Archive of Our Own ^beta

Prologue

There once was a town called Partridge Point nestled at the base of Mount Mansfield just outside Stowe, Vermont. It was close enough that people passed through on their way to their glamorous ski vacations and admired it for the quaint village atmosphere, but not close enough to be their final destination.

As time went on, Partridge Point experienced the same economic downturns that the rest of the country did. Some shops that had been there forever shuttered or were replaced as their owners decided to retire and younger families moved up to get away from the city.

In recent years, the town had been flourishing. A somewhat mysterious—as mysterious as one could be in a small town, which was to say not at all—woman had moved in, and she began buying up the flagging property on Main Street and taking over the mortgages. Normally, in a sleepy small town so close to such a major ski destination, that would be cause for concern, but she seemed fixated on maintaining the charm of Partridge Point and keeping all of the little shops in business.

The mysterious woman didn’t care for the spotlight, though, and it was a bit of an unwritten rule around town that people didn’t talk about what she had done to help them, or mention it to her much at all past normal day to day upkeep. When she came into town, she just liked to go about her business.

After she started investing in the town, the phenomenon of AirBnB took off around the world. All of a sudden, vacations to Stowe became much more accessible if skiers were willing to stay in a town nearby with a touch more atmosphere, and drive to the lifts instead of shelling out all of the resort prices.

With a name like Partridge Point in a wintry sort of state next to a ski resort, they had always loved the holidays. Everyone participated in decorating their storefronts and they always had a big Christmas Festival on the village green every year. Baked goods were ubiquitous around the holiday season anywhere in the world, but it was a specialty in Partridge Point.

Thankfully, the town had a lovely little bakery run by a woman in her late sixties named Ginger. As a young woman she enjoyed a good play on words and named her bakery, “Ginger Snapped!”

It was all fun and games for twenty-nine years and seven months until one day, the caretaker for most of the properties on Main Street noticed the shop wasn’t open and the lights weren’t on in the early morning light when Ginger normally arrived to start baking the day’s wares. The bakery had an assistant, so that was the first person the caretaker called. The assistant was out of town, her mother said, but she would be back the next day.

The caretaker had keys to all the buildings in case of emergency, so he discussed it with the owner and she told him to check both the bakery and the apartment above, fearing for Ginger’s safety.

When the caretaker entered, it looked as though nothing was amiss. Cupcakes were neatly lined up in the display cases as were cookies by the dozen. A few spare loaves of bread were stacked in baskets behind the counter. In the middle of the tranquil shop, sitting on the counter, there was a piece of paper. As the caretaker approached he saw a key ring as well.

Dear Partridge Point,

I will always love you, but I’ve met my soulmate online, and we’re moving to Hawaii. Enjoy the snow, and don’t wait up!

Love, Ginger.

P.S. Call Harry Styles at Farina in Boston.

And that was that.

❅❅❅

There was an event somewhere in the city of Boston. Harry didn’t know where, but it always clogged up the train lines terribly at rush hour. It had just started to get cold, too, which meant everyone had unpacked their winter coats for the season, and some of the new students had bought their very first coats ever, which meant everyone had a few extra inches of padding, making everything that much more squished.

Harry placed her tote bag on the ground as she leaned against the wall of the train, intent on getting as comfortable as possible for the thirty minute long journey home. She was damp and cold and sniffling, and someone near her had a sack of cheeseburgers and french fries and she was so hungry she wanted to rip it right out of their hands.

Harry had been out of school for too long. She celebrated her twenty-ninth birthday earlier in the year, and she was just feeling... done. Sick of the crowded trains and fast food and dirty slushy snow that fell too often, or not at all, until it melted and seeped into the ground in time for spring to rear its ugly head.

She breathed deeply and closed her eyes leaning her head back against the uncomfortable plastic siding of the train car.

Thanksgiving was in two weeks and it couldn’t come soon enough, she had been making pumpkin pies for what felt like months in preparation for the holiday. Farina distributed them to grocery stores and restaurants all across Boston for the holiday season.

Harry had learned so much in the traditional North End Italian bakery, she really had. But she was beginning to get sick of it. There were only so many almond cookies and cannoli shells she could make. Her specialty was usually wedding cakes, and during the height of wedding season she loved the fast pace and variety, but because of Farina’s volume she never got to have any of the one on one consultations with any of the couples. She never got to meet with them to figure out exactly what they wanted, or go to the venue to see it and unload the cake, or watch the newlyweds taste her creations.

It got tiring after awhile, and she was feeling more restless than ever heading into the holiday season. She was beginning to think it was time for her to move on, and when she drove to her mom’s house for Thanksgiving she planned on talking it out with her and getting her advice. Her mom was a great sounding board.

The congestion in the car didn’t ease, even as the train got farther and farther away from downtown. Right before her stop Harry opened her eyes and blinked against the bright artificial lights. She leaned down to pick up her heavy tote bag, laden with groceries and began to push her way through the crowd.

That was, of course, right as her phone began to ring somewhere in one of her pockets. She had her Bluetooth headphones in, but her hands were full and she couldn’t reach any of the random buttons she could use to answer the call. She couldn’t even see who was calling.

The overhead announcement proclaimed that it was her stop and she shoved the last guy out of the way—how did people manage to pick the most inconvenient places to stand all the time?

Her feet hit the platform that was littered with puddles and she shouldered her groceries more securely. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone that had finally stopped ringing. The number was unlisted, so she shrugged and dropped it back into her coat pocket before turning and heading for her apartment. Whoever it was would call back if they really needed to speak to her.

The rain wasn’t falling as heavily anymore, in New England terms it was “spitting” which meant it was more annoying than anything.

Harry’s phone started ringing again. When she pulled it out of her pocket she could see it was a number that wasn’t in her caller ID but she recognized the area code. 802… 802… She couldn’t remember where she knew it from, but it sparked something.

She swiped up to answer it.

“Hello?” Harry croaked before clearing her throat.

“Hi! Is this Harry? Harry Styles?”

The warm, male voice on the other end of the phone was far from the robo-call Harry had been expecting.

“This is she.”

“My name is Niall Horan. Do you have a few minutes to chat?”

Ever the people-pleaser, Harry almost said yes, but she stopped herself. “Actually it’s raining a bit here, can I call you back in a few minutes?”

“Sure, sure. No problem. Talk to you soon.”

Niall hung up the phone on his end and Harry dropped hers back in her pocket. She was intrigued now, so she picked up her pace as she covered the few blocks between the T stop and her apartment.

Once she finally unlocked her door and trudged up to the second floor she dropped her tote bag on the counter and hung up her coat before redialing Niall’s number.

“Hello? Harry?”

Harry hadn’t even heard the call ring on Niall’s end. “Yes, hi. I’m here.”

“Great. I’m sorry this is so out of the blue, but I need your help.”

Harry was confused. Was she supposed to know Niall? It wasn’t a name that she remembered explicitly, and as much as she racked her brain she came up empty. “I’m sorry, do we know each other?”

“She didn’t tell you I would be calling?”

Now Harry was even more confused. “No? Who’s she?”

Niall huffed out a breath. “Let’s start over. My name is Niall Horan, I live in a town called Partridge Point, Vermont.”

Vermont. That was the 802 area code, of course. Harry’s friend Ginger lived up in Vermont and she had seen it in her phone number before.

“We’re in a bit of a bind. I think you know someone named Ginger?”

Adrenaline shot through Harry. “Is she alright?”

“Yes! Yeah, she’s fine. Great, actually.”

Harry let out a breath of relief. She and Ginger had met in an adult education certification class held at the Cambridge School of Culinary Arts a few years before. Harry had gone to learn a new skill, and Ginger was there doing the same thing. She owned a bakery in Vermont somewhere and was trying to revitalize it because they were getting more and more tourists in their sleepy little town.

While she was staying in the city for the course she came over to visit Harry at Farina every other day and they had grown very close. Ginger was so fun and young at heart, she made Harry stop and enjoy the process of baking instead of just churning out cookie after cookie the way Harry got lost in it sometimes.

They kept in touch off and on since then.

Niall’s voice brought Harry back to the present. “She’s run off.”

“What?”

“Yeah, she’s gone to Hawaii. Met some guy online that she claims is her soulmate.”

Harry stopped and let what Niall said sink into her mind. Then, she giggled.

It had been a long enough day and she was tired enough that she couldn’t stop giggling. Running off with a random man from the internet for a chance at love was exactly something Ginger would do.

She heard Niall force a laugh out on the other end of the phone. Once she pulled herself together, she wiped at the corners of her eyes.

“I’m so sorry. What is it you need my help with then, Niall?”

“We need you to come take over the bakery.”

Harry stopped laughing. “What bakery?”

“Ginger’s bakery. Ginger Snapped.”

Every implication of small business ownership—usually something she repeated to herself over and over again to try and keep a lid on all of her wildest daydreams—came crashing down around her.

“Oh.” Harry filled with dread as she thought about disappointing Ginger. “Oh wow, I’m so flattered Niall, but I’ll be honest with you, I’m not in any sort of position financially that I could take on a bakery. Buying someone out is a huge financial decision, and I’m sorry but I don’t know you and I really feel like this is something I should be discussing with Ginger.”

“No, no. Let me explain. We don’t need you to buy her out. The bakery is owned independently. We just need you to come… manage it, I guess.”

“Ginger sold out?” That struck Harry as odd. Her friend was the very definition of a free spirit. Being beholden to someone like a chain or a developer wasn’t exactly her style.

“Well… not exactly. There are a lot more details, but basically it’s a silent investor. They’re very, very hands off. Ginger ran everything entirely on her own, there was no one pulling any strings, this investor was trying to prevent anyone from having to sell out.”

“O...kay?” Harry thought she was maybe beginning to understand, but she was still incredibly skeptical. “So, Niall, are you offering me a managing job?”

“Yes!” Niall sounded elated that he didn’t have to keep trying to explain himself.

Harry had never really managed a whole bakery before. She had held enough jobs, and managed a few departments before, so it wouldn’t be too far off from the experience she already had, but Niall was offering her something sight unseen on his end. She still had a lot of reservations.

“How many people work there?”

“It’s pretty small, just one or two assistants depending on the season.”

That sounded much more manageable, she supposed... And it would be nice to curate her own menu....

“Look, Niall. I’ll cut to the chase. You don’t know me. What’s in this for you?”

Niall sighed heavily. “I get it, like I said, it’s out of the blue. The holidays are coming up. Thanksgiving is kind of a lost cause, but a few people have volunteered to help out until we can find a replacement. After that, though—well, actually now, but again, that's a lost cause—it’s about to be ski season which is part of this town’s livelihood. Christmas is really big around here and we have tourists from all over the world staying in and around town. The bakery is always a huge part of those celebrations and it would be great to get someone in as quickly as possible.”

“Why me?”

“Ginger left me your name and number, and that’s good enough for me and the owner. If I have to post the job and start interviewing people that’s fine and I’ll do it but I’d rather not.”

Harry laughed. “Alright, let’s say I consider doing this. I’ll have to break my lease. Is there a place for me to stay when I come up there?”

“The bakery comes with an apartment above upstairs. Ginger cleaned most of it out and put her stuff in storage, but it’s furnished. The salary I can offer you is a little low, but you wouldn’t have to pay any rent.”

Honestly, that was enough to sell it for Harry but she didn’t want to appear too eager because part of her was still worried this was some sort of human trafficking ring.

Niall mistook her silence for more doubt. “I know this is a lot and I’m sorry.”

“Can I have some time to think about it?” Also known as calling her mom.

“Yeah, that’s alright,” Niall said. “Would you be able to tell me in the next few days?”

Harry agreed and after ironing out a few more contact details, they hung up.

Her adrenaline was through the roof as she spun around aimlessly in her tiny kitchen.

Finally her hand brushed the tote bag. Right, her groceries. She needed to put those away.

As she rummaged around in her fridge and pantry she took the time to really look around her. She wasn’t attached to her apartment. It was a place to live. She had a couple of friends in Boston but no one she wouldn’t be able to keep up with from afar.

Hadn’t she spent the entire train ride home lamenting the city and her commute?

She was from upstate New York. She loved small, mountain towns. Niall had called it Partridge Point. Maybe she should do some research on it before she talked to her mom. Harry wanted to be able to present her with all of the facts when she inevitably asked for them.

After heating up some leftover Chinese food, she settled at her kitchen bar with her laptop and typed in "Partridge Point."

Three hours later, her empty take out containers were abandoned, as was a glass of wine and a bowl of coffee ice cream.

Her eyes were tired and her throat was gritty from having talked to her mom for so long. The talk she had planned on having with her at Thanksgiving happened that night as she laid out everything in Niall’s offer. Her mom was also skeptical, but she started to come around as they looked at pictures of the little town together.

The town’s main street area seemed to be thriving with lots of small shops and restaurants. The buildings and houses were quaint, and Harry had looked at every available picture of Ginger Snapped! that she could find on the internet.

Something about it felt… right. It was the first thing to feel right for Harry in a really long time, and as her mom pointed out, it was clear that she had already made her decision.

If she broke her lease to move out of the city, and put all her eggs in the Partridge Point basket but something went wrong, her mom promised she would always be able to come home again.

She still wanted to sleep on it, but when she woke up she could still feel the excitement bubbling in her chest. She called Niall right away and he picked up on the first ring.

