They paused outside Marian’s Bakery—the faded lettering barely visible behind frost-coated windows. Closed Until Further Notice hung crookedly in the glass.

  Sorrow tugged at Ellie. “She must still be grieving her husband.”

  Kayleigh nodded softly. “She hasn’t baked publicly since he passed. Losing him… it took the joy out of her.”

  “I understand that,” Ellie whispered. Her husband didn’t die, but he killed their marriage. “Losing the life you thought you’d have—it’s its own kind of grief.”

  Kayleigh squeezed her arm. “You’re building something new. That’s what matters.”

  They hugged, breath steaming in the cold until Kayleigh left them at the door of her craft store. She invited them in, but Ellie thought she better check on Maybelle.

  Ellie and Toffee walked home through the quiet lane, snow crunching beneath their steps. A faint rustle from the trees made Toffee freeze, ears perked.

  “Probably just a deer,” Ellie told her.

  But Toffee growled low, body tense.

  Ellie hurried them inside, locking the door behind her. The warmth of the cabin enveloped her, but as she hung up her coat, a lingering unease curled at the base of her spine.

  Something in Misty Pines didn’t feel quite right.

  And Toffee, still sitting stiffly by the window, seemed to agree.

  Chapter 3

  Whispers in the Snow

  Ellie awoke to a soft pale light spilling across the quilt, the kind that only winter mornings could conjure—quiet, delicate, and a little too bright for someone who hadn’t quite slept through the night. Toffee was sprawled across her feet, tiny snores puffing against the blanket. A warm, comforting weight.

  To her left, two enormous blue eyes stared up at her in expectant silence.

  “Maybelle,” Ellie murmured, “it’s six in the morning. You can’t possibly be starving already.”

  The cat arched her neck and flicked her tail toward the door.

  Ellie chuckled, even as she pushed herself upright. “All right, your highness. I’m coming.”

  She managed to ease her legs free from beneath Toffee, but as she dressed the poodle blinked herself awake, then stretched with a squeaky yawn that nearly melted Ellie into a puddle.

  “You’re too cute,” Ellie told her, “and you don’t have to come now. I’m not making breakfast for me yet.”

  With a shake of her little body, Toffee dismissed the idea, trotting beside her as if breakfast for Ellie was irrelevant to the poodles need to oversee all kitchen operations. Although a little jealousy might have been a consideration.

  The cabin was cold in that early-morning way, the kind that made every sound feel sharper. Ellie filled the bowls—Maybelle’s with precise scoops, Toffee’s with a generous one. The cat sniffed hers as though evaluating Ellie’s performance. Toffee inhaled hers in three excited breaths, then eyed Maybelle’s bowl with opportunistic longing.

  “Don’t you dare,” Ellie warned.

  The poodle huffed, but kept her distance.

  Once everyone had eaten, Ellie let Toffee out back. The poodle hesitated only a second before pattering into the snow bravely—then promptly yelped and darted back inside, offended by the cold.

  “Though it looks exciting out there, you’re a summer soul,” Ellie murmured, rubbing her fur.

  She filled the kettle next, letting the warmth of routine settle into her bones. While she waited, her mobile rang and she reached for it immediately. As expected, her daughter’s name flashed on the screen.

  “Morning, sweetheart,” Ellie answered warmly.

  “Mom.” Jenna’s voice was bright and brisk—her usual tone at the academy. “Just making sure you got to Misty Pines in one piece.”

  “I did. Safe and sound. Toffee is already in love with the snow… in theory. In practice, she’s a fair-weather queen.”

  Jenna made a soft amused sound. “I can imagine.”

  Ellie moved toward the frost-rimmed window. In the distance, the lake shimmered like compacted glass. “It’s beautiful here, honey. Peaceful.”

  “That’s good. Maybe you can actually relax for once.”

  “I intend to,” Ellie said. “Though, with all the cookie baking and volunteering I’ve somehow been pulled into, it might need to wait a bit.”

  “What do you mean ‘somehow’?” Jenna groaned. “Mom, please don’t tell me you’ve been roped into local drama again.”

  “I wouldn’t call it drama,” Ellie hedged.

