cooking all day and I was so hot. And don’t change the subject.” She fished a hand out of the sleeve of my jacket and scolded me with one finger. “You said you’d come to dinner.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “I said I’d think about it.”

“And did you?”

“Yes. But I can’t come.”

“Why not?”

I shrugged. “I’m working.”

Sylvia rolled her eyes. “It’s Christmas, Henry! Take a break!”

“It’s not Christmas yet.”

“It is in our house. Starting today, the inn is officially closed to guests for a whole week, and that means Christmas vacation at Cloverleigh Farms starts right now.” She held up both hands, but they were lost in my sleeves. “I can appreciate that you want to wait for Jesus’s actual birthday to celebrate, but I feel certain he will not mind if you come have dinner with us tonight. In fact, he wants you to. He told me.”

I laughed. “Jesus told you he wants me to come have dinner with you?”

“Yes. He said you’ve been working too hard.”

“I feel like Jesus has more important things to worry about.”