She took a deep breath. "I'm in."

❅❅❅

Two Weeks Later

On Black Friday, Harry was up at dawn with the discount hunters, but instead of crowded shopping centers, she was squishing herself into her packed car.

Her mom and sister waved from the front porch of her childhood home—wrapped in robes against the chill of the morning—as she pulled out of the driveway and headed off to Vermont. It wasn’t that far a drive from her family’s home in Saratoga Springs, about two and a half hours according to Google, so she would get there with plenty of time in the day left to get settled.

The boxes and suitcases were piled high enough that Harry had trouble seeing through her back windshield which was always a little nerve wracking, but she put her Christmas playlist on over the speakers and slowly she began to relax.

The butterflies in her stomach wouldn’t stop fluttering, though. As someone who didn’t take many risks, Harry couldn’t believe she had agreed to drop everything and take this chance. She was worried she would wake up this morning laden with regret two weeks after making the decision but she hadn’t.

Quitting Farina had been depressingly easy. She loved her colleagues and they said they would miss her, but they also insisted she didn’t need to stay the full two weeks as she was taking Thanksgiving off anyway. It was silly to lament how nice they were being, but it also made her feel a little bit replaceable.

The crisp morning air and the empty roads made the drive pass by quickly. Suddenly, she was exiting the highway and her dinky little car began its climb into more mountainous terrain. The towns grew farther and farther apart but soon she began passing through them instead of passing by them.

Everything was so quaint, Harry could barely contain her excitement. There was no snow on the ground yet, but she could imagine how picturesque it became when there was.

Her GPS had been going in and out of range as the area got more and more rural, but she could tell she was heading in the right direction when Partridge Point began appearing on various signs, so she started watching for them more closely instead of using the GPS.

Finally, Harry saw a sign indicating the town line. She kept driving on what she hoped was the main road, and half a mile farther down past a few residences on either side, the buildings began to appear.

There were people out and about everywhere already and it was only nine in the morning. All of the shops were completely done up for Christmas, and Harry suspected they had gotten a head start before Thanksgiving. If the holidays were really as important to the livelihood of the town as Niall said, it wouldn't be a surprise.

The only storefront that was more sparsely decorated had a big sign over the awning that said “Ginger Snapped!” As Harry slowed down in front of the building to get a good look, she remembered when Ginger first told her the name of her bakery and how much they had laughed together over the pun.

In the two weeks following Ginger's “disappearance” as Niall was calling it, Harry tried to get in touch with her. She called, texted, emailed, all to no avail, but she also wouldn’t put it past Ginger to charm the flight attendants into opening up the plane door so she could toss her cell phone from thirty thousand feet.

Harry's car was beginning to create a bit of a traffic jam, and there were no parking spaces available out front so she kept driving, pulling to the end of the block the way Niall instructed her to in his email. He said there was a large parking lot for the whole Main Street area behind one of the sets of buildings and he would meet her there.

When Harry turned in, she could see a man and a woman talking to each other at the far end behind the building. The man had brown hair and a bright smile. Harry would admit to doing some internet stalking, so she knew from his very active Instagram account that it was Niall.

But the woman. Wow. Harry definitely didn’t recognize her.

She had long flowing brown hair that was pinned back away from her face and sharp eyes that felt like they pierced through the metal of Harry’s car as they watched her approach them. Her thinner pink lips lifted in a small smirk and Harry shifted in her seat under the scrutiny. The woman was wearing all black. Black pants, black boots, and an incredibly chic black wool coat that was impossibly clean and pressed with a big belt tying it together. The only color was a red Burberry cashmere scarf—Harry could only tell it was Burberry because she had just walked by the storefront on Newbury Street and admired it herself.

The woman looked like she had just stepped off a private plane in the Swiss Alps, and definitely did not look like she should be hidden away in this rural Vermont town.

Harry found the first available space and pulled to a stop. Taking a deep breath, she climbed out of the driver’s side door, but when she looked up, Niall was approaching her alone. The woman had vanished.

“Hey, there! Harry?” he called as he came towards her.

Harry waved. “Hello!”

They went through the usual small talk, introducing themselves, talking about their holidays, Niall asking how the drive was. Finally, he offered to walk her over to see the bakery apartment, and the parking lot where she could pull her car around.

On foot, they went around the back of the building. There were two doors next to each other, one had a sign for the bakery entrance the other had gold painted letters marked “12 ½.”

“That’s the apartment. The real postal address is 12B, but Ginger liked the idea of it being a half because it actually sits on top of both twelve and fourteen downstairs,” Niall explained as he started rifling through his pockets.

He pulled out a little key envelope and opened the door to the narrow stairwell. The apartment was small and quaint, just like the town. Though her things were gone, Harry could see Ginger’s influence on the space. She could also see the potential in sprucing it up a bit and really settling down.

It was a one bedroom apartment with an extra room that could be an office, so it was quite spacious and the living room and kitchen were twice the size of what she had back in Boston. Harry was hopeful at the instant connection she felt standing in the space.

After Niall showed her around, he suggested they stop in downstairs and Harry readily agreed.

“The volunteers from around town have been baking their own recipes to come in and sell out of the bakery like a giant bake sale, and your assistant Sarah has been working as much as she can during working hours to make a limited coffee drink menu. If only so that people have something to come and buy during the holidays.”

Harry’s heart lifted. The community had been pitching in, that was incredible. “Wow, that’s amazing.”

“They’re a little tired. Most of them can’t wait for you to get started so they can have a break.”

Harry caught his slip. “Most of them?”

Niall shrugged but smiled easily. “There are still a few hold outs that are a little skeptical because we hired you sight unseen.”

That was fair, Harry supposed. She stopped in the hallway mirror to make sure she looked alright after her drive and everything else that had happened.

When she was ready she held her arms out. “Lead the way.”

Meeting the volunteers was overwhelming at first. The bakery was quite busy, by her count Harry thought there may have been more volunteers than customers, but she was still so excited there was such a passionate response to the bakery in general even during its brief management transition.

Niall suggested they walk around front so Harry could get the full experience.

Everyone paused in what they were doing and it was a little bit intimidating for all of the bustling action to come to a complete standstill solely to focus on her, but Harry kept her smile pasted on her face as the older women introduced themselves one by one.

The only volunteer that was anything less than welcoming was a woman named Amesbury, Janet Amesbury, Harry thought—though there were so many names she wasn’t sure how she was going to keep track.

Maybe-Janet was standing at the front counter, not participating in any of the customer service, but instead standing and presiding over the operation with a clipboard in her hand. Harry suspected she was going to be told that Janet had been coordinating the volunteers.

As they shook hands, she was proven right.

“Well, you know, I took it upon myself to make sure the counter was staffed and full of a variety of treats.”

If her nose stuck up in the air any higher Harry was sure she would be able to smell God.

“Thank you so much for all of your time and effort,” Harry forced out. Her mother taught her to always be kind even when the person didn’t necessarily warrant it.

Niall asked her if she wanted to see the kitchen or wait until the evening after the bakery closed for the day. Harry peeked over the crowd and could see that quite a few people were back there. Niall told her no one was cooking with the equipment because of health codes, but they were using the space to prepare the treats they brought from home.

It was already getting a little stuffy with everyone’s coats and other winter gear. Not wanting to try and get to know a new kitchen with so many people in it, Harry declined and said she would see it later.

Instead, Niall suggested they walk around a bit and maybe get a bite to eat. Harry only had time to scarf down a yogurt before her drive and could feel her stomach beginning to growl so she agreed.

As they stepped out of the warm space into the chilly, crisp Vermont morning, Harry asked a question that had been brewing for a little while.

“Niall, do I need to meet the owner soon?” Harry was keenly aware that she would be somewhat beholden to someone else in what she did with the bakery, and didn’t want to make too many decisions until she met with them.

Again, Niall waved off her concerns. “Probably. And you will, soon. But, Lou? She does things on her own terms and her own time.”

Harry expected him to expand on well... anything, but he didn’t. She also expected him to just walk her through town and point things out like they were on a normal tour. But no, they stopped into every single business on one side of Main Street before crossing the street and stopping in all the shops on the other side.

In each one Harry met some sort of manager or owner. Or, previous owner, she supposed, if the same person really bought up all of Main Street like Niall had told her before.

Finally, at the end of the block they reached a sandwich shop called Zoey’s. It too was bustling, and they waited in a long line for a few minutes as people shouted out names on orders. Harry thought the shop might be competition for the bakery, but as she looked closer, the pre-wrapped cookies were all labeled with the Ginger Snapped! label. Ginger must have fulfilled an order for them before she left. Harry pulled out her phone notes app and typed out “wholesale orders,” putting it on her to-do list.

As she thought about each thing she needed to do, or attempt to figure out, she was trying to write it down so she didn’t forget later.

That done, Harry looked around at the other customers in the shop. Slowly, she started to notice something very specific, and as she thought back to all of the other shops they had gone into, a pattern began to emerge.

She felt a little ridiculous asking about it, or even pointing it out, but the mystery was going to nag at her.

“Niall,” she started. His attention snapped to her. “Is it just me, or are a lot of people in this town… kind of young?” She didn’t mean young, young, but her age. Probably late twenties, ranging into their forties and fifties at the very high end. Everyone except the volunteers at the bakery, really.

There were certainly customers of every age, but there just seemed to be an excessive number of attractive millennials.

Niall threw his head back and laughed raucously. “And hot too, right?” he nodded.

“Yes! I mean, I think everyone is beautiful in their own unique way, but yes.” Harry exclaimed, relieved to know she wasn’t crazy.

“No, it’s definitely been happening over the last few years,” Niall agreed. He paused and Harry could see he was gathering his thoughts. “Vermont has always been attractive to a certain set of young people because they come up to ski, or go to breweries in the summer, and it’s incredibly beautiful and also politically liberal compared to most rural places.”

That made sense for Vermont as a whole, Harry supposed.

“So, tourists especially come up and fall in love with it. A few of them might open up new businesses, maybe, sure. But in Partridge Point it’s really been about the money. When Lou bought up all of the property and businesses on Main Street it allowed the older residents to comfortably retire if they wanted to and not have to worry about expenses in this economy. A lot of the people you met today are actually second generation, coming back into town, taking the businesses over from their parents.”

It hit Harry that a lot of millennials just didn’t do that anymore because of the money, but if the money wasn’t an issue? Sure.

“Just look at you, Harry,” Niall pointed out.

They finally made it up to the front of the line and an attractive man with warm brown eyes that crinkled at the edges greeted her kindly before seeing that she was with Niall. Here, too, was proof of Harry’s point.

“Hey, Ni, the usual?”

Niall nodded and then gestured to Harry.

“This here’s Harry she’s taking over at the bakery for Ginger. Harry this is Liam he runs this place.”

Confusion cleared from Liam’s face. “Oh! Harry from the note.”

That had been the response from a few people that day. The only person that hadn’t really said anything to that effect had been the broody male model working at the bookstore. Then again, he didn’t say much of anything when they met.

“That’s me,” she said, waving a little awkwardly. It had been a long day, she had met a lot of people and it was only noon.

“Nice to finally meet you, then. I know you’ve probably got a lot going on, but I’d be happy to come by and talk about the stuff we usually ordered from Ginger when you get settled.”

Harry was relieved. “Yeah, that would be great.”

Liam’s smile widened impossibly, and his wavy hair danced as he thumbed backward to point at the menu. “In the meantime, what can I get you?”

Still high on Thanksgiving flavors, Harry ordered their "New Englander" with turkey breast, stuffing, mashed potatoes, and cranberry mayo on wheat bread. It was going to be heavy, but she needed the fuel for the rest of the day especially if she was going to try and last until the bakery closed so she could go down and get to know the space.

Harry watched Liam take orders seamlessly before passing them to the people down the line who were actually making the sandwiches. They had a nice efficient system going, and they were certainly busy.

While she and Niall ate, Harry took her time watching the patrons come and go with their lunches. For a Black Friday crowd there was a good mix of shoppers sitting down with their meals, and working—presumably more permanent—members of the community taking their sandwiches to go. She was looking forward to understanding what the community wanted to eat and what she could possibly make to expand their collective palate.

They took their time finishing, but as they were cleaning up, something on the wall caught Harry's eye. There was a sign, novelty, specially made, that declared the restaurant “Zoeyville” but the really interesting part was the establishment date. February 1st, 1994.

Harry was struck. That was her birthday. Her exact birthday. She pointed out as much to Niall and he too thought it was a crazy coincidence.

All morning Harry had felt light, uplifted, giddy, even. Everything about her decision, the town of Partridge Point, the atmosphere, her fellow shop managers, all of it felt right. Nothing had ever felt that way before, and she was amazed. This sign was a cute little cherry on top of the sundae.

And she hadn’t even started baking yet.

Back on the street, bundling up again in her scarf and gloves, Harry was lost in conversation with Niall when something crossed in front of her on the sidewalk and startled her so completely that she jumped about a foot in the air.

There was a tawny cat, sitting coolly on the ice cold concrete of the sidewalk directly in Harry’s path. Watching her. Studying her. Harry’s shout when she jumped should have been enough to startle the cat right back, but no. It was unnerving.

