Chapter Four

JACOB

The windows rattled in their frames as the wind howled outside—a relentless banshee carrying with it a blinding flurry of snow. I could barely make out anything past the frosted panes; just swirling white chaos that told me the storm wasn’t letting up anytime soon.

The lights had flickered ominously before giving up entirely half an hour ago, plunging the already gloomy Barrington Manor into total darkness. My breath puffed out in visible clouds, and every creak of the old house seemed amplified in the heavy silence, each one making me question whether the ancient structure would hold against the storm's fury.

“Are you absolutely certain there’s no cell service?” Theodore asked for what felt like the fifth time, his polished shoes tapping an impatient rhythm on the worn marble floor as he paced the room. A deep scowl was etched into his face, his neatly trimmed mustache twitching with irritation.

“Positive,” I replied, suppressing a sigh as I stuffed the useless phone back into my pocket. “Unless you’ve suddenly become a human cell tower, we’re out of luck. Even if we did get a signal, I doubt anyone would brave this weather to come rescue us. We’re stuck here until the storm decides to take a nap.”

“Fantastic,” Theodore muttered, tugging his cashmere scarf tighter around his neck as if it could shield him from the reality of our situation.

Edna, in contrast, seemed utterly unfazed by the predicament. She stood by the grand staircase, her ornament-shaped earrings jingling softly with every slight movement as she adjusted her tinsel scarf—a tinsel scarf, of all things. Her eyes sparkled with a kind of mischief that made me both wary and amused. “I told you the storm wouldn’t stop me. Nothing halts the spread of Christmas cheer!”

Bailey let out a soft laugh, and the sound was enough to draw my gaze to her. Her cheeks were flushed pink from the cold, giving her a rosy glow that contrasted beautifully with her chestnut hair, which had escaped its usual confines to cascade over her shoulders in soft waves. Strands caught the dim light, creating a halo effect that was both enchanting and distracting.

“It’s only going to get colder,” she said, her voice steady and practical as always. That was Bailey—calm in the face of chaos. “We need to find blankets, candles, and anything we can use to keep warm. I wonder if there may be some logs stacked somewhere on the property that we could bring inside to light the hearth.”

“Or we could leave,” Theodore snapped, his tone dripping with impatience. “I, for one, have no intention of freezing to death in this mausoleum.”

I raised an eyebrow, crossing my arms over my chest. “Be my guest. Try the Cadillac. I’m sure it’ll handle snowdrifts taller than you with ease. Let me know how that works out.”

He glared at me, his eyes narrowing into slits. Before he could retort with whatever snide comment was brewing, Bailey interjected.

“We’re not going anywhere until this storm passes,” she said, her tone brooking no argument. “Let’s focus on what we can control and make the best of it.”

Edna clapped her gloved hands together, her face lighting up. “That’s the spirit, dear! Stuck together on a snowy evening—why, it’s practically a Christmas miracle!”

Theodore rolled his eyes so hard I was surprised they didn’t get stuck. “This is more like a nightmare,” he muttered under his breath.

Ignoring him, Bailey turned to me. “Jacob, why don’t you help me look for supplies? Edna, maybe you can check if there are any more fireplaces that can be used safely. Theodore…”

“I’ll supervise,” he declared firmly.

“Excellent,” I said dryly.

Bailey shot me a warning glance, but I could see the flicker of amusement in her eyes. “Let’s get moving,” she said.

The manor was enormous, each hallway stretching into shadowy, forgotten corners that whispered of decades—if not centuries—of neglect. The air was thick with the scent of dust and aged wood, tinged with a hint of something floral that had long since faded. Every step we took seemed to echo louder than it should, the sound bouncing off high ceilings and down empty corridors.

“This place gives me the creeps,” I muttered as we passed a room filled with cobweb-covered furniture draped in white sheets. It looked like a scene straight out of a horror movie.

Bailey glanced at me over her shoulder, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “Scared of a little old house, Jacob?”

“Not scared,” I defended, though I wasn’t entirely convinced myself. “Just cautious. I prefer my houses without the potential for ghostly inhabitants.”

She chuckled softly. “It has character.”

