Nervously, I reach out my hand. “I’m Harper Sanders.”

“How long have you lived here, Harper?”

“All my life.”

Carl nods and folds his arms over his chest, looking out toward the bay. “Would you mind if we ask you a few more questions? After your shift, of course?”

“Yes,” I say skeptically. “Am I in trouble? I didn’t mean to pry.”

“You’re fine. We just have some follow-up questions, and it would be nice to talk in more depth. When do you get off your shift?”

I check my watch. “Half an hour.”

“Perfect. We’ll wait here until you’re done and meet you in the lobby. We can grab a seat next to the fire and have a conversation. Does that sound all right with you?”

I swallow hard and nod. “Yes, sir. Sounds great.”

And cue the sweating.

I attempt to make myself presentable in the employee break room, but I really have nothing to work with besides a cream quarter-zip sweater and ponytail holder. I smooth my hair back and sigh. Well, this is the best I could do.

After the weird conversation I had with Sally, Carl, and Elizabeth, I pulled Eve in the back and told her everything, asking her what she thought they could possibly want. She guessed they were tourists looking for those strange or unfindable spots. I was hoping for a better story than that. They’re out-of-towners for sure, but part of me hoped they needed something more important. Maybe they’re new developers? I’m not about having chain stores, but a nicer boutique in town would be cool. There’s only so much kitschy Port Snow gear one person can own.

With my little backpack slung over my shoulder, I make my way toward the lobby, where my new “friends” are waiting for me. They greet me with smiles, and we settle into a cozy little circle of chairs by the fire.

Carl is the first to speak. “We were really impressed with your knowledge of the town, Harper. It seems like you know every nook and cranny of Port Snow.”

I smile and casually shrug. “Let’s just say there’s only so much you can do when you grow up in a small town, and venturing around is one of them.” I take a deep breath and push down the memories of all the times Rogan and I explored together. “I used to spend my summers walking all around Port Snow, taking in every little curve and bend in the roads, every tree and flower during the spring. It was fun for me.” For us.

“Where in town do you live?”

“Here.” I point. “On the peninsula. My dad takes care of the lighthouse. I recently moved back to town and have loved getting reacquainted.” Despite the nuisance of having to live in the same town as my ex-boyfriend.

“Well, it’s absolutely stunning here and so quaint. What are your favorite establishments in Port Snow?”

I wasn’t expecting them to ask me so many questions, but hey, it’s nice that they like my town so much. I’ve never met such interested visitors.

“The library is a gorgeous place that most people overlook. It’s built entirely out of stone and is just stunning when you walk inside; with its vaulted ceilings, it looks like a small cathedral. Then there’s the Harbor Walk, which is the bridge walk connecting Fairy Island and Port Snow.”

“Fairy Island? Is that really its name?” Elizabeth asks, looking interested.

“Yup. It’s tiny and gorgeous, but there really isn’t much over there besides some hiking trails and another lighthouse. But the Harbor Walk itself . . .” I sigh, thinking about all the times Rogan and I walked up and down the three-quarter-mile stretch, holding hands. “It’s magical in the morning, when the mist is rising off the water, the sun rising over the horizon. And then there’s the Harbor Walk House.”

“What’s that?” Sally asks, leaning forward with a to-go cup of coffee in her hand.

I smile inwardly, loving this story. “Well, the Harbor Walk was built back in 1902 by a private resident at the time. He was an old fisherman who struck it rich—as the story goes—and every time he came home from a long catch out at sea, he would worry about hitting the island and all the sea traffic that passed between the two pieces of land, so he brought his concern to the town. Can you guess what they did?”

“Built the bridge walk?” Carl asks.

I shake my head. “They laughed at him and turned down his ridiculous notion.”

“Oh.” Elizabeth laughs. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Neither was the fisherman. After he was so rudely dismissed, he made it his mission to build the bridge on his own. After fifteen years of saving, he built the bridge, along with a house dead smack in the middle.”

“The Harbor Walk House,” Carl says with a smile.

“Mm-hmm, and do you know what that fisherman did?” They all shake their heads, on the edge of their seats. “He cut the island off from the town, claiming that the rich foliage and magical grounds were only meant for those who were worthy of Fairy Island . . . or those who were willing to pay.”

“Nooo,” Sally drags out with a laugh.

“Yup.” I nod. “He started collecting a toll on the footbridge from anyone who wanted to experience the island. Word quickly spread that the island brought not only the fisherman good fortune but others as well. Before he knew it, the fisherman was knee deep in toll money and laughing in the town’s face.”

“If only they listened to him.” Carl shakes his head, grinning. “And who owns the house now?”

“Well, after he felt like the town had repaid its debt, the fisherman donated the bridge to Port Snow—or as it was called at the time, Duck Foot—and passed the house down to his next of kin, making it known that there would be no more toll to collect. I’m not sure who owns the house now, but I do know they rent it out for a pretty penny, and the Harbor Walk is open to all who want to take the jaunt to Fairy Island.”

I remember taking that walk many times with Rogan, talking about the Harbor Walk House and how cool it would be to live in the middle of the water, the seagulls as your neighbors and the boats as your view. It was one of many houses all over town that I’ve loved and fantasized about.

Elizabeth sits back. “That’s incredible. What a story.” She folds her arms over her chest. “You know, Harper, you’re a wonderful storyteller.”

“Thank you. I’ve spent the last seven years working as a tour guide, so I have some doozies I could tell you.”

“A tour guide? Really?” Carl asks, scratching the side of his cheek and looking between Sally and Elizabeth.

I can see something brewing in his eyes, and before he even thinks about getting an idea, I say, “I’m not a tour guide anymore . . . kind of in the midst of figuring out what to do.”

“Hmm . . .” Elizabeth’s smile grows wide. “You’re in transition?”

“Yeah,” I drag out, wondering where all this is headed.

As one, they nod at each other, and Carl leans forward, beckoning me to do the same. “Harper, how would you like to be a location scout for Lovemark?”

“Lovemark?” I shout-whisper. “As in the most popular romance channel on TV, the same channel that brought us I Fell for Hunky Saint Nick and Tut-Tut, It Looks like Snow?”

Sally smiles warmly. “The one and only.”

I look between all three of them. “Wait, you’re not tourists, are you? You want to make a movie in Port Snow? Wait . . . oh my God! Are you going to make a Christmas movie in Port Snow?” I’m bouncing on my chair, all professionalism thrown right out the window. “That would be . . . God, what a dream.” I grip my forehead. “Oh Christ, the town will have a collective aneurism. I don’t think they’re ready for this kind of excitement. Someone will have to be on call for the elders down at Senior Row, and then Mrs. Davenport, she’s already so old and frail. Gah, and Franklin—he’s a gossip, so any inside scoop will have to be kept away from him because he will ruin everything. And don’t forget Brig; I think it’s been his lifelong dream to be an extra in a movie.” I look up, eyes wide. “Is this going to be a . . .” I bite my bottom lip and take a deep breath. “Is this going to be a ‘Kickoff to Christmas’ movie?”

Sally pats my hand. “I think we found our town.”

“Your town? What does that mean?”

Carl takes the lead. “We were on the fence between Port Snow and another town, but once we made it here and took in the quaint Main Street, the pastel buildings, beautiful lights . . . we knew we had to film here. We just need someone who can help us scout the actual locations for filming and act as town liaison. From your little spiel of excitement, it seems like you know everyone in town. Am I correct?”

“Oh yeah. When you’re a lifer in Port Snow, you know everything about everyone. Believe me, we’re all family here.”

“Which is great to hear, and I hate to ask this, but are you on good terms with everyone? We really need a town liaison who can smooth our path here.”