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A customer picks up one of the bears with a little wooden book and turns it over reverently. “Do you make these yourself?” she asks.

Marco smiles. “Every single one of them is hand-carved by me.”

The customer’s mouth gapes. “You’re so talented. Let me go find my husband so he can help me pick, but I think you’ve just solved all my Christmas-gift problems for this year.”

“I’ll be here,” he says with a charming smile.

Someone else steps up to the booth, pointing at another bear carving, so I slip away and let him work.

I keep walking. Mrs. Peterson’s wreath stall has a small crowd around it. She looks delighted at all the attention her stall is getting.

Everything looks so much better than I could have imagined. The town center always looks absolutely magical around Christmas, before and during the festival, but not having the space restriction has definitely opened more options.

“Griffin.”

I turn and see my parents making their way toward me along the path. Mom is bundled in her teal winter coat, her cheeks pink. Dad has a cider in each hand and passes one to me without asking.

“Here you go, son. To warm you up.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Finn, honey.” Mom pulls me into a hug that smells like the comfort of home. When she pulls back, her eyes are shining. “Everything looks so beautiful, honey.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

Dad puts a hand on the back of my neck and squeezes once. “You did something special here, son. Really. Look at this.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Come find us later. Your mother already said she wants to buy more wreaths than we have doors for.”

Mom smacks his arm, and they wander off toward Mrs. Peterson’s stall.

The sky is starting to shift toward twilight, so the lights along the path are already glowing, but the main tree isn’t lit yet.

I look at the time on my tablet. I have twenty minutes to do the final sound check before the mayor does his speech and lights the Christmas tree, so I head toward the stage.

Meredith is already there, headset on, tablet in hand, testing microphone levels with one of the sound techs. When she sees me, she gestures me over.

“The levels are good and they’ve cued up the audio for the countdown. The lighting board is standing by. All we need is the signal, and we’re good to go.”

“Thanks, Meredith.”

Mayor Caldwell appears from the direction of the food tent a minute later.

“Griffin, I just wanted to say, before I get up on that stage, that what you and your team have done here is nothing short of remarkable. This one is going to be remembered for a long time.”

I nod because I don’t know what else to say. Mayor Caldwell has always been a good mayor to work for. He loves this town as much as I do. Him saying those words makes all the late nights, endless phone calls, and lists that had lists worthwhile.

Mayor Caldwell keeps his speech short but makes sure to thank everyone involved in the production.

The crowd has thickened around the base of the tree, eager to see the tree and festival grounds come to life with all the lights turning on at the same time.

Fox appears at my elbow. He’s got my scarf tucked into his coat and his hands are in his pockets.

“Hi,” he says quietly.

“Hi.”