Snowed In With The Grinch

Chapter 6: The Celebrity Sculptor

The next morning, Holly found herself wandering through Snowfall Valley’s quaint streets, her boots crunching against freshly fallen snow. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for—distraction, maybe, or some miraculous way out of this town. Anything to avoid feeling so completely trapped.

She tugged her scarf tighter against the biting cold as she passed shops that seemed to have spilled Christmas cheer all over their exteriors. Garlands adorned every window, twinkling lights wrapped around lampposts, and wreaths hung on nearly every door. She had to admit, begrudgingly, that the town looked like it had been plucked from a holiday postcard. It was the kind of place her best friend, Emma, would have fallen in love with immediately. Holly? She just wanted to escape it.

Her gaze wandered to the town square, and that was when she saw him. Jack Winters.

He stood in the middle of the square, surrounded by massive blocks of snow. His navy blue coat and hat couldn’t hide the fact that his shoulders were broad and his movements precise as he worked. Holly froze, watching as he leaned down, his breath fogging in the air as he carefully chipped away at one of the blocks with what looked like an oversized chisel.

For the first time since she’d met him, Jack wasn’t grinning or joking. He wasn’t teasing her or calling her "Grinch." He was completely focused, his expression serious, his movements deliberate. There was something oddly mesmerizing about the way he worked.

“You should see what he can do with those tools,” a voice said, startling Holly out of her thoughts.

She turned to see a group of women seated at a nearby café table, sipping steaming cups of cocoa and whispering excitedly as they watched Jack.

“Is he some kind of sculptor or something?” Holly asked before she could stop herself.

One of the women, a brunette with a scarf wrapped tightly around her neck, turned to her with wide eyes. “You don’t know who Jack Winters is?”

Holly blinked. “Should I?”

Another woman laughed softly. “Honey, he’s the pride of Snowfall Valley. His snow sculptures are famous. He’s won the Snow & Ice Festival competition five years in a row.”

“Six,” the brunette corrected.

“Right, six,” the woman said, nodding. “People come from all over just to see his work. And he’s always the highlight of the festival.”

Holly glanced back at Jack, who was now smoothing the surface of the snow with a small tool, his movements quick and precise. "It's just snow," she muttered under her breath, though the words sounded unconvincing even to herself.

“It’s not just snow,” the brunette said, her tone almost reverent. “It’s art. Wait until you see the finished piece. He turns snow into something magical.”

Magical. Of course. Everything in this town was supposedly magical. Holly let out a soft sigh, debating whether she should just walk away. But her curiosity got the better of her, and before she could stop herself, she was already making her way toward him.

---

“Don’t touch that,” Jack said without looking up as Holly approached. His voice was calm, but there was a firm edge to it that made her stop in her tracks.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” she said, crossing her arms.

Jack straightened, finally glancing over his shoulder. His lips curved into a familiar grin when he saw her. “Morning, Grinch. What brings you to my little corner of the square?”

“I was just passing by,” Holly said defensively. “I didn’t realize you were such a big deal around here.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Big deal, huh? Did someone finally tell you about my many talents?”

“If by ‘talents’ you mean playing with snow, then sure,” Holly said, smirking.

Jack let out a laugh, the sound warm and easy. “Ah, I see. You’re one of those people.”

“Those people?” she repeated, narrowing her eyes.

“The kind of person who doesn’t think snow sculptures are real art,” Jack said, turning back to his work. “Let me guess—you’re a ‘paintings and museums’ kind of girl?”

Holly frowned, feeling oddly defensive. “I never said it wasn’t art. I just... don’t get it. It’s snow. It melts.”

Jack paused, his chisel hovering just above the snow. For a moment, his expression softened, the grin fading into something more thoughtful. “That’s what makes it special,” he said quietly. “It doesn’t last. You only get to see it for a little while, and then it’s gone. Kind of like catching a snowflake on your tongue. You can’t keep it forever, but it’s still worth it.”

Holly blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. For a moment, she wasn’t sure how to respond. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her breath visible in the cold air. “Why do you do it?” she asked finally. “The sculptures, I mean. Why does it matter so much to you?”

Jack hesitated, his hand tightening slightly around the chisel. Then, just as quickly, he shook his head and smiled again, the teasing glint returning to his eyes. “Because it’s fun. And people like it.”

Holly had a feeling there was more to it than that, but she didn’t press him. Instead, she watched as he turned back to his work, carefully carving out details in the block of snow. Up close, she could see faint shapes beginning to emerge—a sweeping curve here, a sharp angle there. It was impressive, she had to admit, even if she didn’t fully understand it.

“Looks like someone’s warming up to me,” Jack said suddenly, his grin widening.

Holly rolled her eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m just bored.”

“Sure you are,” he said, his tone light. “But you’re welcome to hang around. Who knows? Maybe I’ll inspire you.”

“Inspire me to what?” Holly asked, smirking.

“To find some Christmas spirit,” Jack said with a wink.

Holly snorted, stepping back as Jack returned to his work. She didn’t want to admit it, but there was something oddly comforting about watching him. Maybe it was the way he moved with such purpose, as if the rest of the world didn’t exist when he was working. Or maybe it was the way his grin never seemed to falter, even when she was being difficult.

As she walked away, Holly couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Jack Winters than met the eye. And for the first time since she’d arrived in Snowfall Valley, she found herself... curious.

---

That afternoon, Holly returned to the lodge, still thinking about Jack and his sculptures. She’d barely made it through the door when Marjorie greeted her with a knowing smile.

“Did you stop by the square?” Marjorie asked, setting down a plate of cookies on the front desk.

Holly hesitated, then nodded. “I saw Jack working.”

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Marjorie said, her eyes twinkling. “He’s got a gift.”

Holly shrugged, trying to appear indifferent. “It’s just snow.”

Marjorie chuckled softly. “It’s never just snow, dear. Not to Jack.”

Holly frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Marjorie’s smile faded slightly, and for a moment, her expression turned thoughtful. “Jack’s sculptures aren’t just about the festival. They’re about... remembering. Honoring the past, in a way.”

“Honoring what?” Holly asked, her curiosity piqued.

Marjorie hesitated, then shook her head. “That’s Jack’s story to tell. But I think you’ll figure it out soon enough.”

Before Holly could press her for more details, Marjorie picked up the plate of cookies and walked away, leaving Holly standing in the lobby with more questions than answers.

As Holly starts to unravel the layers of Jack’s seemingly cheerful personality, she begins to suspect there’s more to his connection to Snowfall Valley—and the Snow & Ice Festival—than he lets on.