Harry took deep breaths trying to get her heart rate to go back down. Niall was laughing so hard he was practically doubled over. None of it phased the cat.

“Hi, lovely,” Harry said as she leaned down, holding her hand out in greeting. The cat didn’t respond. It almost looked… sardonic? And while Harry understood that a sardonic expression was the baseline for most cats, she couldn’t help the feeling that this particular cat truly understood what was happening and wanted no part of it.

The cat’s coat was a darker chestnut and much more even in color than Harry had ever seen on a cat before. It was quite beautiful.

“You’re gorgeous, aren’t you?” Harry asked the cat rhetorically. “What’s your name?”

“She doesn’t really have a name,” Niall piped up from behind her.

“Who does she belong to?” Surely a cat this beautiful and healthy was well fed and taken care of in a loving home somewhere. Harry didn’t love that she was an outdoor cat in rural Vermont where there were predators galore, but that wasn’t really her decision to make. Unfortunately.

Niall shrugged. Harry was beginning to see a pattern forming. “No one really knows. She showed up one day, and now she’s practically the mayor.”

Harry’s hand was inching closer and closer to the cat until she finally felt safe dragging one fingertip across the top of her head. The cat allowed it, but made it clear Harry shouldn’t be making a habit of it. She was an extremely expressive cat.

“She does have a close relationship with Lou, though,” Niall added, but there was something cagey about his tone. It was enough of a change that Harry’s gaze left the cat and landed on him.

“Close relationship?”

Niall bit his lip and sighed as though he was deciding whether he was going to explain himself to Harry or not. Eventually, he suggested they go back to her building and start bringing things up to her apartment so they could get warm.

Harry hadn’t expected the help moving and didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth, so she didn’t press. Yet.

“Bye, kitty,” she said as she followed Niall back towards the bakery. The cat didn’t get the memo, though, and continued to trail behind them at a safe distance the whole way back.

Lots of townspeople stopped to say hello to the cat as they made their way through their Christmas shopping lists, or on a break in their journey to their own lunch destinations.

By the time they had returned to her car behind the block of Main Street shops there were two other men she hadn’t met yet standing there waiting for them. Between the four of them—though, Harry was woman enough to admit she mostly just watched the car and carried her pillows—they had her car completely emptied out in less than thirty minutes and were moving boxes and suitcases around the apartment as she directed.

Conveniently, just as she was locking up the car and making sure everything was out, the cat appeared again, hopping up on the hood and waiting for Harry to finish.

“Hello, again, I notice you’ve waited for all of the hard work to be done, then?” Harry pointed out.

The cat chirped at her for the first time. Harry didn’t think it was meant to be a compliment.

When Harry moved to open the door to the back stairs, the cat hopped down and made it clear that she was coming in as well and there was nothing Harry could do about it. Very well, it wasn’t like Harry was opposed to having a cat in her house but the feline was beginning to get a bit presumptuous.

Harry heard Niall greet the cat at the top of the stairs which meant the apartment door was still open enough for her to get in and make herself at home, apparently.

Now that everything had been moved the other two men—whose names Harry finally learned were Jeremiah and TJ—said goodbye and were on their merry way without Harry even having the chance to offer them pizza or beer or something. Wasn’t that customary? She had never had strapping young men around to help her before so she didn’t know for sure. It was all a bit overwhelming.

The cat was already curled up on the back of the couch that sat directly next to a window sill at the same height. She looked quite at home staring out at a bustling Main Street below the window. Based on the previously unexplained dent on the back of said couch, Harry was beginning to suspect this was not the first time she had done this.

“Have you noticed her collar?” Niall asked abruptly nodding towards the cat.

Harry hadn’t. “I saw she had one, but it’s just a collar.”

Niall shook his head. “It’s not. Though now that she’s curled up you might not be able to see it.”

The cat unfurled, getting up and stretching her back high into the air and yawning before settling down into a neat sitting position facing Harry full on. It was a little eerie, almost like she knew what they were talking about.

Then, Harry noticed the small key hanging off the collar the way someone might hang a real pet tag. The key was small and vintage. Harry could tell from the slight tarnish just around the edges that it was sterling silver. “That’s interesting.”

Harry moved forward and reached for the key to study it more closely. Before she could grasp it, the cat dove off the back of the couch—again, startling Harry with her sudden movement—sailing gracefully through the air to the arm of the couch and then up onto the nearby kitchen counter.

“Yeah, the key is a thing. Don’t try and touch it,” Niall chuckled. He was in good spirits, but it was a heavier laugh, laden with something he seemed reluctant to talk about.

Harry smiled her most beatific smile. “Well now you have to tell me.”

Niall sighed before settling down into the corner of the couch, kicking his feet out on the floor in front of him.

“It all started as a bit of a joke.” He hemmed and hawed for a minute while the cat hopped down off the counter and up into his lap. “You haven’t met Louis yet, but I’ve told you enough about her that you can reasonably guess that she’s loaded.”

Harry nodded, her mind flashing to the extremely luxurious woman Niall had been talking to when she pulled in that morning. She certainly could be the mysterious Louis, she looked the part.

“Unfortunately, she’s also an incredibly beautiful, mysterious woman in her late thirties. Maybe forty, actually, I don’t know that I’ve ever really known.”

He winced suddenly as the cat dug her claws into his thigh. Based on his expression, she must have pierced the thick denim of his jeans. The cat was entirely immune to his muttered cursing under his breath. She looked quite pleased with herself.

“I don’t get it, what was the joke?” Harry asked, now exceedingly curious.

“Right, yeah. So we were all out drinking. Me, Liam, Zayn from the bookstore, and Louis, down at the Irish pub. You should come with us some time once you’re settled.”

That sounded like a very intimidating bunch for her first outing in a new town, but Harry appreciated the invitation.

“So, anyway. We were trying to have a good time, some nice conversation, but it’s about the only place in town to really go out and every five minutes there was a new guy coming up to the table to fawn over Louis. The drinks were free, which was nice, but it got to be a bit excessive.”

Huh, Harry thought. Men. The way he described her made Harry too curious to wonder any longer.

“This Louis, was she the incredibly beautiful, elegant woman you were talking to this morning in the parking lot when I arrived? The one who disappeared?”

Niall barked out a laugh. “Yeah, that’s her. I wasn’t going to say anything because I didn’t want you to think her disappearing act was about you. It wasn’t. Like I said, she just does things in her own time.”

Harry nodded in agreement, but didn’t answer and gestured for him to continue his story.

“Because she’s beautiful, young, and extremely loaded, men have always had a tendency to throw themselves at her. Every single eligible man in this town, of which there are quite a few as you’ve seen, has asked her out on more than one occasion. They finally learned to tone it down, but then you get the influx of tourists each season and the cycle starts all over again. I think she just didn’t want to be bothered any more.”

“That makes sense,” Harry hummed. “But I understand where they’re coming from, like I said, very attractive.”

“And when you have all of the men panting after some woman, you inevitably have other perfectly lovely single women feeling resentful.”

“What about you?” Harry asked with a cheeky smile. “Did you ever toss your cap in that ring?”

Niall shook his head. “Thought about it for about two seconds before I realized she was my new boss. I’m glad it happened that way, though, because I’ve gotten to know her and now she’s one of my best friends. Much more like an older sister than anything else. Great drinking buddy, too.”

“I’m confused. How does the key factor into this?”

Niall dragged his hand across the top of the cats head all the way down her spine, and Harry watched her tail vibrate at the feeling before she settled back down on this lap.

“The key. Yeah. So that night at the pub, we’ve all been putting it on for a little while, and all we want is a little bit of privacy and uninterrupted conversation. I think Liam was going through a break up at the time, it was before he and Zayn got together, and we were trying to support him but it’s hard when you have sleazy guys hitting on the only woman in your party every five minutes.”

He sighed and hooked his finger under the cat's collar. The cat managed to look at him sideways with a warning glance even though she had just barely opened her eyes.

“She announced to the bar that night that the town cat—still as yet unnamed—was going to be her official test. No one could ask her out until they retrieved the key from around the collar of the cat. Then, and only then, would she consider dating them.”

Harry gaped at him. “I did not see that coming.”

Niall laughed. “Yeah, the next day, the cat showed up with a key attached to it’s collar and Louis would offer no further explanation.”

“Well, has it worked?”

“So far it has. Obviously tourists still come and go, but the rumor has been able to spread enough now that folks treat it as some sort of town legend. Anything to draw the crowds, you know?”

She understood, even though it still felt like there were some gaps in the story. “How long ago was all this?”

Niall squinted as he thought about it. “Year and a half? Two years?”

“And she hasn’t dated at all in that time?” Harry asked, secretly disappointed.

“Nope. Why? Are you interested in trying your hand?” Niall teased her.

Coming out to people was an art form meant to be considered delicately depending on the situation.

“Yes—” Harry blurted out without thinking about it. He had just explained how this poor woman had been harassed beyond her limit and here Harry was talking about doing the exact same thing even though she would probably never work up the courage. God, she needed to think things through better before she said them.

Niall’s eyes widened. “Wa-hey! You got your eye on our Lou? Hmm?”

“No, not like that!” She rushed. “Okay, well maybe a little like that. But after what you’ve told me I would never presume to bother her or anything. I don’t want you to think I would take advantage of her. And she’s my new boss, oh my God, I didn’t even think of that, I can’t believe I said anything.”

Niall held his hands out, jostling the cat from her resting loaf position on his knees. “Woah, hey, Harry chill for a second. Take a breath. You seem like a great person, I didn’t think any of those things. I promise.”

His smile was easy and reassuring so Harry took his advice and took a deep breath before slowly exhaling again.

“You’re not exactly the demographic I’m worried about,” Niall quipped. “Plus, all you’ve got to do is get the key everyone else has failed to retrieve. Easy enough, yeah?”

Harry giggled, her embarrassment easing bit by bit. The cat had jumped off of Niall’s lap when she had been disturbed, but from the floor she chirped at Harry in warning before jumping up onto her knees. She didn’t settle, or head butt Harry or anything. She was just kind of staring at her again.

Slowly, tentatively, Harry reached for the silver key.

The metal was cool against the tip of her pointer finger. It was well worn and shiny, and she was just getting used to the weight of it, bringing her thumb up to grasp it fully, when the cat jumped away again with surprising speed. Even for a cat.

“Touché,” Harry said lightly. Foiled again.

Before Niall and the cat left that afternoon he and Harry finished up some of her employment paperwork sitting at the dining table. He told her the bakery would close for the day between four and five that afternoon. The lack of definitive closing time was amusing to Harry. Definitely different from her old job in Boston.

While she waited—not wanting to get in the way downstairs—she found the local grocery store and picked up some staples for her own pantry in her apartment so she could start making meals on her own. Everyone in the store had been exceedingly friendly and it was a nice change of pace from the city where most people just kept their heads down.

There was something about small towns, Harry felt like she was opening up and seeing the world again for the first time. It was exhilarating.

To continue to distract herself and battle her excitement, she started to unpack. She focused on the equipment and tools that she definitely wanted to take downstairs no matter what Ginger had down there. At least until she got comfortable or could get duplicates of what she liked. She only brought the essentials, and the rest of her kitchen equipment would arrive in a few weeks with her family when they came for Christmas.

Finally, her phone read quarter after five and she figured she was safe to go down. She grabbed her things, her phone, her bluetooth speaker, and the keys Niall had given her after she signed her paperwork.

Carefully, Harry made her way down the backstairs, trying out the employee entrance to the bakery for the first time. It was definitely darker in rural Vermont than it was in the city, but a motion sensitive light had popped on to light her way down. When she opened the bakery door, there was a small office, which was really just a foyer with a desk, and based on the way the building was shaped she was pretty sure it was under the stairs.

Ginger had left a hutch on top of the desk, it was old fashioned, and piled high with papers going every which way. Given the free spirit Harry had gotten to know during their course all that time ago, the scene didn’t surprise her. She would definitely need to clean that up.

There wasn’t much room to move around, or any open surface to put her box down, so Harry turned to her left to the kitchen door. It was a typical swinging door, and when she pushed through she was standing in the middle of her very own commercial baking kitchen.

It hadn’t really hit her until that moment what she had stumbled into. By some twist of fate, she, Harry Styles, was in charge of her very own bakery. She could set the menu, decide which ingredients to buy, which clients to take, what kind of catering she wanted to do.

She hastily put her box down on the stainless steel counter before putting her hands on her knees and bowing her head while she breathed in and out. After her head stopped spinning she stood up straight again. She could do this.

Taking stock of the kitchen around her, she realized the first thing she needed to do was clean. It wasn’t messy by any means, the volunteers had kept it in great shape, but there were a few things that were a little too grimy and dusty for her taste. On the bright side, cleaning was one simple, easy thing she could tackle right away.

Before she got started she wanted to see the rest of the bakery. Her bakery. Well, not hers per se, but something very near to it.

There was a service window between the kitchen and the main bakery counter in the rest of the shop which was nice because it made the whole space feel a little more open.

Earlier in the day Harry had taken stock of the décor and general vibe which was very Vermont cottage grandmother chic. There was absolutely nothing wrong with the style, Harry loved it, personally, but as Harry had noticed in her conversations with Niall, Partridge Point was moving up in the world. With new, young tourists coming up from New York and Boston all the time, it would be nice to make everything a little bit more modern while still keeping the New England charm.

