Page 32 of Mistletoe and Magic

The meeting dissolved into a gentle chaos of camaraderie and shared purpose, leaving Felicity feeling like she was adrift in a sea of contentment. It was in this buoyant atmosphere that Mr. Puck approached her, his sharp eyes twinkling behind the spectacles perched on his nose.

"Miss Hart," he said, his voice carrying the hush of fallen snow, "might I steal you away for a moment? There's something at my store that requires your attention."

"Of course, Mr. Puck." She followed him, her pulse quickening with the anticipation of uncovering more secrets of Christmas Valley. The night air outside was crisp, biting at her flushed cheeks as they made their way down the sidewalk to his clockwork shop.

Once inside, the scent of freshly oiled gears and mystery enveloped her. Mr. Puck led her to the back of the store, where the snow globe clock that had so fascinated her sat on a shelf. Its intricate details seemed to dance under the warm glow of the overhead lights.

"Your interest in this piece," he began, his fingers tracing the glass sphere, "tells me there's more to you than meets the eye, Felicity."

She leaned closer, her breath fogging the glass slightly as she gazed at the miniature world within. "It's beautiful," she whispered, lost in the swirling snow that seemed to fall perpetually over the tiny village inside.

"Indeed," Mr. Puck agreed. "But it's more than just a trinket. This clock is a symbol of the magic that binds Christmas Valley. A magic that is now reaching out to you."

"Reaching out to me?" Felicity echoed, confusion lacing her words. Her heart throbbed in her chest, a mix of fear and excitement mingling within her.

"Christmas Valley has always had a way of choosing those who can see its wonders," Mr. Puck explained, his gaze steady on her face. "You've brought new life to our town, rallied us together when we needed it most. And now, the valley wants to offer you something in return."

Felicity looked up at him in question and expectation.

“A choice.” He paused, allowing his words to settle like the first snowflakes of winter. "You can continue living here, as you have been, enjoying the simple pleasures and community spirit, and embrace the true essence of our village. Or..." He hesitated, as if weighing the gravity of his next words, "you can return to your other reality where your dreams of becoming a famous author will be granted. Be warned, however, either choice will come at a price and will change everything."

"Change everything how?" The question came out barely above a whisper, her internal storm of doubt and desire raging as fiercely as any blizzard.

Mr. Puck smiled, a knowing, ancient expression that seemed to hold centuries of secrets. "If you stay, you'll become a part of its magic, its story. Your fate forever intertwined with the destiny of this place. But if you choose to leave, it will be as if you never were."

“How long do I have to decide?”

“You have to decide before the stroke of midnight on either Christmas or New Year’s Eve. It the tower clock in the village square rings its last knell to make the beginning of the new year, you will remain in Christmas Valley.”

Felicity's thoughts swirled like the snow in the globe. The idea of being so deeply connected to something was both terrifying and exhilarating. She realized then that Christmas Valley offered her not just a haven for inspiration but a chance to belong—to be part of a narrative much greater than any novel she could hope to write. It was an invitation to step into a life where reality and fantasy were indistinguishably woven together, each thread a testament to the enchantment of the Valley.

19

JACE

Jace stood in the heart of the lodge’s firepit area with its enormous bonfire, the chill of the evening nipping at his exposed skin as he watched the townspeople bustling around with an intense focus that warmed him more than any coat could. He couldn’t believe they were all there for the lodge, his lodge. He supposed this was one of the differences between living in a small town in Vermont and a big city like Boston. He loved Boston, but he realized Christmas Valley had become home. The unwavering support of those around him was like a beacon in the frosty night. Amidst the crowd, Felicity was a constant presence, her belief in him a tangible thing that made him feel humble. He wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve her, but he thanked every power that was that he had been gifted her.

"Can you believe this?" she asked, as she sidled up to him, her eyes shining with something that looked like pride and perhaps something more—something neither had possessed the courage to say out loud.

Jace turned to meet her gaze, feeling an odd mix of vulnerability and strength. "I can't," he admitted. "It's...overwhelming."

"Good overwhelming, I hope." Felicity's smile was gentle, the corners of her mouth tipped with the satisfaction of shared effort.

"Absolutely," he murmured, though his mind was far from peaceful. The weight of Candace Prescott's shadow loomed over them, the balloon payment an unspoken dread between them.

"Jace?" The bank manager's voice cut through the chatter and laughter, a discordant note that had Jace's muscles tensing. "Can we talk?"

"Of course." Jace excused himself from Felicity's comforting presence and moved toward the bank manager, a leaden feeling settling in his stomach.

"Jace, it's about the lodge," the bank manager began, his face etched with concern. "Candace Prescott has bought your note. She's not the type to wait on her money."

"Damn her timing," Jace muttered. He felt the December cold seep into his bones. "What's her play?"

"She's pressing for a final settlement. If you can't make the balloon payment by New Year's Eve—one minute before midnight—you'll lose everything," he explained, each word a sledgehammer to Jace's hope.

"Midnight on New Year's Eve..." Jace's voice trailed off, his mind whirring with calculations and possibilities.

"Think about it, son." The bank manager clapped a hand on his shoulder, a gesture of sympathy that Jace hardly felt.

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