Saturdays in Elden Bridge had a particular rhythm. By nine a.m., the scent of cinnamon from Gretel's bakery had wrapped around Main Street. The clink of coffee mugs echoed from Brew & Bloom. The townspeople, ever creatures of habit, shuffled between farmer's stands, gossip, and church parking lot banter.
Violet Morgan rarely left her bookstore during the Saturday bustle. But today, she stood in the middle of her mother's greenhouse-turned-sitting-room, an accidental hostage to conversation and strong opinions.
"You let him sit in the reading nook?" Caroline Morgan repeated, her eyes wide with theatrical horror.
"I didn't let him. He came in. He was kind." Violet sipped her lukewarm tea, trying not to scald herself with annoyance.
"He's a Carlisle." Caroline set down her porcelain cup like it was made of lead. "Their name is practically a cautionary tale in this family."
Violet's younger cousin, Daphne, perched on the arm of a floral settee, interjected with a whisper, "What if he's the romantic kind of cursed?"
"Daphne, this isn't a storybook," Caroline snapped.
Violet smirked. "Feels like one lately."
The door to the sitting-room opened, and in walked Aunt Genevieve—Caroline's sister and the family's self-proclaimed peacemaker. Wearing a turquoise kaftan and an alarming feathered brooch, she flopped dramatically into the room's largest chair.
"I ran into Margot Carlisle this morning," she announced, fanning herself with an empty seed packet.
A beat of silence fell. Even Daphne stopped chewing her cinnamon stick.
"She was wearing fur and condescension," Genevieve added. "Said her 'boy' is rediscovering his roots. Apparently, he's 'developing an artistic sensibility' in our little village."
Caroline muttered something that sounded suspiciously like pretentious snake.
Violet stared out the greenhouse window. Outside, the orchard shimmered in frost. "He's not like them," she said softly. "He listens. He sees things."
Caroline rose, her voice sharpening. "Don't mistake interest for intimacy, Violet. You're your grandfather's daughter—dreamy and stubborn. But dreams can't protect you from disappointment."
"Maybe not," Violet replied. "But walls don't make much room for joy, either."
---
Later that day, Violet found herself pulled into town by Tessa Barnes, who had stormed into the bookstore proclaiming an "emergency dress situation." It turned out the emergency was more about coaxing Violet out of her tension bubble than actual fashion.
They landed at Petunia & Pearl, the town's eccentric boutique run by a retired stage actress named Fiona, who wore sequins like armor.
"I need something flirty but not desperate," Tessa said to Fiona. "We're having dinner with Raj and some new couple he's matchmaking. It could be chaos. I want to look dangerous in a 'my lipstick might be poison' way."
Violet snorted, trailing behind them in the racks.
"You," Fiona said, suddenly turning to Violet. "Need to stop hiding behind cardigans."
"I'm not hiding."
"You're wearing three shades of beige."
"It's called layering."
"It's called beige."
Tessa held up a dark green wrap dress. "Try this."
"I'm not going to Raj's dinner."
"You are. Because it's at your bookstore."
Violet froze. "What?"
"I needed space with mood lighting and literary ambiance."
"Tessa—"
"Please. Raj already set the table between the romance and travel sections."
Violet groaned. "Fine. But I'm not wearing the dress."
"You will. Or I'll bring your mother."
Violet wore the dress.
---
The dinner party was predictably chaotic. Raj arrived early, carrying two mismatched candles and a crockpot full of "experimental stew." Tessa fluttered between adjusting lighting and interrogating the couple Raj invited—Maya and Luis, who had recently moved to Elden Bridge and looked both enchanted and terrified.
Adam arrived last.
He stepped through the door wearing a dark sweater and a hesitant smile. His gaze found Violet immediately, softening when he saw her in green.
"You look like a secret," he said.
She rolled her eyes, but her cheeks warmed.
Dinner was loud, crowded, and punctuated with too much wine. Maya talked about leaving the city for love. Luis confessed to writing bad poetry. Tessa declared she once dumped a guy because he wore socks with sandals.
But the warmth was real.
And Violet caught Adam watching her like she was something worth framing.
Later, when the candles had burned low and Maya and Luis left with a pie and two secondhand books, Violet and Adam lingered among the shelves.
"Do you regret staying?" he asked quietly.
"In Elden Bridge?"
"In your life."
She considered that.
"Sometimes," she admitted. "When my mother makes me feel small. When the town talks. When I remember I'm twenty-eight and still waiting for something to make sense."
"And other times?"
She looked at him.
"Other times, I meet someone who reminds me not everything has to."
He took a step closer. The room shrank.
"I don't want to be a chapter you skip over," he said.
"You're not."
The silence between them hummed.
Then his hand brushed hers.
Outside, snow fell again.
Inside, something finally moved.