Harry wondered how much budget she had to make those sorts of choices. She really wished she could meet with the elusive owner to discuss those things.

She shrugged her shoulders and headed back into the kitchen. Cleaning was her next task, and there was nothing to do now but roll her sleeves up and get it done.

Harry flipped her long, curly hair forward and pulled it up into a quick, but secure bun so it would be out of her face. She opened up a couple closets and cabinets before finally locating the cleaning supplies.

Right as she was about to start, there was a clear and definitive “meow” from the back door. Suspicious, Harry went to check out the noise, opening the main wooden door.

Sure enough, there was the town cat very clearly waiting to be let into the bakery on the other side of the screen door.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said as she pushed the screen door open. “Are you an employee?” She had used the employee entrance after all.

The cat paid her no mind, strolling past her legs and through into the main part of the bakery.

“I see how it is,” Harry mused aloud. Just as she suspected the cat had been in her apartment before, she now suspected the cat was a regular visitor here as well.

It wasn’t the most sanitary thing to happen, but Harry supposed if they could reach some definitive boundaries about the kitchen, she could allow it.

The cat hopped on top of the service pass through between the kitchen and the main bakery, the key laying against her fur glinting in the warm, overhead lighting.

“Alright. This is only going to work if you stay there, and don’t come any farther. I can’t have you in here messing up my clean kitchen.” Harry looked around. “Or, almost clean kitchen. Capice?”

She was pretty sure the cat nodded, but it had been a long, overwhelming day so she was probably seeing things.

Now that the cat was on the counter, Harry thought it might be a little mean to put the speaker right next to her more sensitive ears, so she moved it over to sit on top of the refrigerator. The cat turned around a few times before settling down in a ball on top of the wooden surface. She was still watching Harry, though.

Despite her new companion, Harry had a job to do, so she put on her Christmas playlist and got to work.

An hour later, Harry stood up and wiped the back of her hand across her forehead. She had scrubbed and sanitized every available surface she could find.

The stainless steel counters were great, but it was a large, square space just begging for an island in the middle. When Harry eventually sat down with the owner to go over the finances she would love to get one, preferably with a marble top.

Marble was just so much better for pastry and sugar work to keep it cold or cool it down while working, but it was definitely pricey. She could go without redecorating the front if it meant getting something like that.

Throughout all of her loud Christmas song karaoke she half expected the cat to get annoyed and want to leave, but instead she just stayed there watching. She might even have drifted off at one point, but Harry had been in the zone so she wasn’t sure.

“Don’t you think the space needs an island? Then you don’t have to keep your back to everyone all the time. With nice marble. It’ll lighten the space up.”

The cat didn’t answer.

Next on Harry’s agenda was checking everything that Ginger had premade. Most bakers had things like frozen croissant dough prepared ahead of time. Even if that was all she had, Harry could make the most of it for the next morning.

She started with the fridge first. It was pretty bare—aside from almost an entire dairy’s worth of butter—but even if something had been in the fridge that long it might have gone bad in the interim since Ginger left.

Next, she checked the freezer. That was where she hit pay-dirt.

Frozen, laminated croissant dough. Frozen, empty, shaped pie shells. Frozen slabs of pie dough. Frozen sourdough starter. There were even logs of frozen cut and bake cookies with labels like “chocolate” and “lemon.”

Perfect. She could do a lot with that. She would have to put them all in the fridge overnight to thaw and in the morning she could get all of those things started.

Next, she moved to the pantry. There she found mason jars of premade pie filling like apple, and peach blueberry. That would take care of the empty pie shells. Chocolate, almonds, flour, sugar. Everything she would need for the next day.

Harry swung her gaze back and forth between the pantry and the fridge.

There hadn’t been any other indication that Ginger had prepared for her imminent departure aside from putting her stuff in storage. She left everything almost entirely untouched, as if she had just vanished.

But this? This was more than prepared. This was downright planned. They were all simple, easy things that could be made ahead and would definitely get Harry through at least the next day as long as she woke up super early and got started right away.

Harry brought her recipe book down with her earlier so she went to grab it and along with her notebook. She started by writing out all of the combinations of premade things she could throw together and approximately how long they would take to bake.

Ginger had three ovens, which was helpful. Harry would be able to get a lot done in the morning especially if all she needed to do was dump filling in shells to bake the pies, and then cut the croissants and cookies.

After she exhausted all of the premade options, she thought about simple things she could throw together. Muffins were always good for a morning bakery crowd, and there was an industrial coffee maker out front to compliment them.

Tomorrow was the Saturday after Thanksgiving so she wasn’t sure how much early morning foot traffic she was going to get, but based on the bustling Black Friday crowd, she would rather be over prepared than under.

Harry double checked her muffin recipes and quantities against what was left in the pantry. There was some fresh produce she would need.

Suddenly, she remembered she wasn’t in Boston anymore and checked her watch. Half past seven. Damn. The grocery store closed at eight. She mulled the decision over in her head for a minute before taking the leap. She was going to make a run for it.

As she was gathering up her things, the cat chirped and jumped down off the counter. Harry had completely forgotten she was there, so she was startled again.

“Don’t do that!” she chided. “Come on, you’ve got to go. I need to run to the IGA and they close at eight. Move it or get locked in!”

The cat continued to chirp at her and wound between her feet as they left, almost making her trip a couple times.

“Look,” Harry said as she locked up the back. “I’m sorry to ruin your nice warm nap, but I have a bakery to open, and I kind of want it to do well, so I need apples and bananas for muffins. Surely, you can forgive me this one time?”

The cat meowed one last time before taking off into the night.

Harry sighed. “I guess that’s a yes?”

She jingled her keys and unlocked her car. 7:37. Because there was barely any GPS service, she hoped she remembered enough about her trip there earlier to find it again in the eerie, pitch-black that could only come from a serious lack of light pollution.

When she got to the IGA, the produce was right up front so she didn’t have to do any sort of mad dash to get what she needed. Their selection was alright but once she was up and running more with the bakery and knew her budget, she could figure out who Ginger used as a wholesale supplier.

Bundles of apples and bananas in hand for some quick muffins, Harry made her way to the front. When she got there she was surprised to see Liam in line in front of her with the male model from the bookstore. Zayn, maybe? There had been so many names.

“Harry, hey!” Liam called when he spotted her. Zayn stayed with their groceries as Liam made his way over. “How was your first day in Partridge Point?”

“It was good,” she said before holding out the bags of fruit in front of her. “Just picking up some things so I can have something to sell tomorrow.”

Liam looked gravely concerned. “Don’t push yourself too hard. Give yourself a chance to settle into the town.”

Harry waved him off. “No, no it’s okay. I just want to have enough to keep the doors open over the weekend, then come Monday and Tuesday I’m going to take some time off to really focus on the upstairs apartment.”

He nodded in approval. “That’s good then. If you need any help, I can send one of our cashiers over. Just give the word and they should be able to hop on the counter.”

“Thanks, Liam. That’s really sweet. I don’t have that much to sell, just what Ginger left behind and a few other things so I don’t anticipate that many sales yet before I can really plan what the menu will look like.”

They chatted a bit more before Zayn called out to say that they were done, so they said goodnight and went their separate ways.

Warmth bloomed in Harry’s chest. She already had friends.

Before she went to bed the night before, Harry had laid out everything she wanted to get done in the morning.

Earlier than she hoped would become her regular routine, she was rolling out of bed and hopping into her new shower. Because it was still pitch black out at four-thirty in the morning, she tested everything the night before, not wanting to be surprised.

The water heated up quickly with nice pressure, and soon enough she was dressed and bounding downstairs ready to take on the day.

She was nervous for her first day, but the biggest thing she needed to do was the easy, already prepared baking she had to do, all of which she could do in her sleep. Muffin batter came together easily, as she added her chopped up apples and mashed bananas from the IGA, and then sat off to the side resting and relaxing while she tackled everything else. Right before she opened she was going to pop them in the oven because with all of their brown sugar, cinnamon, and vanilla they would give off some really great bakery-fresh smells.

Harry took out all of the dough that had thawed overnight and rolled out croissants so they too could rest before going in the oven. She filled Ginger’s premade pie shells with her premade filling, tasting it along the way and making small adjustments wherever possible.

The clock was ticking down to eight o’clock when she wanted to open. It was late for a bakery, but she thought she might be forgiven on her first day in town. As it got closer, she started to run the coffee maker with the first batch of regular, checking the fridge to make sure she had enough milk, cream, and other various alternatives.

Maybe after the "assistant or two" Niall told her about came back—and if she turned enough of a profit—she would be able to buy an espresso machine. She wouldn’t be able to work it without the extra help because it was time consuming during peak business hours and increased order wait times, but people really loved to order lattes.

Finally, the last batch of muffins came out of the oven at five of eight and were cooling on the counter wafting apple cinnamon-y goodness. When she was done carrying all of the newly-baked goods out to the main counter and arranging them aesthetically to try and fill the glass case as best she could, Harry wiped her hands and came around to flip her sign from “Closed” to “Open” for the first time.

She didn’t have anyone right away at opening as she was standing there, so it was a little anticlimactic, but it gave her a chance to catch her breath and get back behind the cash register so she could play around with it. She tested it the night before but hadn’t learned all of the touchscreen bells and whistles.

As she was pressing buttons, the little bell above the door rang out lightly in the peace and quiet, signaling Niall’s arrival.

“Morning, Harry,” he said from the front door with a wide smile on his face.

“Morning, Niall!” She wasn’t sure if he was there in a professional capacity or looking to be her first sale, so she didn’t say anything, not wanting to pressure him.

He came over, eyeing the glass display case, mouth agape. “How did you manage to get all this done?”

His disbelief was a buoy to Harry’s spirits. She really had managed to pull something out of thin air thanks to Ginger’s prep.

“Ginger left some of it behind, doughs and things. I put it all together last night and this morning so I could have something to put out.”

Niall shook his head. “Well it looks and smells amazing. What do you recommend?”

Harry leaned down to look at the case with him and pointed out the muffins. Niall seemed like a muffin guy, she could tell.

“I’ll take a banana please. And a large coffee with cream and three sugars.”

Harry made a childish face at his coffee order and they both laughed as she ripped the packets open and filled the bottom of the cup before pouring the hot coffee over it. They chatted a little more about her trip to the IGA the night before, the apartment, and how her first night had been. He was effectively her superintendent so it was good to know he was attentive, but Harry hadn’t expected anything less after spending so much time with him and getting to know him the day before.

Niall insisted on paying for his breakfast and being Harry’s first sale. As he was on his way out the door, a young couple was approaching the shop. He held the door open for them and thanked Harry for the delicious breakfast—that he hadn’t tasted yet—in a comically loud voice.

After that, it felt like the door never closed for more than a few minutes at a time. Harry could tell that a lot of the people were looky-loos just hoping to catch a glimpse of the new baker in town but she appreciated the exposure nonetheless. She took any opportunity she could to explain the day’s provisional menu, and what everyone could expect to see in the future. There were a few interesting questions, quite a few unnecessary suggestions, and only one person who turned their nose up at the idea of allergy-friendly alternatives.

Harry was so engrossed talking to a mom and her adorable seven-year-old daughter about what she would like to order when trying to cater kids parties in the future that she didn’t hear the bell on the door go again.

The mom’s phone vibrated where it was resting on the glass case after she had shown Harry some of the ideas she had pinned on Pinterest, and whatever message she got made her realize they were running late.

“Thanks again, Harry. I can’t wait for you to get started with your menu,” she said as she ushered her daughter to the front door.

When Harry looked up she caught the eye of the gorgeous woman who had been talking to Niall the day before. The one who had a new outfit on—a black turtleneck with a camel colored coat belted over it this time—but still looked as though she had stepped out of the pages of Après Ski.

Her wavy brown hair glinted in the morning sunlight and was pulled back in a French braid, but shorter pieces fell artfully around her face, framing it beautifully.

Harry was probably drooling.

From everything Niall had told her, and what Harry had guessed the night before, this had to be the mysterious Louis.

Probably-Harry’s-new-boss-Louis waved hello to the little girl and her mother as they were leaving, smiling indulgently until the bell rang out to signal that they had left. They were alone in the quiet bakery.

“Hello,” Louis said, training her attention on Harry now as she approached the small side counter. There were only two or three barstools, but she climbed up onto one and, sitting back a bit from the counter, perched herself gracefully with one leg crossed over the other.

Speak, Harry. she told herself.

“Hi,” she cleared her throat and shook herself out of it. “I’m Harry.” She reached across the counter with an outstretched hand.

Louis took it, and her grip was surprisingly strong. Not too strong, and not light and delicate like Harry might have suspected from her style, but firm. It was perfect, okay? Everything about her was perfect. Harry was not coping well.

“I’m Louis, the owner, as I’m sure Niall has explained to you.” Her eyes were bright blue and overwhelming in the way they were so laser focused on Harry. “How is your first day going?”

Suddenly, the realization that Louis was her new boss slammed though Harry. Louis was also the woman at the center of a full town legend solely because everyone fell in love with her right away and wanted to be with her. Harry needed to snap out of her haze immediately, it was inappropriate on so many levels.

“Great, yeah,” she thumbed over her shoulder to point towards the display case. “Ginger left a bunch of prepared things behind and that’s been a great help for today.”

