The bell over the bookstore door jingled, its sound crisp and melodic against the hum of the radiator and the faint strains of Christmas music playing from the vintage radio on the counter. Grace Porter glanced up from the book she was shelving, her fingers tightening briefly around the spine of Little Women. For a moment, she allowed herself to hope it might be someone new—someone looking for a good story to curl up with during the holiday season.

Instead, it was Mrs. Thornton, a regular customer bundled in a burgundy coat and a scarf thick enough to make her neck nearly disappear. Grace swallowed her disappointment and smiled. "Good morning, Mrs. Thornton. What can I help you find today?"

Mrs. Thornton's cheeks were flushed from the cold, her silver curls peeking out from beneath her knit hat. "Morning, dear! I'm just here to pick up that book on knitting you ordered for me. And if you have any recommendations for my grandson... something he might actually read for once, you know?"

"I've got just the thing," Grace said, wheeling herself toward the counter. Her hands moved automatically, retrieving the knitting book from the stack of special orders and pulling a sleek hardcover from the shelf behind her. "This one's new. It's about a kid who discovers he has powers. Lots of adventure, not too much brooding. Should be a good fit."

Mrs. Thornton beamed, and the warmth in her expression was enough to ease the chill that had crept into Grace's bones during the slow morning. "Perfect. You've got a knack for this, Grace. Don't know what this town would do without your shop."

Grace gave a polite laugh, but her chest tightened. She loved her store, loved being surrounded by stories and the comfort they brought to people. But lately, she couldn't help feeling like she was a character in a book whose pages were stuck together—static, unchanging, while the world turned outside her windows. Her life was a loop: days at the store, evenings at home, and the occasional visit with her parents. It wasn't a bad life, but it was a lonely one.

The bell jingled again as Mrs. Thornton left, and Grace settled back behind the counter. Snow was beginning to fall outside, the flakes sticking to the windows and softening the sharp edges of the street. She adjusted the plaid throw draped over her lap and picked up her tea, savoring the warmth that seeped through the mug.

The radio crooned, Maybe this year, I'll get what I want...

Grace snorted softly. Yeah, right.

The door swung open once more, letting in a gust of cold air and the faint scent of pine. Grace looked up, expecting another familiar face. Instead, her breath caught.

The woman standing in the doorway was framed by the soft glow of the streetlights outside, her red coat vivid against the white snow. Dark curls tumbled from beneath a slouchy knit hat, and her cheeks were flushed, whether from the cold or something else, Grace couldn't tell. She looked like she belonged on a Christmas card, or maybe in one of those romance novels Grace pretended not to enjoy as much as she did.

"Grace Porter?" the woman said, her voice carrying a note of disbelief and something like delight.

Grace blinked, her heart doing an odd little skip. "That's me. Can I help you?"

The woman stepped closer, pulling off her hat and shaking snow from her curls. Her smile widened. "It's Charlotte. Charlotte Blake. We went to school together?"

The name hit Grace like a chord struck on a piano she hadn't played in years. Memories rushed back: the chatter of the lunchroom, the squeak of gym shoes on polished floors, Charlotte's laughter floating above the din. They hadn't been close—not exactly. Charlotte had always been part of a different crowd, orbiting just out of reach. But Grace remembered her vividly, remembered the way she lit up a room and made the mundane seem extraordinary.

"Charlotte," Grace said, her voice soft with recognition. "Wow. It's been... a long time."

"It has," Charlotte said, her gaze sweeping the store. "This place is amazing. Is it yours?"

Grace nodded. "Yeah. Opened it a few years ago. Books have always been my thing, so... here I am."

Charlotte's eyes sparkled. "Here you are. It suits you."

The warmth in her voice sent a shiver through Grace that had nothing to do with the draft from the door. She tried to focus, to keep her tone light. "So, what brings you back to town? Last I heard, you were living it up in New York."

Charlotte's smile faltered, just for a moment. "I was. But, you know, life happens. Needed a change of scenery. Figured I'd come back and spend the holidays with my family."

Grace wanted to ask more, to understand the shadow that crossed Charlotte's face, but she hesitated. Instead, she gestured toward the shelves. "Well, welcome back. Let me know if there's anything you're looking for. We've got everything from classics to cookbooks."

Charlotte's grin returned, soft and genuine. "Actually, I was hoping to find some inspiration. I've been in a bit of a creative rut lately, and nothing sparks ideas quite like a good book."

"What kind of inspiration?" Grace asked, curious despite herself.

"Art," Charlotte said, her eyes lighting up. "I'm a painter. Or at least, I try to be."

Grace's lips twitched upward. "Well, then. Let's find something to get those creative gears turning."

She wheeled out from behind the counter, leading Charlotte through the store. As they moved between the shelves, the conversation flowed easily. Charlotte's laughter came as readily as Grace remembered, and her enthusiasm for the stories Grace recommended was infectious. For the first time in a long while, Grace felt something stir in her chest—a spark of possibility she hadn't realized she'd been missing.

When Charlotte finally left, her arms full of books and a promise to visit again soon, Grace sat behind the counter, staring at the snow falling outside. Her tea had gone cold, but she didn't care. The store felt warmer, brighter, as if Charlotte had left a piece of her light behind.

The radio played softly in the background, the lyrics weaving through Grace's thoughts:

Oh, Christmas lights, keep shining on.

For the first time in years, Grace thought they just might.