  “What would you call it?”

  “Community involvement.”

  “Mom.”

  Ellie bit back a smile. “I merely helped out with the planning meeting for the Cookie Trail yesterday.”

  “Did you at least avoid conflict?” Jenna scoffed.

  “I tried. But I might’ve had a minor disagreement with Marian Devereux.”

  “Isn’t she the bakery lady you mentioned last time you were there?”

  “Yes. She accused me of copying her recipe.”

  “You’re kidding me?”

  “I didn’t,” Ellie said quickly. “And it wasn’t even the same type of cookie!”

  Jenna sighed the sigh of someone who had long accepted—and resigned herself to—the chaos that had followed her mother over the last year. “Please promise me you won’t insert yourself into anything messy. Just bake your cookies, keep your head down, and enjoy the quiet. You’ve earned that much.”

  Ellie’s chest softened. “I’ll try. Really.”

  “Good,” Jenna said. “Because last time you ‘tried,’ you still ended up giving testimony at a craft fair dispute.”

  “That was not my fault,” Ellie objected. “The jam sabotage was real.”

  “Goodbye, Mom.”

  Ellie laughed. “Love you.”

  “Love you too.”

  She hung up, tucking the phone into her jeans pocket. Outside, sunlight glinted off crystalline branches, making everything look enchanted… in a grounded, real-world kind of way. She let herself breathe deeply and felt herself relax. Jenna was right. She should take life easy while she was in this gorgeous town with her best friend close by and only Toffee and herself to take care of.

  Today she would plan her Cookie Trail cabin theme, bake and deliver treats to Kayleigh’s shop, then take a walk through town with Toffee. “Simple. Quiet. Peaceful,” she murmured.

  Toffee thumped her tail once.

  Ellie glanced at her. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s possible.”

  The poodle tilted her head in what seemed like gentle disbelief.

  Maybelle darted back inside through the pet door—snow clinging to her long fur, a dusting of frost across her whiskers.

  “How are you so elegant even when freezing?” Ellie asked, amazed.

  Maybelle shook once, sending snowflakes flying, then marched past both of them with her chin high.

  Toffee looked away, offended dignity bristling.

  Ellie laughed softly. “You two are going to be trouble.”

  She wiped down the counters, finished her morning baking, and wrapped a box of cinnamon rolls and shortbread for Kayleigh’s craft shop. When Toffee saw the tin and Ellie’s coat, she nearly vibrated through the floorboards.

  “Let’s go, then,” Ellie said, clipping on her leash. “Just you and me and Maybelle if she cares to come.”

  Toffee barked at the mention of the cat, but Maybelle was nowhere around so they set off down the lane under a sky turning bright and promising. The cold nipped Ellie’s cheeks, but in a bracing, invigorating way. The closer they walked toward town, the more the air filled with scents—fresh pastries from the café, smoke from chimneys, pine warmed by sunlight.

  “Slow down,” Ellie chuckled as Toffee trotted ahead, encountering each snowdrift with exaggerated high steps. She looked like a tiny reindeer practicing for a parade.

  They passed the Devereux property, its neat brick bungalow somber beneath heavy icicles. Curtains drawn. Snow untouched. Ellie noticed a single upstairs window was cracked open an inch. Frost rimmed the edges, delicate and glittering.

  “That’s odd,” she murmured. “Who leaves a window open in this weather?”

  Toffee sniffed the air, tail lowering. A faint, uncertain whine sounded.

  “It’s none of our business,” Ellie said, more to convince herself. “Come on. We’ll mention it to Kayleigh later and she can phone Mrs. Devereux to check if she’s aware of it.”

  But Toffee kept glancing back as they moved on.

  The Main Street was busier by the time they reached The Crafty Cardinal. The café bell chimed across the street as people went in and out, moving between shops with steaming cups, and children tugged their parents toward the freshly-decorated gazebo.

  Kayleigh herself was up to her elbows in ribbon and glitter—again.

  “Morning, you glorious domestic goddess!” she said, sweeping around the counter to kiss Ellie’s cheek. “Did you bring me salvation?”

  “In the form of cinnamon rolls? Yes.”