Louis took the invitation for what it was and glided down off the stool, crossing over to the glass case. “Oh, wow. This is great. Didn’t you just get into town yesterday?”

Harry shrugged. “I had enough from Ginger, and enough basic pantry ingredients in the back that I was able to pull together something resembling a menu.”

Louis looked up and met Harry’s eye. “Well, I’m glad Ginger took care of her pantry.”

Harry leaned over the case, she didn’t want Louis to misunderstand and think ill of Ginger, but she wanted to share her theory. “I’m pretty sure she left me all those premade things on purpose.”

It was a litmus test for what sort of silent partner, semi-boss Louis was going to be. Harry was pleased when she threw her head back and laughed.

“I’ll be damned. She knew exactly what she was doing.”

“I think so,” Harry agreed. “But that’s Ginger. She loves a bit of the dramatic.”

Louis nodded, her lips pursed around a smile. “She does indeed.” She returned to her perch on the barstool.

“Can I get you anything?” Harry asked, indicating the display behind her.

Louis thought about it for a moment but shook her head. “No, no thank you. I’m not a very big pastry person and I had breakfast before I left the house this morning.”

Harry was mildly offended. “Not a pastry person?”

Sheepishly, Louis reached up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “I’ve never been a sweets person in general. I prefer my indulgent food to come by way of a burger and fries.”

Harry eyed her and tried not to smile too widely. She was so beautiful. “I don’t believe that. You’ve never had one pastry in your life that you thought was better than a burger and fries?”

Louis crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at Harry. Harry tamped down the butterflies in her stomach.

“Well, there was this one—”

“Ha!” Harry cried out. “I knew it.”

Louis laughed at Harry’s antics and leaned in to rest her elbows on the counter. “Don’t get too cocky. It’s very obscure, I’ve only really seen it one place. Or, country, rather.”

“Try me,” Harry challenged.

“When I was studying abroad in Florence I would walk through the streets and there was this café on a pretty touristy street. But early in the morning, when I was walking to school, instead of tourists it was filled with all these old Italian men down for their morning espresso and pastry.”

Harry was charmed, as if she hadn't been already. Louis painted a beautiful picture.

“Anyway, they’re these little pies. Handheld. Filled with lots of different flavors, but I don’t really know what the filling was. There was one that was dark purple, and that one was my favorite.”

Harry wracked her brain. Italian pastry was her specialty. She would have to check, but she was pretty sure Louis was talking about crostata, which was basically Italian pie dough that they used for lots of different deserts, but was made differently than any other classic pie dough in the world. The dark purple was probably blackberry, mora, if she knew the Italians.

“Hmm. Do you think you would recognize the name if I said it?”

Louis raised a delicately shaped eyebrow. “Do you think you know what it is?”

“Possibly,” she smirked.

Louis stared at her for a second longer, narrowing her eyes again in good humor. “I don’t believe you. You’re just trying to impress me.”

Harry leaned in closer, drawn to Louis' completely unexpectedly playful energy. “We’ll have to find out, won’t we?”

Laughing again, Louis shifted her weight and sat back in her chair. “Stop distracting me,” she cried. “That’s the whole reason I came over here. I wanted to talk to you about the bakery.”

Right, of course. Louis was her boss. Harry was beginning to realize she was going to have to repeat that mantra over and over again until she got it through her head.

“Yes, the bakery.”

Louis rolled her lips together as her expression grew more serious. “As I’m sure Niall has explained, I own the bakery. I bought it from Ginger.”

Just as she tried to continue the bell above the door rang. Harry smiled apologetically at her but she brushed it off and indicated that Harry should help her customer.

The older woman who came in said she was one of the volunteers that brought treats over to sell in the interim, and told Harry how much fun she had selling her baked goods in a shop that way. Harry thanked her profusely and told her how excited she was to be in town. The woman bought one of the cookies, and the last of the apple cinnamon muffins before waving goodbye.

When Harry turned back around to talk to Louis, she was smiling at her.

“Sorry about that,” Harry said, nervous about how much time she had taken with the customer while Louis was waiting for her.

Louis shook her head. “No, don’t be. It was sweet, and I wouldn’t want you to alienate anyone in the community, especially not one of the women that was so helpful.”

“It was nice of you to let them come in and sell.”

Avoiding the compliment with the hint of a blush, Louis turned the conversation back to business. “As I was saying before, I bought the bakery from Ginger a little while ago. That means I take on the responsibility of managing the expenses like rent and such using what you bring in for revenue. I pay a salary and benefits the same way any other job would. She and I had an agreement, and it’s the same agreement I have with all of my businesses. I can bring a copy for you later for you to sign, now that it’s pretty clear that Ginger is gone for good.”

Harry nodded. She could read it, and as much as she hated to admit it, scan a copy to her step-dad so he could read it too and make sure she wasn’t selling her soul. Based on how everyone else in town talked about Louis and all the good she had done for the town, Harry didn’t think there was much reason to worry.

“Of course.” Harry wasn’t sure how to ask all of the questions she could feel waiting at the tip of her tongue, but so far Louis had proven herself to be a straightforward person.

Louis gave her an opening. “Do you have questions for me?”

Harry took a deep breath. This was her first time managing anything like this on her own and it was going to take her a little while to get used to feeling confident enough to go after what she wanted. “Yes, I do.”

Louis nodded and gestured for her to continue.

“So, these are all lovely, and I’m so glad Ginger left me most of her resources and her recipes, but I have a lot of thoughts about the menu and what I want to do. How involved do you want to be in decisions like that?”

“A little bit, I think,” Louis said after contemplating the question for a moment. “I don’t want minute to minute rundowns of exactly what you’re baking day in and day out, but if you’re going to suddenly start only serving sandwiches that directly compete with Zoey’s down the street I’d like to know.”

Harry nodded. “That makes sense. A lot of what I want to make is standard bakery fare. Some croissants, different kinds of cookies. I’ve got two big things I think I would like to start implementing right away. I’d like to change the menu with the seasons and use more seasonal ingredients, but I haven’t really seen much evidence of Ginger doing that. I’d also like to start making some more things that are allergy friendly; vegan, gluten free, dairy free, that sort of thing.”

“Yeah, all of that sounds great.” Louis smiled, “I was really sorry to see Ginger go, she was a good friend, but I think this will be a nice change of pace for the town.”

“I hope so.” Hope started to bloom in her chest at how positively Louis had reacted to her ideas. “I haven’t had the chance to look at any of her records—it’s a bit of a mess back there—but I assume she did catering orders?”

Louis’ brow furrowed. “Like cakes and stuff?”

“Yeah, cakes for weddings, parties, cupcakes, that sort of thing?”

“I think she did, yeah, but it wasn’t anything we ever talked about specifically. If you feel like you can, that might be a nice place to expand the business.”

Harry wasn’t sure she would be able to if she didn’t have reliable help on the cash register. “Niall said something about one or two assistants depending on the season? I would definitely be able to do more catering if I knew I had someone on the register."

“They’re ready to come back to work when you’re ready for them,” Louis said. “Sarah is the regular assistant, she and her boyfriend Mitch teach music lessons to kids around town and she works here as her second job. The second, seasonal one is a kid named Chris. He’s still at school but should be back after finals.”

“That’s great. Yeah, you can have Sarah come in whenever she’s ready. I would love to run some of this by her and get her opinion.”

Louis drummed her fingers on the edge of the table top excitedly. “That’s great, Harry, I’ll let her know. I’ve got to get going, but good luck, and I’ll get the copy of the management contract to you later today.”

“Yeah, great.” Harry waved goodbye to Louis as the bell rang above the door again before everything was quiet.

That… couldn’t have gone any better, Harry thought. For as mysterious as Louis was made out to be, the haughty, luxurious attitude she gave off with her clothing, and the story with the cat, she was actually nothing like any of Harry’s preconceived notions of her.

She was the most gorgeous woman Harry had ever seen and she definitely wanted to have her babies, but putting all of that aside, they seemed to get along really well. Louis made it clear she was happy to give over creative control as long as Harry didn’t go too off the rails, and that was all Harry could ask for, really.

She didn’t have much time to process their conversation because another customer came in just a few minutes later. After that it was a steady stream through the midday rush until the early afternoon when it started to taper off and she had more time between customers.

As she waited, Harry planned out what she was going to do for Sunday based on everything that had sold so far throughout the day.

In the midst of her calculations the bell rang, and the door opened… but there was no customer. Harry froze, her heart pounding in her ears as she peered over the counter.

The cat jumped up onto the counter right in her face, making her yelp and jump back.

“Why did you do that?” she asked the cat.

The cat sat comfortably upright, watching her for a moment before getting up and strutting across the counter.

“I’m still not positive you should be up here. I’m pretty sure it violates a couple of health codes.”

Instead of paying Harry any mind, the cat stopped in front of the barstool Louis had been sitting in earlier before gracefully hopping down onto the seat and turning around until she was watching Harry again, like she was waiting to be served.

Giggling to herself, Harry whipped out her phone and snapped a picture. The cat once again was able to express how entirely unamused she was, but she made no move to leave.

“You should probably leave.” She and Harry stared each other down.

When the bell rang and another customer came in, Harry glanced at the cat pointedly, but nothing changed. Harry supposed cat cafés existed in the rest of the world, so clearly there was something about it that might be alright. At least she had gotten down off the counter.

Eventually, the cat curled up on the seat of the barstool and napped for the rest of the afternoon until it was closing time.

“Time to go, kitty cat,” Harry said as she flipped both the sign and the lock on the front door. She approached the cat and scratched her head before letting her hand trail down the ridge of her spine. “You can come out the back door with me.”

Harry packed up and the cat followed her out the back just like Harry asked, but instead of disappearing into the late afternoon dusk, she raced up the back steps leading to Harry’s apartment. Before stopping and meowing at the door waiting for Harry to unlock it.

Harry rolled her eyes. This cat had her totally whipped and it didn’t even have a name.

“Fine, fine.”

Carrying her stuff into the kitchen, Harry set everything down and stretched her back out for a moment as she contemplated what she wanted to do for dinner. She bought a few prepared meals at the store, and she was tired enough that she decided to pop one in the oven.

That sorted, she went to her room and changed into her comfy clothes. Curiously, the cat didn’t follow her. She was waiting in the kitchen when Harry returned.

“I don’t have any cat food. But I’ve got some milk.” She poured a little into a bowl and set it down on the floor. The cat approached it and took a few sips, but then walked away, leaving it there on the floor.

“Right, well I’m sorry madame,” Harry said in an exaggerated voice.

The timer beeped on her store-bought lasagna and she pulled it out of the oven. She let it rest for a few minutes before she served herself.

Her phone said it was six forty-five and she pulled out her notes, trying to decide if she was going to run to the IGA again or not. The bakery’s Sunday hours were a bit shorter, so she wouldn’t have to wake up as early if she wanted to get some more muffins in the oven, but she could always get some different ingredients and come up with something else.

The whole time she ate the lasagna she went back and forth in her head, but by the time the village church bell rang for the seven o’clock hour she had decided to go back to the IGA. She grabbed her car keys and the cat wouldn’t let her pick her up, so she had to take the extra few minutes to try and lead her out the door so she could leave.

“Louis! Hi,” Harry said as the other—still impossibly glamorous—woman got out of her car right next to Harry in the IGA parking lot.

Harry had really only been in town for two days. That was it. Thirty-six hours, if she was being technical. But this was a small town, and that meant running into people at the grocery store already.

Why did everyone in this town go to the grocery store at eight o’clock at night?

“Hi, Harry.” She sounded a little out of breath. If Louis hadn’t still looked like a supermodel, Harry would have wondered if she had just been working out or something. That made Harry think about Louis in yoga pants and a sports bra, and she just really didn’t need that image in her head if she wanted to concentrate on anything else. “Getting stuff for tomorrow?”

“Uh—” Harry’s brain had short-circuited. Louis was asking her something. “Yes! Yeah, for tomorrow.”

Louis nodded and walked with her towards the sliding glass door so they could go inside. “Niall told me you’re going to close for Monday and Tuesday to get settled. I think that’s a great idea. Maybe when you’ve gotten a chance to look over the books and stuff, we can talk about ordering. Ginger usually did it on her own, but I’m happy to help if you need me.”

“No, no. I don’t want to be a bother. I’m happy to do it, I just need the information for the vendors. You’ve got enough on your plate.”

It was true, with all of the businesses she owned around town, Harry wasn’t sure how Louis kept up with it all.

“Yeah,” Louis laughed self-deprecatingly. “I do have a fair amount going on.”

They fell into silence for a moment as they both got shopping carts. It was kind of odd to see a woman like Louis—who Harry knew was basically sitting on piles of money—doing her own grocery shopping. Though it wasn’t like rural Vermont was New York or Boston where everything could be delivered for a price.

“Oh! That reminds me. I’ve got the agreement for you in my car. I was going to stick in the mailbox tonight before I headed home.”

The agreement she needed to sign, right. “Yeah, sure. I had actually forgotten about it this afternoon. Somehow this village cat has wormed her way—” She clammed up as she suddenly remembered the story Niall told her about Louis and the cat and the small metallic key strung around the cat’s neck.

