Two days later, we reached the finish line.

A caravan of buses pulled up our drive and made their way to our parking lot. Tourists poured out of the opened doors and headed over to the snowy patch of grass at the center of our drive. They joined our guests for the night, who were already waiting to see the display. One shuttle was missing, though. The most important one of the bunch. My guess was the judges were still deliberating back at the last site, which granted me a few more minutes to work the nerves out of Tim.

"There's a lot more people here than I thought." He pulled on the collar of his burgundy turtle neck. "When they do the residential competition, they just drop them off at the end of the street and people kind of slowly make their way down to the other end. They're more spread out that way, I guess."

"I know you'll do fine." I gave the mic a tap to make sure the borrowed sound equipment was working. "Just imagine you're at karaoke. I'll even get you a beer if you want."

"No," said Tim with firm confidence. "If I'm doing this, I'm doing it right. I can't do Gina justice inebriated."

"You'll do her justice, Tim." I turned to him and gave him a warm smile. "You're doing her justice just by being here."

He took a deep breath and nodded. "You know, I've been practicing every chance I get alone. I think I can make it through it. I... I can do it." He nodded again, but this time with a straighter back and a stiffer lip. "Thank you Lyn for giving me this opportunity to sing for her one last time."

"No, thank you Tim." I reached over and he accepted my hug with welcoming arms.

"Oh, looks like they're here." He released me so I could turn to face the drive.

There our final shuttle, adorned with a golden wreath on the front grille to designate it as the judge's official bus, parked at the back of our drive. The doors opened, and they stepped right out into the glow of our Christmas trees.

"Alright, I have to go talk to Saundra real quick and then I'll be back to introduce you."

"Okay," he said, his voice trembling, but his resolve firm.

I hopped down the steps and walked as briskly as I could without drawing too much attention. Apparently, though, I still gained Saundra's notice because she sidestepped out of the flow of judges and waited for me by the bus instead of heading straight for the first tree in our lineup.

"Good evening Ms. Creeke," she said with mock formality in her voice. "Please know you cannot bribe me. I am a woman of the law, you know."

"Is it done?" I brushed past her attempts to lighten the tension engulfing me.

She looked at me, a playful smile on her lips as she watched me squirm. Then her smile softened to that of a proud mother. "It's done Lyn, the contract has been nullified and I'm already working on the paperwork to secure the slope and farm for Mr. Myers."

"It's... it's done." My words staggered by my lungs' desperate attempts to breathe again. My hands rose to my face, rubbing my cheeks and drying the tears collecting at the rims of my eyes. "It's done."

"You are the uncontested owner of the Hound and Sparrow." She reached out and gave my shoulder a squeeze, which jumped as I hiccuped back a few shuttering breaths.

"Thank you," I sniffed. "Thank you for fixing this mistake."

"It's a learning process, Lyn," she said with motherly wisdom. "Georgina was no stranger to mistakes, but in the end, you both did right. You both found your way."

"How do you know about Aunt Gina's mistakes?" I asked, sobering up and regaining control of my voice.

"We all make them, don't we?" she said with a wink. "And sometimes secrets are too heavy to bear on your own."

"She... she told you?"

"Client confidentiality," she said, putting a finger to her lips. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a contest to judge and I don't want anyone thinking I'm biased."

"They won't think that. We're clearly the best," I said with a proud smile.

"We'll see. Good luck, Lyn."

"Thank you, Mrs. Waverly."

She headed over to the first tree and, as I made my way back to the porch, a very anxious Jordan intercepted me.

"Well?" He grabbed my arms and held me in place, his eyes dancing with hope.

"It's done," I said, my smile beaming. "You get to keep your home."

"Our home." He wrapped me in a tight hug, his flannel jacket enveloping me in a warm, soft embrace that made me forget just how freezing cold it was that night.

"Our home," I whispered into his chest.

"So, are you going to tell me what Tim is doing here now?" He pulled me away and raised a quick hand to brush away the tears glistening on the top of his cheeks.

"Nope, you'll have to wait like everyone else. Now, if you'll excuse me, I really need to get things started."

Without another word, I sprinted back to the porch and met a fidgeting Tim, who looked eager to get this over with.

"Good evening everyone," I said into the mic, the audio crackling in the cold, dry air. "Good evening."

It took a moment or two for the crowd to settle. Once quiet, I saw that the judges had stepped out from around the trees to stand front and center before Tim and I. I could hear Tim's painful gulp behind me, but I knew once he got into the song, the nerves would melt away. I knew he'd find Gina in there and her presence would ease whatever fears he had. I hoped we'd all find her there.

"Thank you, everyone, for coming out here tonight and for joining me for my first Christmas here at Hereford Hills. Some of you might not know this, but for decades my Great Aunt Georgina Creeke ran this inn. She took a house left in shambles and gave it a new life. During that time, she made many friends and did all she could to help those in need. In fact, she rarely thought of herself.

"She left us a couple months ago and I know the town feels a gaping hole where she used to be. However, I hope here tonight, before these trees honoring her memory, you can realize that she never left. I'd like to ask you to view the trees in silence as a good friend of my aunt's, Tim McGregor, sings a song for us. My aunt loved music, so it's only fitting that I present you these lights and decorations before a backdrop of song. Thank you."

I took a deep breath and turned to face Tim. He wasn't shaking anymore, instead he gave me a tight-lipped smile and a nod of his head. I returned the gesture and then stepped out of the way. He approached the mic as I started the music. Then I walked down the steps and joined up with Jordan, who wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me in close. We both looked up at Tim as he began to sing.

At first, people didn't notice the change. They smiled and swayed to the familiar song, but after the first verse, I saw the shift in their expressions. The change in the lyrics was a subtle one, but to me, it made all the difference.

"You'll be home for Christmas, you can count on me..."

In silence, the crowd stood before the six trees. One for Georgina's childhood with my grandfather, featuring the young Hound and Sparrow fishing off the pier and eating popsicles by the lake. The next tree, her years as a singer in LA, showcasing the successes no one ever got to celebrate. Then there was the tree illuminating her status as a jack-of-all-trades, hopping jobs and doing all she could to save up money to buy and run the inn.

"We'll have snow and mistletoe, and presents on the tree..."

The next set of trees started with her adventures in renovating, displaying photos of all the little touches that were uniquely Gina. Then there was the tree honoring her dedication to her Thanksgiving dinners, with ornaments plastered with her recipes and the names of all those who had fed at her table. Finally, there was the tree bursting with Christmas spirit, decorated with little homages to past Christmas displays.

"Christmas Eve will find you, where the love light gleams..."

"Do you think Gina would have liked this ode to her legacy?" I asked Jordan in a whisper as soft and light as the snow.

He bowed his head down, resting his forehead against mine as he answered. "You are her legacy, and I'm sure she's proud."

Tim approached the big finale of the song and I knew that even with my altered lyrics, the song was still a bittersweet one. There was no way of avoiding the pain of loss. If I opened my heart to others, one day they'd leave. That was simply the course of life. If I tried to avoid it and shut myself away, then I experienced a different sort of loss. The loss of meaning and purpose to my existence.

The good days would still hurt because every success the inn had, I'd know Gina wasn't there to experience it. With every step I made towards having a family of my own, I'd know that my grandmother would never see how her family grew. But there was that final line of hope in the song. It may speak of those that can't be here with us, but it also reminds us it doesn't even matter, because they're always here. No matter where we are, they're always here.

"You'll be home for Christmas, if only in our dreams."

I was home.