Page 31 of Mistletoe and Magic

"Actually," she hesitated, wiping the flour from her hands, "I was hoping to talk to you about something important."

"Of course, dear. What's on your mind?" The mayor's expression softened into one of concern, sensing the shift in Felicity's demeanor.

"It's Jace," Felicity began, her voice barely more than a whisper, as if saying his name louder might make the realityof his troubles more tangible. "He needs our help. The lodge is in trouble, and I thought... maybe we could have an emergency town meeting? See if we can't come together for him?"

"Jace? Bless his heart." The mayor's brow creased. "An emergency meeting is a splendid idea. We'll do it at City Hall. This evening sound good?"

"Tonight? Yes, that would be wonderful." Relief washed over Felicity in a warm tide. "Thank you."

"Anything for one of our own," the mayor affirmed with a decisive nod. "You spread the word, and I'll get everything arranged. We'll fill the community room with concerned hearts and open minds."

"Thank you," Felicity repeated, her gratitude echoing in the small confines of the bakery.

By evening, the community room in City Hall had transformed into a hive of hushed conversations and furrowed brows. Villagers filled every available chair, some leaning against walls or crowding near the entrance. Murmurs of concern stitched a quilt of collective anxiety that settled heavily over the space.

Felicity stood at the back, her pulse thrumming in her ears as she surveyed the turnout. She'd spent the day spreading the word, her usual reticence giving way to an impassioned urgency that surprised even her. She was a baker, a would-be writer, a dreamer—not a leader. Yet here she was, trying to rally the town to action.

"Looks like the whole valley showed up," Mr. Puck whispered beside her, his presence a steadying force amidst the chaos.

"Seems so," Felicity murmured back, her gaze flitting across the sea of faces, each one etched with varying degrees of worryand determination. It was a portrait of a community united by a common cause, painted in real-time.

"Did I ever tell you about the first Christmas after I opened my store?" Mr. Puck continued, his voice low and soothing. "The snow was so heavy that year; we thought we'd be buried until spring. But then, the whole town came together—shovels in hand, laughter in the air. That's the magic of Christmas Valley, Felicity. It's not just in the snow globes or the clock in the village square or even the festive lights we put up at the holidays. It's the people."

"Magic," Felicity repeated softly, allowing herself to believe, if only for that night, that perhaps there was something extraordinary woven into the fabric of this place, something that might just save a lodge and, with it, herself. But the real question was: from which reality would she be saving herself?

Felicity's hands trembled slightly as she clutched the stack of her carefully prepared notecards, each one with a bullet point about the Northwind Lodge and its importance to Christmas Valley. She stepped up to the makeshift podium, the wood creaking under her weight, and faced the crowd. The scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with a tangible current of anxiety that seemed to charge the air around her.

"Um, thank you all for coming tonight," Felicity began, her voice steadier than she felt. Her eyes met Jace's across the room, his green gaze holding a silent question as to what this was all about. She knew if she’d told Jace this was about him and the lodge, he’d never have allowed it. "I know those of us who know Jace have been worried about the Northwind Lodge, but I want us to remember how vital it is to our community."

She flipped through her notecards, each word she spoke painting a vivid picture of the lodge's role in Christmas Valley's life. How it drew tourists who filled their shops, the annual festivals hosted on its grounds, the countless memories madeby the fireside. With each point, her confidence grew, her voice taking on a strength and passion she rarely allowed herself to showcase.

As if animated by her newfound zeal, townsfolk began to rise from their seats, sharing their own tales of the lodge. An elderly couple recounted renewing their vows beneath the twinkling lights of the grand hall; a young mother spoke of her child's first successful ski down the bunny slope, cheeks flushed with pride. At first, Jace had seemed embarrassed to be the subject of the meeting, but as people spoke, the look of hurt pride gave way to one of acceptance.

"During the short time he’s been here, Jace has never hesitated to help any of us," Felicity continued, her heart swelling at the chorus of agreement that rippled through the crowd. "Now it's our turn to return that kindness."

“But what about that development group. They say they can bring in at least ten times more business than just a family-owned lodge,” said the bank manager from the back.

“That might be true, but at what cost?” asked Felicity. “Do we really want Christmas Valley to become another Jackson Hole or Aspen?”

The crowd murmured in agreement. From that, the meeting turned into a lively brainstorming session, ideas bouncing like sparks among the villagers. They discussed fundraisers, volunteer repair crews, even a social media campaign to attract more visitors. And through it all, Felicity stood at the forefront, directing the energy, her own creativity igniting new strategies.

She surprised herself, this woman who shied away from public speaking, now orchestrating the salvation of a cherished place. Her words didn't just echo in the community room; they resonated in the very core of her being, awakening a leader within that she never knew existed.

"Look at what we can achieve when we come together," Felicity said, her eyes alight with a fire that mirrored the determination in every face before her. "Let's save the Northwind. Let's save Christmas Valley."

And as the applause erupted around her, for the first time, Felicity felt the true importance of belonging—not just as an observer or a dreamer, but as an integral thread woven into the tapestry of Christmas Valley.

As the last of her words lingered in the charged atmosphere, Felicity caught the eye of the mayor. The older woman's face was lit with a warmth that reached out and wrapped around Felicity like an embrace. Her eyes glimmered with unspoken pride as she turned to share a knowing look with Mr. Puck, who stood at the back of the room, his usually enigmatic expression softened into a nod of quiet approval.

Felicity's breath hitched, the moment revealing layers of this reality she had yet to uncover. This place held more secrets than the mysteries nestled in the pages of the books she cherished. There was a magic here, tangible and potent, woven through the very fabric of the town and its people—a magic that now seemed to acknowledge her role within it.

She had come to Christmas Valley by some means still unknown to her—a muse perhaps for her unfinished novel. Yet, as she looked out over the faces of the villagers—her neighbors—she understood that she'd become a living character in their collective story. She wasn't just the writer; she was part of the narrative, a vital character whose actions rippled with consequence and meaning.

The realization was as startling as it was empowering. Felicity was almost overwhelmed with the sensation of being rooted in something greater than herself. The walls she had built in her other life, the ones that safeguarded her from the risk oftrue belonging, began to crumble under the recognition of her newfound purpose.

"Thank you, everyone," she said, her voice carrying a tremor of emotion. "I know that together, we can save not just the Northwind, but the very heart of our community."

There was an electricity to the closeness of the townsfolk as they rallied around her ideas, their enthusiastic whispers merging with memories of the past and dreams for the future. In that moment, embraced by the feelings that enveloped her, Felicity accepted the truth: she wasn't playing a role anymore. She was where she had always been meant to be.

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