Louis grimaced. “I know you’ve heard the story, Harry.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think before I spoke. She’s a very lovely cat. Bit snooty for someone who can’t talk back, but still, lovely. Friendly.”

Louis threw her head back and laughed, and Harry decided it was the most wonderful sound in the world.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. I promise. I don’t normally talk about it with employees I’ve only known for the better part of a day, but it’s alright.”

They were in the produce section, and they weren’t technically shopping together, but surely it would be rude to walk away from Louis at this point even though she was distracted, concentrating deeply on picking out an onion.

Instead of separating all together, Harry simply moved a little farther to the fruit section.

“So,” she started as Louis came closer, onion in hand. “Is it true? You’re not going to date anyone unless they can retrieve the key?”

Louis made a face. “Is that how Niall’s telling it these days?”

“Is that not the truth?” she hedged.

Louis stopped for a minute to contemplate the containers of prepackaged lettuce. “I guess it is. I was never going to stick to it as a hard and fast rule, but now I suppose there’s precedent.”

Harry laughed with her this time, disappointment taking root in her chest. If Louis was falling back on this town legend as an excuse not to date, she clearly just didn’t want to date. That was fine, and Harry totally respected her decision. She did. Really.

She would just have to have babies with the next funny, kind, and glamorous older woman she came across.

“You should come with us next time we all grab a drink,” Louis added, making Harry’s breath catch in her throat. “This week, probably, to recover from the holiday weekend.”

“Us? Meaning you, Niall, Liam, and Zayn? That sounds fun.” Harry could be casual.

“Yeah. The bakery assistant Sarah I told you about, and her boyfriend Mitch, come sometimes too.”

“I can’t wait to meet her.”

“It’s settled, then,” Louis said definitively as they turned along the back wall where the dairy section started.

They approached the built in refrigerated shelves and Harry reached for a half gallon of whole milk. “Now that I’ve wasted some on the cat earlier,” she joked.

Louis rolled her lips together humming in agreement. “You know I read somewhere that milk and cream really isn’t great for cats.”

“What?” Harry exclaimed, still clutching the half gallon.

“Yeah. Read it somewhere,” Louis said as she reached for a block of sharp cheddar cheese a bit farther down.

It wasn’t even an important fact in her life, but somehow Harry’s whole world had turned on its axis. “You mean to tell me, the seminal holiday classic While You Were Sleeping taught me a lie?”

Louis paused and stared at her. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“Sandra Bullock pours her cat some milk, but the cat runs away so she dunks one of her Oreos in it.”

“Ew,” Louis scrunched her nose up in disgust.

“No, it’s cute!” Harry replied before stopping to actually think about it. “Okay, maybe it’s a little weird. But that movie is one of my favorites.”

“Well, I’m sorry but Sandra Bullock was wrong.”

They pushed their carts into the first aisle. “Now I’m sorry I served it to the kitty earlier, but she didn’t drink much of it at all. Just a few tiny sips so she should be fine.”

“Yeah, she’s fine,” Louis replied absentmindedly.

Because Louis practically owned the whole town, she got stopped in the store. A lot. It was nice, though, because Harry recognized one or two people that had come in to the bakery earlier. Anyone she didn’t know, Louis introduced to her, and then as they walked away, gave her the cliff notes on each person.

“...he runs the inn down the road.”

“...they only move up here in the winter to ski.”

“...her husband cheated on her with his secretary so she keyed his car.”

It was all exceedingly helpful.

At any point in the evening, Harry half expected Louis to realize who she was with and start pushing her cart at an alarming speed to get away from her, but she never did. Surely someone as sophisticated as Louis didn’t need to spend time with someone like Harry who perpetually had flour in her hair and was wearing ratty old sweats to the grocery store under her winter coat.

Despite Harry’s insecurities about it, they had a great time weaving in and out of the aisles casually doing their shopping.

By the time they checked out and loaded up their cars again a little after the eight o’clock closing, Harry was feeling better and better about her decision to pack up everything and move to a random town in Vermont.

❅❅❅

Sarah, as it turned out, was a godsend of an assistant. She was a little quiet, but incredibly smart and good with customers most of whom already knew her as a friendly face.

And, again, Harry was left wondering about the number of attractive millennials in such a small town. Statistically, it just didn’t make sense.

Either way, she began to settle into her new life quite quickly. Her first orders of wholesale supplies started arriving so she could start making her own doughs instead of relying on Ginger’s leftovers and whatever she could find at the IGA.

With every day that passed, they inched closer and closer to Christmas. They were also well into ski season, and every day there were more and more tourists coming through town, and consequently the bakery. Harry had to adjust her routine to do most of her baking in the evening so that she could open bright and early at six-thirty in the morning to catch the early risers.

The cat continued to come into the bakery in the afternoons and sit with her and Sarah through closing and all of Harry’s evening prep.

The first time Harry tried to serve her cat food she hadn’t appreciated it. She had practically spit it back out at Harry.

“Fine, I’m not going to even try to feed you, then,” Harry replied, exasperated.

Their tentative truce lasted until the night Harry decided to make herself a roast chicken and veggies to prepare a bunch of meals for the week. The cat howled at her and jumped up on the counter in her apartment—where Harry insisted she wasn’t supposed to be—and started stealing bits from Harry’s plate.

It was Harry, this time, who wasn’t amused.

“Are you kidding me?” She said, deadpan, as she watched the cat chomp away happily. “What makes you think you’re allowed to have any of that?”

She shooed the cat off the counter before eventually giving in and giving her some of the scraps from the carcass on a plate on the floor.

“But just this once, it’s not like I eat roast chicken all the time.”

The cat chirped, and Harry knew in that moment that she was totally whipped.

Meanwhile, speaking of whipped, Harry’s crush on Louis hadn’t dissipated. Every time Louis came to the bakery to discuss business, or even just walked by with a wave to visit someone else on Main Street, Harry melted.

She always knew a gorgeous older woman would be her downfall, she just hadn’t seen this one coming when she agreed to move to Partridge Point. In addition to being totally and completely out of Harry’s league, there was a whole town legend about just how untouchable this particular woman was.

Harry didn’t even know if Louis was gay. Probably not. Ugh.

One afternoon on a warmer day, Louis walked by the window from one building to another but hadn’t stopped to put on her coat. She had a gorgeous black turtleneck on—she looked so elegant in turtlenecks—with a blackwatch plaid knit cardigan on top of it and black cigarette pants.

Catching Harry’s eye through the window, she smiled and waved gracefully before walking quickly to her next destination.

She was so hot.

Harry groaned and put her head in her hands.

She forgot that Sarah was in the back.

“Got the hots for Louis, huh?”

“No,” Harry pouted. Sarah didn’t look very convinced.

A week later, Harry was invited to her first night out with her new friends in town. Because the holidays were going to be a busy time for everyone, it was probably going to be Harry’s last free night until the beginning of January.

Between holiday catering orders and her family coming to stay with her for Christmas, she needed to plan her time out very carefully.

One thing she definitely shouldn’t have been doing with her precious time was recipe testing. Sure, the recipe she developed turned out to be incredible and once her surprise was revealed she was definitely going to add them to the menu at least seasonally, but for now? She didn’t need to be baking things just to impress Louis.

And yet, there she was, heading over to the local bar, with a Christmas bakery box in hand tied with a pretty red ribbon.

The temperatures had dropped dramatically over the past two weeks since she first came to Partridge Point. She was bundled up from head to toe as she pushed in the front door of the bar and felt the warm, beer-tinged air hit her in the face.

It was a charming restaurant, meant to emulate an Irish pub but with a Vermonter twist. Cozy and warm with a roaring fire and dark wood, it also felt slightly like a ski lodge.

The first person she spotted was Niall who waved her over to their table. Sarah and Mitch were already there, with Liam as well. Zayn and Louis looked to be the last to arrive. Harry had kind of been hoping for a chance to give Louis her gift when it was just the two of them because she didn’t bring a gift for anyone else, but she could always chalk it up to Louis being her boss.

“Hey, guys,” she greeted as she put the box down and started peeling off layers of clothing, hanging her coat on the post on the outside of their enclosed bench.

“Ooh, what’s in the box?” Niall asked, his eyes lighting up. While Louis didn’t like pastries all that much, Harry discovered that Niall was quite fond of them and came by the bakery all the time. Harry’s new policy was that he could have all the leftovers, day-olds, or screw ups. He was no longer allowed to eat the merchandise.

Sarah smirked. “I know what it is,” she said sneakily.

Of course she knew. As much as Harry tried to hide what she was doing, Sarah had borne witness to her struggles.

“It’s a surprise,” Harry said as she leaned down to slide into the bench. The seats would be just big enough for the seven of them if they squished, but Harry liked it. The sides were high so it felt cozy and intimate.

She regretted the coziness immediately though, because Louis breezed in with her hair perfectly curled down around her shoulders looking windblown and natural and gorgeous. After she greeted everyone and hung her coat up over Harry’s on the hook, she dove straight in for the seat next to Harry on the outside edge of the table.

Before Louis could get settled, Zayn came in to join them. Liam realized that in his place against the wall he would be unable to talk to his boyfriend, so all three of them filed out and shifted so it was Harry against the wall, squished in with Louis next to her and Liam and Zayn on the end. They were tight but not uncomfortable. All of them except Harry.

Louis’ warm thigh was pressed up against hers and every time one of them moved Harry could feel the friction between their bodies.

It was fine, that was a totally normal thing to happen with friends. She had lived through twenty-nine years of this so far, it would take more than one night pressed up against Louis for her to absolutely lose it.

Louis turned to Harry. “Hello there,” she murmured with a quick wink. Quick enough that Harry wasn’t even sure it was real.

The waitress came over and everyone who arrived put in their drink and appetizer orders. Harry didn’t know the menu so it was declared by someone—probably Niall—that she could try everyone else’s orders and see what she liked best.

“So,” Louis said as she turned back to Louis once the table had mellowed to a nice din of conversation instead of the chaos of drink ordering. “What’s in the box, Harriet?”

Something deep in Harry’s gut fluttered at the teasing lilt to her voice and the new nickname. Could it be a nickname if it was longer than her real name?

Their friends stopped and turned to watch them.

“Well, it’s a gift. For you.” Harry pushed the box until it was resting in front of Louis on the table and in better view for everyone. “Merry early Christmas. I’m going to be kind of busy, so I wanted to give it to you now.”

“Busy is good,” Louis said enthusiastically. “I love busy.” The twinge of guilt reminded Harry that Louis was her boss and belonged firmly in the “untouchable” category and this gift was probably a little over the top for that sort of relationship, but she couldn’t take it back now.

“Just a little something for you,” Harry said as Louis tugged at one end of the red satin ribbon. It came apart easily and fell away from the sides of the box.

When Louis lifted the lid there were twelve little crostata di more sitting there with little stars on top floating on a sea of deep purple, almost black, blackberry jam.

Louis gasped. “Harry!”

Because it was a baker’s box, Louis flipped the lid all the way back until it was entirely flat so everyone else could see them.

“I’ve never seen anything like that,” Liam said as he peered over Louis’ shoulder, confused. Harry understood, it wasn’t exactly a common pastry, that was sort of the whole point of the gift. Louis got it.

“Crostata di more,” Harry explained to the rest of the table.

“That’s dark,” Mitch nodded in approval. It was the most he had ever said to Harry so far, so she would take it.

Harry laughed. “It’s not death or anything. Blackberries are more in Italian.”

Louis still hadn’t said anything else, she was just sort of looking at them. “I used to have them all the time when I lived in Italy.”

“Ah,” Niall said. He waited for her to eat one, but she was still admiring them. “Well, go on. Try it.”

Louis snapped out of it then, and turned to Harry again. With the angle of the seat, and Harry being trapped in the corner it sort of did feel like they were alone together, cut off from everyone else. Private. Even though they weren’t.

“Thank you, Harry.”

Blushing with the intensity of her gaze, Harry nudged the box. “Go on, try it. This could all be useless if they don’t taste right.”

Louis picked one up and bit into it. Harry watched her eat it with a critical eye. The crust didn’t crumble apart completely, that was probably the little bit of egg in it to bind it together unlike traditional American pie dough. The blackberry jam was set enough that it showed a ghost of Louis’ teeth marks and didn’t squish everywhere. That was the most important part.

Then, Louis moaned. “These are incredible,” she said. Or, at least Harry thought that was what she said, but her mouth was still full and Harry was still recovering from the sex noise Louis made.

“Uh…” Harry short circuited again.

Niall was already lifting up off the seat and reaching for one when he asked, “Can I try one?”

Louis, rather impressively, held the rest of her pastry in one hand while she lifted the lid and slammed it closed with the other. “No! Mine!”

Everyone laughed as Niall slammed back down in the bench seat.

“We can have them after dinner,” Harry said, placating the crowd and slowly taking the box from Louis so she could make sure it was out of the way of their appetizers that were beginning to arrive.

Louis took her second bite of pastry and her eyes fluttered shut as she chewed it. When she was done, her whole torso shifted towards Harry.

“Seriously, thank you. These are just how I remember them.”

Suddenly, the extra hours she spent testing out different crostata recipes didn’t feel so wasted any more.

Blushing again, Harry shook her head. “Actually I should be thanking you. They’re a great addition to the bakery and you can fill them with practically anything so I think it will be a good recipe to keep around and fill with seasonal toppings.”

