December 2026 arrived on a whisper of snow, the first flakes falling softly on the morning of the 1st, blanketing the neighborhood in the same hushed white that had changed everything exactly one year earlier. The air carried that familiar crisp bite—sharp pine from wreaths on doors, faint woodsmoke curling from chimneys, and the promise of warm spices drifting from kitchens everywhere.
Emily stood at her expanded counter in the newly renovated space, Amelia Rose strapped to her chest in a soft carrier, tiny hands waving at the strings of twinkle lights draped across the exposed beams. At four months old, their daughter was alert and smiling, auburn curls peeking from under a tiny red knit cap, gray-green eyes wide at the organized chaos of measuring cups, rolling pins, and jars of molass