  Kayleigh clasped her hands dramatically. “Praise be.”

  Toffee wagged at the sight of her favorite honorary aunt. Kayleigh scooped her up for a cuddle. “You,” she told Toffee, “are the only reason I tolerate your mother’s sarcasm.”

  Ellie placed the pastry box on the counter. “Speaking of tolerating—Marian and I didn’t exactly hit it off last night.”

  Kayleigh’s eyes widened. “Details. Immediately.”

  Ellie relayed the mild confrontation, Marian’s cold stare, the faint accusation.

  Kayleigh listened with scandalized fascination. “Classic Marian. You know, she was muttering to herself after the meeting. Something about ‘cut corners’ and ‘not letting people ruin what she built.’”

  Ellie frowned. “I wonder what that means.”

  “Probably nothing.” Kayleigh shrugged. “But she was definitely stressed. More than usual.”

  Before Ellie could reply, the shop door burst open. Gary—the town handyman—stood on the threshold, breath steaming, eyes wide with alarm.

  “Have either of you seen Marian this morning?” he asked.

  Ellie’s pulse pinched. “No. Why?”

  Gary swallowed. “I went to fix a leaking pipe she called about. Her back door’s wide open. And⁠—”

  He shook his head, voice trembling.

  “I think something’s wrong.”

  The room stilled.

  Kayleigh gasped. “Wrong how?”

  Gary looked at Ellie. “I didn’t go inside. I panicked. We need to call someone.”

  Ellie reached for her coat instantly. “Kayleigh, call the ambulance. Gary, show me.”

  “Ellie—wait—” Kayleigh reached for her arm, but Ellie was already through the door, Toffee scrambling after her.

  Snow crunched beneath their boots as they hurried down the street. The closer they got, the heavier Ellie’s stomach felt.

  Marian’s back door hung open, nudged lightly by the wind. The kitchen light was on, casting a thin, flickering glow.

  Ellie’s breath caught.

  “Stay close,” she whispered to Toffee, who tucked herself against Ellie’s leg, trembling.

  Inside, the air smelled wrong. Sweet… but sour underneath. Ellie stepped carefully into the kitchen.

  And then she saw her.

  Marian Devereux lay on the tiled floor near the oven, one arm stretched toward the counter. Her apron had twisted, her holly brooch glinting faintly under the dim light. A mixing bowl lay on its side, flour scattered like spilled snow.

  Ellie clapped a hand to her mouth.

  “Gary,” she whispered, voice tight. “Call them again.”

  He was already dialing.

  Toffee whimpered softly.

  Ellie reached for her, eyes burning.

  Something deep in her gut told her this wasn’t right. Not at all.

  Snow continued falling outside, peaceful and unbothered. But inside Marian’s kitchen, everything had changed.

  And Ellie knew, in the quiet place she rarely admitted existed—that nothing about this Christmas in Misty Pines was going to be simple.

  Not anymore.

  Chapter 4

  Whispers and Warnings

  The world inside Marian Devereux’s kitchen seemed frozen, as if even the air didn’t dare move. Ellie knelt carefully beside the older woman, her breath catching in her throat.

  Marian’s skin was pale, her expression carved into something between surprise and determination. Her fingers still stretched toward the counter, as though in her final moment she’d been reaching for help—or for something she wanted to hide.

  Gary’s voice trembled behind her. “Ambulance is coming. Should we… should we do anything?”

  Ellie shook her head, her pulse thudding painfully. “No. We shouldn’t touch her.”

  As she stood, her gaze flicked to the cooling rack on the counter. A row of cookies sat there—darker than usual, slightly burned at the edges. One had a small bite taken out. Just a nibble.

  The scent in the room was wrong. Sweet, yes—but underneath the usual citrus and spice lingered something sharp, almost metallic. It stung the back of her throat.

  Toffee padded closer, nose quivering, her little body tight with unease. She pawed at the spilled flour near the fallen mixing bowl, making a soft worried sound that made Ellie’s heart twist.

  “I know, sweetheart,” Ellie murmured, scooping her up. “I feel it too.”