“Plus you can charge more if you use the Italian name and don’t just call them mini pies,” Louis pointed out as she brushed the crust crumbs off the front of her sweater.

Harry threw her head back and laughed. “That’s very true. Didn’t think about that.”

“That’s what I’m here for, Harriet. Those sorts of very important business decisions.”

They were interrupted as everyone started doling out the food that arrived, and conversation started shifting quickly.

By the end of the night, walking back down Main Street with her new friends, more than slightly tipsy and warm—even though it was definitely somewhere below thirty degrees outside—Harry couldn’t believe how different her life had become in just a few short weeks.

❅❅❅

Harry could see the light at the end of the tunnel. There were three more days until Christmas Eve. That was all she needed to get through before her family arrived in town to stay for the holiday.

Harry was busy, stressed, stretched thin, and really not getting enough hours of sleep, but she was absolutely loving it. It was almost all catering orders. She was making cookies, cupcakes, muffins, and cakes for holiday parties, home celebrations, birthdays, gifts, and even one emergency wedding cake.

She couldn’t believe how well received the bakery had been in town, she couldn’t have asked for anything better, and her revenue was going through the roof. Louis hadn’t said anything about it explicitly, but she had to have noticed the bakery traffic.

Louis was coming by the bakery at least once a day to check in with Harry to see how business was going.

At first, before it got hectic, Louis would come in and sit at the bar like she did the first time. Soon, though, Sarah was busy manning the front and trying to keep up with the regular inventory while Harry held down the fort in the back kitchen preparing and baking all of the catering orders.

So, Louis adjusted. When she came to check in, she would pull up a stool in the back and sit with Harry for a few minutes to chat.

Most of the time it really was about business, but sometimes she just stayed to shoot the breeze, not caring that Harry was working while they talked. For all that Louis remained incredibly mysterious and aloof, Harry felt like she was just beginning to get a peek underneath the cool, calm, collected businesswoman exterior.

The last thing Harry had to bake for, after all of the catering orders were done, was the Christmas Festival in town that would take place all day on Christmas Eve. People from all over Vermont came to see it, and it was one of the events Partridge Point was known for during the holiday season.

Ginger Snapped! had a booth that Harry was going to man during the day before her family got to town. Then, Harry had it all planned. She was going to run home, shower, change, and get an early Christmas Eve dinner in the oven so they could eat before heading back out again. Sarah and Mitch agreed to take over the booth at night so that Harry and her family could actually attend and enjoy the atmosphere.

Harry was glad she was so busy because she was restless with anticipation. She talked to her family every day, obviously, but she couldn’t wait until she got to see them and they could see how well she had settled into her new life.

Christmas Eve dawned, and Harry was up bright and early. She was completely caught up on all the catering orders. Almost all of them had been picked up already as well, which was a record for her. At Farina she felt like people were always rushing in at the last minute or missed their pick up window entirely. It was always the people that were most insistent about deadlines that were late to pick up, too.

Harry was also totally ready to face a day out in the cold at the Christmas Festival. She was armed with her till, her little space heater for the booth, and all of the HotHands packets she could find.

Thankfully, the day was nice and crisp with blue skies and no precipitation in sight. She loaded everything up in her car and drove over to the town green at the end of the Main Street area.

Everything Harry was using still had the old Ginger Snapped! branding on it, but once the December holidays died down, before everything kicked up again in the spring for wedding season, she was thinking about redesigning the logo. Maybe she could convince Louis to help her when she convinced her to let her redo the interior of the bakery as well.

Harry got all of her goodies lined up on the acrylic shelves she brought with her. She had big baskets of different kinds of small Christmas cookies and she was letting people mix and match their own dozens for a fixed price. When she came up with it, she thought it was a fun, interactive idea. And less prep work for her than if she tried to build the bundles on her own.

She also had tons of catering order forms, samples, gingerbread men, and cupcakes. Lots of cupcakes.

Soon enough, the bell was ringing to indicate the festival was open. There were events all the way up and down Main street with Christmas displays, games, and contests.

One of the more competitive events was an elaborate gingerbread house decorating competition. Harry wove her way through the entrants quickly before the festival opened and her brain was already spinning with possibilities for her entry next year—the sign ups were due by Black Friday when she arrived in town so she had missed them this year.

Everything was covered in garland and baubles, they were piping in Christmas music all along the street, and Harry was in absolute heaven.About an hour into the start of the day, Louis walked by the booth.

“Harry, hello!” she waved and came over to get a closer view of her wares. There was a whole shelf of crostata di more because they looked so festive with the little star crust cutouts on top of them.

“Hey,” Harry felt her heart flip in her chest when Louis smiled at her. She really needed to try and get a handle on that.

They chatted for a few seconds, but it wasn’t long before Harry had to serve some customers that came to the booth.

Louis waved her off and stepped over to the side to get out of the way.

Harry happily went about helping the nice young couple. As she started explaining their catering prices and some of the different options she could put together for them if they wanted to come for a tasting, she saw something in her peripheral vision.

Louis was still standing where she had stepped to the side, right at the edge of Harry’s area. Now, though, her posture was much different. She was stock still with her feet spread apart and her hands clasped in front of her, looking at the man that was standing with her like he was a bug that needed to be squashed on the sidewalk.

He was one of the salesmen that had come from one of the ski resorts—or so Harry gleaned from his fleece vest that was emblazoned with the company logo. His hair was cut high and tight on the sides with the top combed over neatly—the way every other man was wearing his hair nowadays—and he had a smarmy look on his face.

Harry was still trying to serve the young couple who seemed very eager and in love but she couldn’t help the way her attention wandered.

“Come on, it’s just one drink! I’ll even pay.” The guy smirked at Louis like he was doing her the biggest favor in the world. Harry tried not to scoff. As if the offer to pay meant something. Wherever he wanted to take Louis for a drink, she could probably just buy the whole restaurant to avoid it. If she hadn’t already.

“No, really. I’m all set,” Louis replied, rolling her eyes quite obviously.

The man, clearly having no sense of self preservation, leaned back and looked Louis up and down lasciviously. “Baby you’re the hottest ticket around here. You’re too good for all these other guys. Not me, though. I know how to handle you.”

Louis simpered at him condescendingly. “Well, baby, haven’t you heard? Got to get the key from the cat.”

The guy laughed. “That’s ridiculous. I’m not doing that. I’ll pick you up at eight.”

Harry finally had enough. She leaned in to apologize to the couple. “I’m so sorry, there seems to be something going on over there. Please, feel free to stop by the bakery whenever you’d like. I’ll get us all some coffee and muffins and we can talk about what a wedding cake package will involve.”

The couple agreed and the man even offered to stay and help with the situation, but Harry insisted they go ahead. She had a feeling Louis could handle herself just fine.

She was proven right when she looked over and Louis had broken her stance to get in the guy’s face. Harry really thought she should probably intervene, but she didn’t know how.

“Could you be any more presumptuous?” Louis spit out. “First of all, it’s Christmas Eve, dipshit. People have real plans. With their families. No one is just going to drop everything to go out with you. Second of all, the cat story is a story for a reason. It’s not a joke and it’s not a myth. It’s a challenge.”

Harry saw her opening. “Get out of my booth, or I’m calling festival security.”

Louis jumped a little like she didn’t realize Harry was so close to her.

The guy held up his hands and backed away. “Fine. You're probably dry as a bone anyway. Fucking tight-ass,” he called over his shoulder.

Harry’s jaw dropped. Truly, she never ceased to be surprised by the audacity of men. “I’m calling festival security.”

Louis shook her head on a laugh. “Don’t bother, I have a standing, monthly, lunch meeting with the ski resorts. I would rather lull him into a false sense of security before I strike.”

“I’m shaking with anger right now,” Harry said pacing back and forth a few times and taking deep breaths.

Louis looked completely unruffled, like a photographer was going to pop out of nowhere and tell her to turn her head so the camera could capture her from a different angle. Harry had no idea how she did it, how she was so pulled together all the time.

“It happens all the time, Harry. It sucks, but I’m used to it. As silly as it is the cat story really did help to mitigate all of it.”

“Do people still try?” Harry asked.

Louis let out a short, hysterical laugh. “All the time. Mostly men. They can’t help themselves.”

Mostly men?

“Only mostly men? There are some women, too?”

Louis sighed. “The women are much more enjoyable and sportsmanlike about it. At least most of them have more of a chance than the men, anyway.”

Harry let out a little laugh in response before she realized what Louis said. Then, her heart stopped.

She tried very hard to stay composed and not regress and become non-verbal like that one scene in One Day at a Time. “ME GAY, TOO!” She was almost thirty. She could do this.

Niall saved her by appearing out of nowhere and giving her some extra recovery time. “Boss, I’ve got a bunch of permits for you to sign back at the office. I normally wouldn’t rush you, but we want to get them in by the end of the year.”

“Yeah, okay,” Louis nodded. “Are they an emergency?”

“Nah,” Niall said, crossing his arms over his chest. “The office is just a few towns over and I’m giving us an extra week, so you don’t need to drop everything and do it now. But before the end of today would probably be best.”

Louis agreed to stop by her office later.

Harry had never seen her office. She had never seen the inside of Louis’ house. Though, she supposed that wasn’t weird given they had only known each other for about a month and Louis seemed to be a deeply private person.

It was all probably just as glamorous as she was.

Business out of the way, Niall started in on Harry’s Christmas cookie pick ‘n’ mix. He quite literally looked like a kid on Christmas.

All in all Louis ended up staying at the booth with Harry for quite some time, at least an hour after Niall left, coming around behind the table finally, and answering whatever questions she could when Harry was busy with other customers. She did technically own the bakery, after all.

It was nice to have her there, but they were quite busy and unable to really stop and talk to each other much.

What there was time for, apparently, was everyone under the sun to flirt with Louis.

Harry had never really seen the phenomenon in such stark reality, but it was right there in front of her now. Each and every person around their age—though the window was pretty wide—tried their hand at flirting with her. A few even were bold enough to ask for her phone number.

Most of the men were amusing to watch as they cowered in fear under Louis’ withering stare, but there were some women mixed in too. The women were the worst for Harry. They were the worst because she had only just learned that Louis was probably a little bit gay, if not more than that. And, they were the worst, because they were much more polite than the men.

In short, they were actual viable candidates.

This one woman came up to the booth and barely even pretended to look at the pastries before she struck up a conversation with Louis. She, too, looked like Louis’ Après Ski companion with her wool coat, cashmere scarf, and matching beanie set with a fluffy pom-pom on top. Her makeup was flawless and her curls perfectly placed.

It got worse, because not only was she beautiful, but Miss Clearly-Not-a-Customer was a professor of Art History at a nearby university. She was smart, accomplished, and well traveled. This time, too, she and Louis actually exchanged business cards.

Harry wanted to throw up.

Shortly after Miss “Oh, wait! There are baked goods here too?” left to join her family, Louis left, headed to her office to sign the papers for Niall.

After she left, Harry had enough customers that she didn’t really have a chance to pout about it. Her feet were getting tired and the crowd started to thin a bit in the afternoon as families with kids finished and went home before dinner.

Even with her space heater, the cold was starting to get to Harry. Just as she thought about texting Niall to bring her something, the cat appeared out of nowhere meowing to get Harry’s attention.

“Hello there,” Harry said as she reached a hand down for the cat to rub against. She usually visited Harry in the bakery in the afternoons, but it was nice to see her there at the festival. Harry thought she might avoid it because there were so many people around and so many different ways to accidentally get underfoot.

The cat hopped up onto her lap and immediately curled up into a ball. Harry couldn’t deny the warmth was nice and helped ease a bit of the nip on her legs from the wind. But the cat had never been this affectionate before.

“Ha, well aren’t you friendly today.”

The cat lifted her head briefly before resting it back down on her paws.

Harry still texted Niall. She only had about an hour before Sarah was going to replace her, but if Niall brought her a blanket, she could leave it behind for Sarah and Mitch on the evening shift.

After Niall brought it to her, she had to lift the cat to adjust the fleece over her legs, but the cat stayed put and curled up again when Harry was done.

The day crowd had thinned out even more and preparations were underway for the lights show after dark so Harry didn’t have much left to do. She sighed as she relaxed back into the plastic chair, methodically stroking the cat along the top of her spine.

“I wonder if Louis will come back,” she mused out loud. There was no one around to hear her, and she supposed it didn’t matter if the cat knew about her ridiculous crush. Hell, the cat probably already did know.

“It’s so stupid,” Harry said, to no one, as she watched the few people that were still milling around. “All anyone does is express interest in her. Who am I to come in here and expect that I’m any different? I’m not, I know I’m not.”

The cat had lifted her head again and was studying Harry, probably just because she was talking.

“I don’t have to tell you how many people want her. I mean look at this key, you probably get harassed all the time because of that rule. She really should have thought of that before she gave it to you…” Harry was getting off track.

“Anyway, I don’t want anything from her. I just want Louis. Like when we were sitting here earlier. I just want to sit with her and talk about things.” Harry stopped talking as a family came into view and wanted to buy a few pastries for dessert.

“I can’t lie and say I haven’t thought about the other stuff, though,” she said as soon as they were gone. “The sexy stuff,” she joked before cheesily laughing. It was a testament to how bored she was that she was talking to the cat. Or maybe she was just desperate. Either way, she needed to stop or people walking by might think she was talking to herself. Which she was.

