The clatter of the front door opening echoed through the sitting room, interrupting my quiet focus on the sketch in front of me.

Mayor Evelyn’s voice followed, as crisp and purposeful as ever. “Isla? Are you there?”

“In the sitting room!” I called, adding the last touch of shading to the banner draped across the top of the illustration.

She swept in moments later, her scarf still wrapped loosely around her neck and her cheeks flushed from the cold. “Oh, good—you’re not hiding. I just came from the town hall, and let me tell you, people are absolutely raving about your poster. I overheard three people saying it’s the best we’ve ever had.”

I shrugged, though her words warmed something inside me. “It’s just a poster.”

“It’s not just a poster,” Evelyn said firmly. “It’s an invitation to the season. It’s festive, it’s elegant—it’s art.”

Before I could respond, the door opened again. This time, a cold gust of air and the sound of boots stomping against the mat announced Graham’s arrival. “Isla, you’ve gotta tell Noah he’s not invincible. Pretty sure the kid’s on his way to building a snowball empire out there.”

He walked into the sitting room, shaking snow from his hair, "And I think I'm starting to get bruises from his ice balls" he groaned, "We have created a snow monster!" His last sentence ran out slowly as he stopped short when he spotted Evelyn sitting with me. His broad shoulders filled the doorway, but his expression was open and friendly. “Oh, hi.”

Evelyn’s gaze snapped to him, her sharp eyes narrowing briefly in recognition before widening. “You must be Graham.”

“That’s me,” he said, holding out his hand. “And you must be...?

"Evelyn Jenkins, the mayor." She held out a hand and Graham shook it dutifully.

“I heard that your team got stuck here during the storm,” she said, grasping his hand in both of hers. “And you, young man, are quite the star.”

Graham looked momentarily confused. “Uh…I don’t know about that.”

“Oh, don’t be modest,” Evelyn said, smiling broadly. “A goalie, isn’t that right? I’ve read about you—what’s the team? St. John’s? The Beakers?”

“The Breakers,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “But I wouldn't consider us stars, we're just a bunch of guys trying to win a banner.”

“Still,” she said, undeterred, “you’ve made quite the impression. My nephew follows hockey religiously, and he’s mentioned you more than once. Stopping twenty-nine shots in one game, wasn’t it?”

Graham blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Uh, yeah, that was a good one.”

I smirked, leaning back in my chair. “Congratulations, Graham. You’ve officially impressed the mayor.”

Evelyn waved me off, her attention still on him. “You’ll have to come to the tree lighting. The whole town will be thrilled to meet someone of your caliber. You could even say a few words.”

Graham’s brows shot up. “A speech?”

“Just something short,” she said, clasping her hands together. “Inspiration for the children.”

“Oh, I don’t think—” he started, but I jumped in, cutting him off.

“He’s terrible at public speaking,” I said quickly, suppressing a grin. “You don’t want to put him through that.”

Graham shot me a look. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Evelyn sighed, clearly disappointed. “Well, perhaps another time. But you should still come to the event. It’s the highlight of the Christmas season here in Twillingate.”

“I’ll think about it,” Graham said, smiling politely.

“Do more than think,” Evelyn replied, giving him a pointed look before turning back to me. “And Isla, your poster is perfection. Truly.” She patted my shoulder warmly, then swept out of the room, leaving the faint scent of peppermint in her wake.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Graham let out a low whistle and dropped into the armchair across from me. “She’s…a force of nature.”

“Welcome to her world,” I said, laughing. “You handled it well.”

“Did I?” He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “She’s ready to turn me into a motivational speaker.”

I grinned. “I'm pretty sure you’d hate that.”

“Absolutely,” he said. “But this tree lighting thing…what’s the deal? She made it sound like a big deal.”

“It’s not,” I said quickly, fiddling with the pencils scattered across the table. “Just your typical small-town holiday thing. Carols, cookies, fireworks, Santa shows up, the mayor gives a speech—”

“Fireworks?” he asked, cutting me off.

“Yes, there are fireworks,” I admitted. “And they light the big tree in the center of town. It’s nice. That’s all.”

Graham tilted his head, his lips quirking into that lopsided grin that always made my stomach flip. “You like it.”

“It’s fine,” I said, avoiding his gaze.

“No, you like it,” he said, leaning forward slightly. “Your face just lit up like—a Christmas tree!” He barked out a quick laugh at his own joke.

I rolled my eyes. “It’s…nostalgic, okay? When I was a kid, it felt like Christmas didn’t really start until the tree lighting. Everyone in town came out, and for a little while, everything felt perfect.” I hesitated, suddenly self-conscious. “It’s just a tradition.”

“It sounds like a good one,” he said, his voice softer now. “You should let yourself enjoy it.”

I glanced at him, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. “I don’t have a lot of time to think about stuff like that.”

“You should,” he said simply, holding my gaze. “Sometimes it’s okay to just…enjoy things.”

The warmth of his words settled over me, and for a moment, I couldn’t look away. He smiled faintly, and I felt something stir in my chest—something I wasn’t ready to name.

“Well,” I said, breaking the moment, “if you’re coming, be careful. Evelyn will probably find a way to make you the guest of honor.”

“I’ll take my chances,” he said, standing and stretching. “But if she hands me a microphone, I’m handing it to you.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Hand it to Noah, he loves a captive audience.”

"Deal," he said, smiling that smile at me again. What was I getting myself into?