Zeke

The chime of his phone startled Zeke out of his dream. He hadn't realized he'd dozed off in his train seat or that his phone had slipped out of his hand. At least no one had stolen it—though he wasn't too surprised. Winter Grove seemed like the kind of goody-two-shoes place where people returned wallets with the cash still inside.

He looked at the screen. It was a message from a number he didn't recognize. He had a good guess, though, who it might be, especially when the message preview read...

Please listen. It wasn't what it looked like...

He swiped at the screen—harder than was necessary—and dismissed the message. He'd block the new number later.

He didn't know why she was still trying.

He told her he was done.

He slid his phone into the pocket of his coat and turned back to the frosted window. The train was pulling into Winter Grove station. It was an old-fashioned little station, thoroughly decorated, practically dripping with lights, baubles, and wintergreen garland.

It was like the place was trying to rub in the fact the town was the holliest and jolliest place in the world.

Zeke grimaced, his scowl reflected in the icy glass.

The train gave a heave and stopped. All around, people leaped to their feet, pulled down their carry-ons, and headed out to the platform. Zeke lingered, unwilling to fight through the crowds just to be the first out into the cold. He missed the temperate weather of San Francisco... but the idea of going back made his chest ache.

Once the train car was almost empty, he got up and made his way towards the exit. But an old couple was ahead of him, blocking the way. They were taking their time descending from the train car, assisted by staff.

Zeke stifled a sigh. Already irritated, he just wanted to get out of there.

"Sorry, dear!" the wife cheered to him. She was entirely decked out in festive wear—bright red coat, holly patterned scarf, her white cotton-puff hair tucked into an emerald sequin beret. "We move a bit slower these days. We'll be out of your way in a jiff."

"It's fine," Zeke said, taking a deep breath. If he wasn't careful, he'd turn into a real Scrooge. "Take your time."

"That's so kind of you, sonny!" the husband said with a chuckle, his white mustache twitching. He had made it to the platform and turned back to help his wife. "Believe me, if we could move faster, we would! We can't wait to be back in Winter Grove!"

"Yes, we come here every year!" the wife chirped, wobbling as her husband and two porters helped her off the train car. "We've visited for the past fifteen years, in fact! We never miss the opening night of the Christmas Tree Festival. It's the highlight of our holidays!"

"It truly is," the husband added. "Is this your first time in Winter Grove?"

"No," Zeke said, finally stepping onto the platform. His breath swirled in white clouds as the frost nipped at his ears. "I've been here once before, but not in the winter."

His mind flashed back to when he helped his parents move his little sister into the dorms freshman year. He remembered the unseasonably hot September and his annoyance that his sister's room was on the top floor of a building with no elevator...

Winter Grove hadn't exactly impressed him then.

"Well, then, you're in for a treat!" the husband said, her smile widening as she glanced around the lavishly decorated station. "Winter is when this town shines. And I swear, the Christmas Tree Festival gets better every year."

"You'll love it! The town is just so... charming!"

Zeke struggled to hold back his scowl. "I've heard that."

"Well, enjoy your time here!" the husband said, leading his wife away across the platform towards a waiting hotel shuttle. "And Merry Christmas!"

Zeke waved them off. He waited until they were out of eyesight to unleash a huge groan.

Charming. He'd heard that one word a thousand times since he'd started his journey to this town.

Getting smothered in ice and snow was charming. Being surrounded by nothing but miles and miles of trees was charming. Traveling by an old creaky train—because the mountain road was out again—was sooo charming!

Everything in Winter Grove was just so goddamn charming.

And maybe it was.

But Zeke Brighton was not in the mood for charming.

He huffed, his breath coming out in a big white puff, and stalked down the platform, dragging his suitcases behind him.

✨

As the heat hit him, Zeke sighed with relief. While his walk from the station had been short, it had been icy cold. Stepping into the lobby of the Wintergreen Inn felt like stepping into Heaven. The blessed heat came from the massive fireplace that dominated the lobby, flanked by two enormous trees lit up with gold and silver.

For all the town's charm, at least it had a proper hotel.

He approached the fireplace and soaked up its warmth. He had been so distracted when he left that he forgot to bring a hat, a scarf, or even gloves. He'd have to pick some up around here...

"Sir?"

Zeke looked up.

A fresh-faced clerk at the front desk was beckoning to him. "I can help you, sir."

As Zeke headed for him, he noticed the clerk was less fresh-faced, more baby-faced. How old was this kid?

"Do you have a reservation?" the kid clerk asked.

"Yes," Zeke said. Two parties under Brighton. One of the parties may have already checked in."

The clerk typed the name into the system, and his eyes went wide. "Yes, okay. I see you've booked... Oh." His eyes widened. "Both of the penthouse suites."

Zeke just stared at him. "Yes."

"Just a moment," he said, flashing Zeke his biggest smile.

He turned to wave at some other uniformed employees who all rushed over. They collected Zeke's bags onto a cart and hurried to the elevator.

"Thank you for staying with us, Mr. Brighton," the clerk said.

"Uh-huh. And the other party? Have they checked in?"

"Oh. Yes. Sorry, sir." He typed something. "They have, sir, though I think they've just left for dinner. If you like, I can leave them a message—"

"No, that's alright. Just check me in."

"Right," the clerk said. His typing got faster. "The suite has two guests, Zeke Brighton and Na—" He leaned to look around Zeke as if someone might be standing behind him.

"She won't be coming," Zeke said, his tone sharpening. "It's just me."

The clerk immediately straightened up. "Of course, sir." More typing.

Zeke used the wait to check his watch. He was supposed to meet them at seven, but it was a quarter to six. Where had they gone so early? Either way, it looked like he had some time to kill before he had to head to the restaurant...

He could use a drink.

He glanced around the lobby, hoping for a hotel bar. There was one tucked into the corner. It was a cool-looking joint with dark wood paneling and moody lighting, but the sign out front said it was closed for a private function.

He turned back to the clerk, who was still typing. "Where can I get a drink around here?"

The clerk paused, his young face thoughtful. "Well, sir, usually I'd recommend the hotel bar, but they're unfortunately closed for a private function. But all our rooms have well stocked minibars—"

Zeke shook his head. Heading to his room and hitting the minibar sounded like a good idea, but that was also an excellent way to doze off and miss dinner. "Is there nowhere else? A local bar or something?"

The clerk's face went stiff. "Well, there is one bar... but it's not a very, uh, refined establishment. Nothing like our usual level of service—"

"I don't care. I just need a drink," Zeke said with a huff. "Quickly."

"Well... If you insist..." the clerk said, looking wary. "There's a bar the next block over, but—"

"Perfect," Zeke said, cutting him off. "What's it's name?"

The clerk swallowed. "The Snowball's Chance."

✨