A Snow‑Kissed Arrival
Maya pulled her coat tighter as the Alpine Inn emerged from the white‑out like a lantern in a storm. The wind howled through the pines, flinging fresh snow across the roof and rattling the iron latch. She’d driven three hours from the city, checklist clenched in one gloved hand, only to find the door half‑frozen. With a grunt she shoved it open, the thin sheet of frost cracking like glass beneath her weight. Inside, a low fire crackled, casting amber shadows over mismatched chairs and a battered bar. The scent of pine resin mixed with a hint of cinnamon, and the old floorboards groaned beneath her boots.
“Looks like you’ve got a storm and a deadline,” a warm voice said.
Luca stepped from behind the bar, dark hair dusted with snow, a grin tugging at his lips. He was taller than she expected, shoulders broad enough to fill the doorway, eyes deep brown and sparkling with fatigue. “Welcome to Mistletoe & Midnight,” he said, extending a calloused hand. “I’m Luca, the owner… and apparently the only one who knows how to keep the lights on around here.”
Maya took his hand, feeling the roughness of his skin through her glove. “Maya,” she replied, voice steady despite the cold. “I’m here for the Hartley‑Miller wedding. It’s supposed to be a winter wonderland, right? I’ve got a list of vendors, a timeline, and a very nervous bride counting on this being perfect.”
Luca’s grin widened, though a flicker of concern crossed his features. “Right, the Hartley‑Miller thing. We’ve got the ballroom set up, but the storm—” He gestured toward the window where snow swirled in a frantic dance, “—has a mind of its own. Roads are closing, and the power’s been a little temperamental.” He chuckled, the sound more nervous than amused. “We might have to improvise.”
Maya’s mind raced. She could picture the bride’s tear‑filled eyes, then the horror of a power outage, a blizzard, a missing cake. She forced a smile, the kind she used on clients when the world seemed to tilt. “Improvise is my middle name,” she said, though she’d never actually used that line before. “Let’s see what we can do.”
Luca led her through the dim hallway, firelight flickering against walls adorned with antlers, old photographs, and a faded tapestry depicting a winter hunt. The inn seemed to breathe, wood creaking in rhythm with the wind outside. As they passed a doorway, a soft melody drifted out—a piano playing a melancholic tune that echoed the loneliness of the night.
“That’s Marta,” Luca said, nodding toward the source. “She’s our resident pianist. She plays when the night gets too quiet. Makes the place feel… less empty.” He opened a door to a small, cozy lounge where a woman with silver hair sat at a grand piano, her fingers dancing over the keys with a grace that made the snow outside feel like a distant memory.
Marta glanced up, offering a warm smile that reached her eyes. “Welcome, dear,” she said, voice like honey. “You must be Maya. Luca told me about your event. I hope the storm doesn’t ruin your plans.”
Maya returned the smile, taking in the ambiance. Tiny lights cast a soft glow, making the snowflakes look like diamonds. A rustic table was set with mismatched china and a pine‑cone centerpiece.
“Let’s get you settled,” Luca said, leading her to a small office behind the bar. The room held ledgers, maps, and a weathered desk. A window showed the storm raging outside.
Maya set her bag down, pulled out her laptop, and opened a spreadsheet. “First things first,” she said. “We need to confirm the caterer, the florist, and make sure the generator is working. If the power goes out, we need a backup plan.”
A crash revealed a broken beam in the ballroom; Maya quickly moved the ceremony to the lounge, the staff set up tables and fire, and by midnight the storm faded, leaving hope.