“Sure. If by ‘character’ you mean a haunted Scooby-Doo vibe,” I retorted, peering into a room where a grand piano stood silent and wondering how long its keys had remained untouched.

Her laughter echoed softly, warming the cold air around us. For a moment, I allowed myself to bask in the sound. It reminded me of simpler times—nights spent daring each other to sneak into the old, abandoned lighthouse by the harbor or sharing stories under the stars at the lake in summer.

We reached a door tucked away at the end of a narrow hallway. Bailey tried the tarnished brass handle, and to our surprise, it creaked open, revealing a steep staircase descending into darkness.

“You’re kidding,” I said, staring down into the inky blackness. “You want to go down there?”

She flashed me a challenging grin. “It’s probably the basement. Where else would they keep supplies? Unless you think the attic is a better option.”

“Attics, basements…both prime locations for horror movie clichés,” I mumbled, but I followed her as she began to descend.

The stairs protested under our weight; each step accompanied by a groan that made me question the structural integrity of the entire house. The temperature seemed to drop with every step, and I worried whether Bailey was warm enough, since I knew for certain I was not. However, I didn’t want to rock what tenuous boat we were in by expressing my concern, for fear she’d be offended and assume I was condescending or objectifying her or something. When it came to anyone else, I was always confident I knew exactly what to say, but when it came to the woman next to me, I found old insecurities rising that made me feel as awkward and incompetent as I had at sixteen.

Bailey held her phone in front of her, the flashlight casting a narrow beam that illuminated the damp stone walls and the cobwebs that hung like tattered curtains from the low ceiling.

“Watch your head,” she warned as a particularly large web threatened to ensnare me.

“Thanks,” I said, ducking just in time. “I really didn’t want to find out what kind of spiders inhabit this place.”

“Afraid of spiders now, too?” she teased.

“Not afraid. Just... respectfully cautious.”

She shook her head, her smile visible even in the dim light. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

“Neither have you,” I said softly, and for a moment, she paused, her eyes meeting mine and something unspoken passed between us.

Clearing her throat, she turned away. “Come on, we’re almost there.”

At the bottom of the stairs, we found ourselves in a cavernous storeroom. Both of us swept our phone’s flashlights across the space, revealing rows upon rows of shelves packed with bins, crates, and boxes.

“Whoa,” I breathed, taking in the sheer volume of items stored here. “This is... unexpected.”

Bailey stepped forward, her eyes widening as she examined the neatly labeled bins of Christmas decorations, everything from delicate glass ornaments to strings of multicolored lights. Stacks of thick, plush blankets occupied one corner, while crates filled with non-perishable food lined the walls. What was more, a large freezer sat in a corner that looked brand-new. Opening it, we both gasped to discover it stocked with everything from turkey and ham to breads, cheese, and vegetables.

“This...is not normal,” I said, crouching to inspect a box of croissants.

“It’s incredible,” Bailey whispered. “It’s like someone prepared for this exact situation or planned the ultimate Christmas party.”

“Or both,” I replied, standing up. “But who?”

“Someone did,” came Edna’s voice from the top of the stairs. We turned to see her descending as gracefully as she could in her gigantic boots that made her appear like she was wearing sheepdogs on her feet.

“You knew about this?” Bailey asked, astonishment coloring her tone.

Edna nodded enthusiastically. “Of course! I’ve been preparing for the Christmas Cat Sanctuary for years. You can’t run a festive haven for rescue cats without supplies. I stored everything here in anticipation of acquiring the manor.”

Theodore’s voice boomed from the top of the stairs. “You’ve been trespassing?”

Edna placed a hand on her hip, her eyes flashing. “It’s not trespassing if it’s meant to be mine, Theodore.”

“That’s not how the law works,” he snapped, his face turning an alarming shade of crimson. “This property is under foreclosure! You had no right to store your...your junk here!”

“Junk?” Edna gasped, clutching her tinsel scarf as if personally affronted. “How dare you! These are carefully curated items for the betterment of our community.”

Theodore stormed down the stairs, his polished shoes clicking sharply against the stone. “You’ve been undermining the entire process with these ridiculous plans. And now we’re stuck here because of your foolishness!”