  They stepped outside when the paramedics arrived, giving space, breathing in the cold air that felt suddenly too thin. Snowflakes drifted lazily, the peaceful morning cruelly at odds with what was happening inside the small brick bungalow.

  Kayleigh hurried down the street seconds later, hair escaping her beanie, eyes bright with fear. “Ellie! Gary called me. Is she—oh God.”

  Ellie shook her head, unable to form the words.

  Kayleigh’s hands flew to her mouth. “Oh no.”

  The paramedics moved with brisk efficiency, but there was no rush. No frantic motions. No hope of revival.

  And when they wheeled Marian’s still form toward the waiting ambulance, Ellie saw the holly brooch again—glinting beneath the blanket like a final spark of the woman she’d been.

  People began gathering, drawn by flashing lights and murmured horror. Misty Pines was small; news traveled faster than weather here. Whispered voices drifted across the snow.

  “What happened?”

  “Was she sick?”

  “I saw her yesterday—she looked fine.”

  “She was baking…”

  “She never left her back door open…”

  Toffee pressed close to Ellie’s ankle, trembling. Ellie rested a hand on her warm fur, trying to steady both of them.

  “Ms. Prescott?”

  A calm, deep voice cut through the murmurs.

  She turned to find a uniformed officer approaching—a tall man with sharp features, steady eyes, and freshly fallen snow dusting the shoulders of his jacket.

  Sergeant Nichols.

  “We spoke briefly at the town meeting,” he reminded her. “I understand you found Mrs. Devereux?”

  Ellie swallowed hard. “Gary found her. I was with him. I—I thought maybe she’d fallen.”

  “Did you touch anything in the kitchen?”

  “No,” Ellie said. “Except Toffee sniffed the flour spill. That’s all. I didn’t move anything.”

  Nichols took notes, his expression unreadable. “You live nearby?”

  “I’m house-sitting the Mathers’ place down the lane.”

  He nodded. “Did you notice anything unusual this morning when you passed the area?”

  Ellie hesitated. “Her upstairs window was cracked open. Just an inch. In this weather, that seems… strange.”

  Nichols paused in his writing. “Anything else?”

  “The back door was open when Gary arrived,” Ellie added. “And the cookies she baked—they looked darker. Maybe overdone. And one had a bite taken out.”

  Kayleigh shot her a look. “Ellie…”

  Nichols studied her with quiet interest. “You seem observant.”

  “I bake,” Ellie said automatically. “You notice things.”

  “Mm.” He closed his notebook. “We’ll need a formal statement later. For now, please don’t discuss details with the rest of the town.”

  Ellie nodded, though she could already feel the weight of curious eyes on her. “Of course.”

  As he stepped away, Kayleigh muttered, “Good luck with that. Misty Pines residents treat gossip like oxygen.”

  “I’m not the one telling people,” Ellie whispered, glancing around. “Everyone’s already here.”

  A soft buzz from her coat pocket pulled her attention. Jenna’s name flashed on the screen.

  Ellie’s stomach dipped. “Oh boy.”

  She stepped away from the crowd to answer. “Hi honey.”

  “Mom.” Jenna’s voice was clipped. “I just got a message from a friend in emergency dispatch. You were at a death scene?”

  Ellie winced. “News travels fast.”

  “Mom!”

  “It’s not what you think,” Ellie said quickly. “Gary found Marian Devereux. I only went with him because he was panicked.”

  “And then what? You just… looked around?”

  “Well, yes, but⁠—”

  “Mom.”

  “She was already gone,” Ellie said softly. “There was nothing to be done.”

  Silence. Then: “Are you okay?”

  Ellie closed her eyes, leaning against the cold siding of a nearby fence. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “It all feels… wrong.”

  “What do you mean wrong?”

  “The air in her kitchen. The cookies. The open door. The scent…” Ellie swallowed. “It didn’t feel like an accident.”

  “Mom,” Jenna warned sharply, “YOU are not to investigate anything.”

  Ellie tried for innocence. “I’m not investigating.”

  “You are absolutely investigating.”

  “No I’m not.”

  “Yes. You. Are.”

  “I’m simply observing.”

 

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