Thankfully, Sarah arrived soon after saying Mitch would join her in a few minutes so Harry was free to take off.

Aching to get out of the cold, Harry gathered what she needed and walked to where her car was parked across the street. The cat followed her, and looked for all the world like she wanted to get into the car with Harry.

Right before she closed the driver’s side door, she held it open asking if the cat wanted to hop in. “I mean, it’s only a few blocks, but I had more stuff this morning.”

The cat gracefully jumped up onto her lap before taking her spot in the passenger seat. “Well, okay then,” Harry said before whipping out her phone and taking a picture of her on the seat.

When they got to the parking lot behind the bakery they unloaded the car and climbed up the stairs together. Harry wasn’t sure why the cat was being so clingy that day of all days, but she appreciated the company.

An hour and a half later, Harry pulled the beautiful, burnished roast chicken and vegetables out of the oven and placed it on her counter to rest.

Based on the ETAs Gemma kept texting her, her family was supposed to arrive about an hour later which was plenty of time for the chicken to rest. More importantly, there was plenty of time for Harry to take a quick shower and get dressed.

She turned the oven off and turned to leave the kitchen, but as she did she saw the cat curled up on the couch.

“Oh, no. No, no no. I’m definitely not leaving you alone with the chicken on the counter, vulnerable, especially after last time.”

It hadn’t ever gone well before, but Harry took a chance and scooped up the unsuspecting cat around the middle and pulled her to her chest, supporting her feet with her other arm. The cat immediately began meowing in protest.

“I know, I’m sorry, but I need you where I know you’re not going to eat the roast.”

The cat quieted down momentarily, but when Harry entered the bathroom she started up again. Harry did her best to ignore the tortured sounds, but as soon as she turned on the water and started stripping down the cat amped it, yowling at the top of her lungs.

Standing there naked, Harry reached for her but the cat dodged her. “Shush, people are going to think I’m murdering you, what is your problem? Do you really not like the bathroom or something?”

The cat protested a few more times but the water was hot enough for Harry to get in so she did. “I promise I’ll only be in here for a second,” she called to the cat over the running water, again questioning her own sanity.

Eventually the bathroom went quiet and Harry quickly ran her shampoo through her hair and gave herself a quick scrub with body wash.

She was out again in minutes, her only real delay was sitting under the hot spray for an extra minute as she thawed from spending most of the day outside. Having the oven on to roast the chicken had been enough to warm up her apartment quickly, but this helped with that last little bit of chill.

Harry did a slightly abbreviated version of her curl routine, drying her hair about halfway with her diffuser afterwards. The cat was curled up on the mat around the base of her toilet, facing away from her towards the wall, clearly upset with how Harry had treated her.

“We can go now,” Harry said, opening the bathroom door. As soon as she did, the cat took off like a shot. But Harry had planned ahead and closed her bedroom door too. The cat started pacing back and forth in front of it. “Where’s the fire?” Harry joked.

She toweled her body off one last time before throwing on her Christmas sweater and some nicer jeans. She had cleaned her apartment the day before knowing that she wouldn’t have any other time to do it, so she was officially ready for her family to arrive.

Finally, she let the cat out of her prison. “You better not eat any chicken.”

Instead of going straight for the roast, the cat went back to her spot on the back of the couch.

“Alright, fine,” Harry said, confused by her odd behavior.

Opening the fridge, she grabbed the chicken stock she made last time she had roasted chicken and set up everything she would need on the counter to make a gravy with the drippings and some of the roasted veggies.

The cat was still sitting on the couch, completely ignoring Harry and she couldn’t help but feel wracked with guilt.

“Ugh,” she sighed before abandoning her prep station and crossing over to the couch. She settled into the corner right next to where the cat was curled up on the back cushion.

“I’m sorry, kitty,” she whispered, scratching gently at the top of the cat’s head between her ears. “I know, I tortured you. I just didn’t want you to steal anything you weren’t supposed to. That’s our Christmas dinner, you know?”

Harry leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the cat’s fluffy fur on her thigh. “I promise never to lock you in somewhere like that again.”

She was just murmuring nonsense, and she really needed to get back to making dinner, but she didn’t like the idea of the cat being upset with her.

The cat got up to stretch and adjusted her position until she was sitting up straight facing Harry. The sun had gone down outside, but Harry had turned her Christmas lights on when she got home and the bright colors reflected off the shiny metal key that hung off the collar around her neck.

After the first time or two, when the cat had run away from Harry, she hadn’t ever bothered reaching for it again, much less try to take it from her.

Harry didn’t know why, but all of a sudden, she was hit with the impulse to try again. There was something drawing her to the smooth, silver shape. It was ridiculous, especially given that she was trying to get back in the cat’s good graces, but she couldn’t stop herself.

Slowly, she lifted her hand and closed her fingers around the cool metal. The cat wasn’t running away. She was calm and unmoving except for the brief twitch of her whiskers as Harry’s hand got close to them.

“Um…” Harry felt like the cat should know she was trying to take it. “Can I have this?” she asked, even though the cat couldn’t answer and was definitely aware of what she was trying to do.

Still keeping her movements slow and steady, Harry reached for the clasp of the collar. She pressed her thumb and forefinger together over the plastic while the fingers of her other hand still held onto the key, and it released easily. The resistance of the collar fell away as she pulled it towards herself.

Harry gasped. The key was on a ring that slid off the collar smoothly and soon she was holding one piece in each hand.

“Thank you,” she choked out to the cat. This was too momentous for her to experience by herself, and the weight of what she had just done started to settle over her.

She had taken the key. Louis’ key. She could ask Louis out if she wanted to, it opened up a world of possibilities.

Harry stopped to think about it for a moment.

Did having the key make her inherently better than everyone else? Louis told the cat story, yes, and said she intended to abide by it. But Harry wasn’t sure she ever expected anyone to actually ever take the key. She had spent all this time getting to know Louis, and if she was being honest with herself, falling at least halfway in love with her, but she had never expressed any of her romantic interest to Louis. If Harry turned around and asked her out now, it might look like she was just another person trying to use her.

“I don’t know what to do with this,” she confessed as she gaped at the key in her hand.

The first thing she needed to do was put the collar back on the cat. The cat didn’t fight her, which was unusual to Harry given the amount of times she had to fight her mom’s cats to get collars on or off of them.

Soon enough she was left sitting there staring at the key again where it rested in the palm of her hand.

Her phone started vibrating loudly on the counter—more than the single buzz for a text message—and it could be her family, so Harry jumped up to answer it, closing her fist around the key.

The screen of her phone said it was Niall, and he didn’t call that often, so Harry swiped to answer it and put it on speaker, realizing just how behind she was on dinner preparations. She pocketed the key in her jeans, all too happy to ignore it until she could decide what to do.

“Hey, Niall.”

“Harry, hey. Have you seen Louis?” he sounded a little rushed and out of breath.

No, she hadn’t, not since the whole thing with Miss Blonde that afternoon. She had thought about her plenty, though.

Niall didn’t need to know that.

“No, I haven’t seen her since she sat with me in the booth this afternoon. Why? What do you need?”

Harry pulled a pan out of her cupboard and put it over a burner. She needed to move the chicken and get to the roasted veggies underneath to make her gravy.

“I’m trying to disarm the alarm at her home office to grab the paperwork I need, but she must have changed the combination.” Now that she was listening for it she could hear a faint beeping in the background.

Harry turned back to face the counter expecting to see an empty living room in front of her.

Instead, Louis was standing there in her signature chic black turtleneck. “Here I am, Niall,” she exclaimed, approaching the counter and straining towards the phone where it rested on the other side. “The code is 2412.”

Harry screamed and her metal spatula flew out of her hand, falling into her kitchen sink clamoring loudly.

“Thanks, Lou,” Niall said before the call clicked off, not questioning the fact that Louis was suddenly there when she hadn’t been before.

Harry’s heart and mind were both racing. Breathless, she cried out. “What the fuck?”

Louis smirked at her and settled on one of Harry’s stools. “Hello.”

“You—You’re here!” Harry cried out. She wasn’t sure why she was still yelling but it was probably the adrenaline surging through her body.

“Yeah, I am,” Louis said, holding her hands out like she was presenting herself.

Somehow, something in Harry’s mind cut through the confusion and her eyes darted over to where the cat had been sitting on the couch. She was gone.

The cat was gone.

Louis was there.

Harry was beginning to understand the jokes about never seeing Clark Kent and Superman in the same place at the same time.

“The cat,” she said, still unable to form sentences. “The cat’s gone.”

Louis corrected her. “Technically, not gone.”

She was admitting it. “You’re… the cat?” Harry said slowly.

“Congratulations, you’ve actually figured it out quite quickly.” Louis reached over and picked up a small roast potato from the tray before popping it in her mouth.

The brain sometimes thinks of the most ridiculous things at important moments, and for some reason hers stalled on the fact that Louis had still managed to steal some of the roast despite Harry’s best efforts.

That was when the giggles started bubbling up. She giggled once. Then twice. Then she couldn’t stop.

She kept cycling through memories of everything she and the cat had ever done together. Or all the things she had said to her.

Suddenly, her memory of that afternoon at the festival came flooding back to her, stopping her giggles in their tracks. After that, it was everything in the bathroom. She had been naked.

The more Harry thought about it, the more everything was beginning to make sense. She definitely hadn’t ever seen them in the same place at the same time, despite the cat’s story being so connected to Louis. And, there were more than a few instances when Louis managed to show up at exactly the right time, like when Harry went to the IGA.

How Louis knew cats couldn’t have milk, and then the cat didn’t eat cat food and preferred roast chicken.

All of the signs had been there, staring her in the face.

Groaning, she covered her face with her hands. “Oh my God.”

Louis must have sensed what she was thinking because she hopped up from the stool and came around the counter. “Harry,” she said carefully. She had her hands out and was approaching her cautiously.

Harry lifted her hands to her hair. “All of the things I said to you.”

Louis laughed and took a step closer. “No, no. I thought it was sweet.”

“This is so embarrassing,” Harry groaned again.

“Harry, wait,” Louis finally reached out to touch Harry’s arm, trying to pull her hands down so she could talk to her. Despite everything, Harry’s skin tingled at the warmth. “Before we go down that road. I know you have the key.”

With everything that had happened Harry had completely forgotten about the key. She gasped and pulled it out of her pocket. She didn’t know what to say, so she just held it up in the space between their bodies. Belatedly, she noticed that that space was shrinking.

“I wanted you to have it. That’s why I let you take it,” Louis whispered, closing her hand around Harry’s.

Hope soared in Harry’s chest. “Really?” she asked, still sure this was too good to be true.

“Really,” Louis nodded. “I’ve never felt this way about anybody before. That was kind of the whole point of the key in the first place.”

Her gorgeous blue eyes were shining in a way Harry had never seen. She couldn’t help herself, and lifted her free hand up to cup Louis’ cheek. “I can’t tell you how honored I am that you would let me have it.”

Instead of answering, Louis surged forward bringing their lips together. Static crackled in the air and Harry’s whole body lit up as they let go of each other’s hands and wrapped them around each other, slotting in perfectly together.

One kiss led to another, which led to another. Soon, Harry’s lips were bruised and she was seeing stars. She had no idea how long she and Louis had been standing there kissing, but she pulled away—incredibly reluctantly—with a quick peck to Louis’ lips.

“My family is going to be here any minute,” she said, just barely backing away. “I have to make the gravy.”

“Oh, right,” Louis said huffing out a breath. Harry couldn’t bear tearing her eyes away from Louis for more than a second, how was she supposed to remember how to make gravy? “I should probably go.”

Harry didn’t hesitate. “Or you could stay?”

“Do you want me to?” Louis was frozen halfway around the counter.

Maybe meeting the family was too fast. It was a silly idea. “Do you have plans for Christmas Eve?”

Louis shook her head. “No, my family is arriving tomorrow morning. We’ll celebrate my birthday then.”

“It’s your birthday?” Harry cried out. She had no idea. “You definitely have to stay now.”

Louis smirked again. That expression, the one where Louis looked young and mischievous, always made Harry weak in the knees. “You sure you don’t have ulterior motives?” She hopped up until she was supporting herself on her hands and could lean over the counter for one more kiss, and Harry leaned in to meet her halfway.

“I mean, yeah. But it’s also Christmas, and I want you to stay,” she said softly, making sure Louis knew she was serious.

“Okay,” Louis replied. “Though I don’t really have anything festive to wear.”

Right. Because she had been a cat when she came over. They still needed to talk about the mechanics of that.

Harry opened her mouth to ask the question, but remembered that they didn’t really have time to get into it. “Feel free to raid my closet. Especially because you probably know where everything is already,” she teased.

“Ha, ha, very funny.”

Once Louis was up in the bedroom, Harry turned back to the pan. Her life had been drastically altered in the short time since she had taken this pan out to make gravy in it.

She stared at the pan for another second or so before finally picking up the tray of veggies and drippings and pouring them into the skillet.

Everything that had happened in her life since she came to Partridge Point for the Christmas season seemed to be happening in fast forward. While it had all been exciting, there was something equally exciting about the idea of getting the chance to slow down and enjoy it.