“You’re stuck here because you didn’t check the weather report,” Edna shot back, her voice rising. “And you wouldn’t know a good idea if it bit you on the nose. This town needs something special, not another soulless commercial development!”

“Enough,” Bailey interjected firmly, stepping between them like a referee separating two boxers. “Arguing isn’t going to solve anything.”

I moved to stand beside her. “Agreed. We need to make the best of the situation. Edna, your supplies might just save us from freezing tonight.”

Theodore huffed but didn’t argue further, though his glare could have melted the snow outside.

“Jacob, do you think you can get the generator running?” Bailey asked, her eyes meeting mine with a hint of pleading.

I gave her a reassuring smile. “I can certainly try.”

“Always the hero,” she teased lightly.

“Just trying to impress,” I quipped, winking at her.

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at her lips.

I crouched beside the generator, brushing off layers of dust and cobwebs. It was an old model—sturdy but archaic. I flipped open the control panel, scanning the wiring and gauges.

“Think it’ll work?” Bailey asked, kneeling beside me.

“With a bit of luck and maybe a Christmas miracle,” I replied.

She held her flashlight steady, the beam illuminating the tangle of wires as I worked. Our shoulders brushed, and I was acutely aware of her proximity—the subtle scent of vanilla and something uniquely Bailey.

“Remember when we fixed up that old lawnmower engine for the science fair?” she mused.

I chuckled. “You mean when you insisted we could turn it into a mini go-kart, and we ended up nearly setting your backyard on fire?”

She laughed, the sound echoing softly. “Good times.”

“Indeed.” I found the fuel line, giving it a tentative tap. “Well, let’s hope this goes better than that.”

After a few adjustments, some muttered curses, and a hearty tug on the starter cord, the generator coughed to life. It sputtered for a moment before settling into a steady hum.

“Ta-da,” I announced, grinning triumphantly.

“Impressive,” Bailey said, her eyes shining. “Maybe you have hidden talents after all.”

“Maybe,” I replied, holding her gaze a moment longer than necessary.

Moments later, the house flickered to life. Strings of twinkling Christmas lights illuminated the main floor, casting the dusty furniture in a warm, festive glow. Edna’s preparations included setting up decorations—of course.

Edna clasped her hands together, her face alight with delight. “Oh, it’s beautiful!”

Theodore looked around, his expression caught somewhere between annoyance and reluctant appreciation. “This is...excessive,” he grumbled.

“It’s festive,” Edna corrected, giving him a pointed look. “Try to muster a bit of holiday spirit, Theodore. It won’t kill you. I remember a time when you actually loved Christmas.”

We began transporting the supplies upstairs, turning the grand living area into a makeshift base of operations. To keep everyone occupied, and to diffuse the lingering tension, Bailey suggested we continue decorating.

Edna was in her element, directing the placement of every tchotchke with the precision of a military general. Theodore unpacked boxes and waited dutifully for Edna’s guidance, and it was nice to see them finally figuring out a way to work together.

Bailey and I worked on hanging garlands, draping them along the banisters and framing the large windows that overlooked the snow-covered grounds. Our movements synchronized without effort, and it was both exhilarating and unsettling—like walking a tightrope between the past and present.

“Remember the year we decorated my family’s tree together?” Bailey asked softly, stepping back to assess our handiwork.

I smiled at the memory. “You mean the year you insisted on putting the star on top, even though you were too short to reach?”

She nudged me with her elbow. “That’s what you were for…a convenient ladder.”

“I seem to recall you almost toppled us both over.”

“Details,” she said with a dismissive wave. “We got the star up, didn’t we?”

“After nearly taking out half the tree, yes.”

She laughed, her hazel eyes crinkling at the corners. “I miss those days.”

“Me too,” I admitted, the confession slipping out before I could stop it.

She looked at me then, really looked, and for a heartbeat, the world narrowed to just the two of us.

Before I could say something, Edna called out.

“Bailey, dear, could you help me with these stockings? They’re not going to hang themselves!”

Bailey blinked, the moment broken. She offered me a small smile. “Duty calls.”

“Of course,” I said, stepping back as she moved to assist Edna.

