December 25, Wednesday

THE GUESTS began to arrive early. Kelly beamed as she introduced me to Dilbert. Uncle Pete and Coleman took charge of the drinks table. Soon Whisper House glowed with warmth and light, its long-shuttered dining room transformed by candlelight and evergreen garlands. Sawyer's ham had been a big hit as well as Kelly's cornbread dressing and Coleman's sweet potato pie. Franny and Dora came bearing casseroles. When Tilda appeared, she seemed tentative in front of the crowd, until I extended his hands in welcome.

"I'm so glad you could come," I said, and she seemed to relax.

Now, as everyone lingered over dessert, the conversation flowed as freely as the wine. Coleman regaled us with tales of Irving's past while Reverend Abernathy contributed historical corrections between sips of communion-grade Merlot. Kelly and Uncle Pete debated the merits of different pie crusts.

Muriel had surprised everyone by arriving in a spectacular purple velvet dress that she claimed was "older than most of you young'uns." She brought a large jar of bronze-colored honey with the white comb still in the jar. I seated her in a place of honor where she dispensed folklore and wisdom in equal measure.

"Your gingerbread creation is magnificent," Sawyer said, studying the elaborate Victorian replica Kelly and I had made. "Even got the wraparound porch right."

"Kelly's the genius," I said. "I just held things together while she worked her magic."

"Still," he looked around the candlelit room, his eyes soft. "It's good to see this place full of life again. These walls have waited a long time for laughter."

He clinked his glass for attention. "A toast," he announced. "To Josephine, an outsider who somehow managed to bring all of us together."

"Here, here," Coleman called, raising his glass.

My cheeks warmed and I nodded my thanks to everyone gathered. My heart was so full, I couldn't speak. I took a picture in my mind so I'd always remember this moment.

As everyone began gathering coats and leftovers, murmuring about heading home, a familiar panic gripped my chest. How many more meals would we share? How many more chances to be together like this?

"Wait," I said, perhaps too loudly. "What about New Year's Eve?"

They all turned to look at me.

"We should do this again," I rushed on. "Ring in 2025 together. Here, at Whisper House."

But everyone was nodding, already planning what to bring. Kelly immediately started listing appetizer possibilities while Dilbert offered to bring fireworks. I noticed she was holding onto his arm as they left.

After the last guest departed, Sawyer pulled me close.

"I have something for you," he said softly.

From behind his back, he produced a small package wrapped in simple brown paper. I unwrapped it carefully to reveal a stone sculpture, small enough to hold in my palms but carved with exquisite detail – a woman holding a book to her heart, her face peaceful, serene.

"Sawyer," I breathed. "It's beautiful."

"She reminded me of you," he said, his fingers brushing mine as I traced the delicate folds of the figure's dress. "The way you lose yourself in stories. The way you hold them close."

I looked up at him, my heart so full it hurt. "Thank you."

His kiss tasted of wine and… promises? When we finally parted, he smiled, then nodded to the window.

I turned my head, then gasped. "It's snowing!"

"Well, look at that," he said, pulling me close. "Looks like you got your small miracle after all."

My heart unfurled with awe as I wondered… no, Sawyer couldn't have made it snow…

Could he?

I leaned my head against his chest and sighed. It didn’t matter.