I busied myself with looking for firewood, which I found stacked on the back porch. After hauling in several armfuls, I arranged them in the hearth along with some loose tinder and was pleased when the flame from Theodore’s lighter quickly lit a fire. After I’d stoked it a few times with the poker I’d found nearby, the flames were crackling merrily, casting dancing shadows across the room.

The scent of hot cocoa wafted through the air as Edna produced a kettle and began preparing drinks using the supplies from her stash.

“Gather round, everyone!” she called cheerfully. “Nothing warms the soul like cocoa and good company.”

Theodore and I dragged several armchairs closer to the fire and Bailey handed out mugs while we all settled in again.

We sipped in companionable silence for a while, the warmth seeping through the ceramic and into our chilled fingers.

Edna, never one for quiet, began regaling us with the tale of her first rescue cat, Jingle.

“He appeared on my porch one snowy Christmas Eve when I was alone and feeling rather sorry for myself,” she said, her eyes misty with fondness. “A scraggly little thing with the biggest green eyes you ever did see. I took him in, and he became my constant companion.”

“That’s a lovely story,” Bailey said, her gaze soft.

Theodore huffed but surprised us all by sharing his own memory. “When I was a boy, my grandmother had an advent calendar she cherished. Handcrafted, with little wooden doors and tiny treats inside. Every year, I’d sneak extra chocolates when she wasn’t looking.”

Bailey grinned. “I never would’ve pegged you as a troublemaker, Mr. Snowcroft.”

He gave a half-smile. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Miss Pace.”

I noticed Edna gazing at Theodore with an odd look on her face and if I wasn’t mistaken, her eyes grew even more watery.

The conversation flowed more easily after that, stories and laughter filling the space. The storm outside seemed a distant worry, the howling wind muted by the thick walls and the warmth of our gathering.

As the evening wore on, I found myself stealing glances at Bailey across the firelight. She was engaged in a spirited debate with Edna about the merits of traditional versus modern Christmas carols.

Her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm; her gestures animated. The soft glow of the fire highlighted the delicate curve of her cheek, the way her lips curved when she smiled.

I felt a familiar ache—a longing for what I’d left behind that I’d been burying ever since the day I said goodbye. Somehow, the past I hadn’t been brave enough to face had caught up with me.

The afternoon wore on, and finally Theodore excused himself to find a bedroom for a nap. Edna went downstairs to search for supplies to come up with a dinner menu, eager to start on the preparations. Bailey told her she’d join her in a few minutes to help.

That left the two of us alone, the fire crackling softly, the room bathed in a gentle glow.

Bailey leaned back in her chair, a contented sigh escaping her lips. “This turned out to be a surprisingly nice day,” she said.

“Not what you expected when you woke up this morning, I imagine,” I replied.

She chuckled. “Not at all. But sometimes the best moments are the unplanned ones.”

“Agreed.”

Silence settled between us, comfortable yet charged with unspoken words.

She glanced at me, her eyes reflecting the dancing flames. “Jacob...”

“Yeah?”

“Do you ever wonder how things might have been different?” she asked softly.

“Every day,” I admitted.

She looked down at her hands, fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve. “To tell you the truth, I was angry when you left. Thought you didn’t care.”

“I did care,” I said, leaning forward. “More than you know. But I was young, stupid, and thought I needed to prove something to myself.”

“Mom died a little over a year ago,” Bailey whispered.

Her words hit me like a punch in the gut. “What?” I gasped, moving to her at once.

“Cancer,” she continued, her eyes filling with tears. “She fought for a few years, but then there wasn’t any more the doctors could do.”

“Oh my God,” I said as I wrapped her in my arms. “I’m so sorry, Bailey. I didn’t know, or I would have come home.”

She sniffled and pulled back, a sad smile on her face. “That’s okay. Dad and I soldiered through it, but it’s been hard of course.”

I cupped her cheek with my hand, wishing I could do something—anything—to take away her pain.

“Bailey!” Edna’s voice came from downstairs. “Could I get you to help me bring up these potatoes? I’m thinking we’ll have stew tonight.”

“Coming!” Bailey called, turning for the stairs. Glancing back at me over her shoulder, she gave me a tender smile.

“It’s nice to see you again, Jacob,” she said.

Alone, I gazed into the fire as an avalanche of emotions tumbled over me, making me question everything I thought I knew.