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Santa slid his hands up his face to hide his eyes.

“Nick,” Holly commanded. “It’s Christmas.”

Santa slapped his hands down on the armrest. He sat upright. “Fine. For Christmas.”

“Who is it?” Ez asked.

Santa cleared his throat. “I can’t get you to the spirit realm, but there is someone who can. He’s been called a few names throughout the ages, but many refer to him as the Oaken King. If I’m the King of Winter, he’s the King of Summer.”

“Sounds great. I could use some warm weather,” Oliver said.

All eyes turned to him. Carol gave him a discerning glance.

“What? It’s cold. It would be nice to go someplace warm.” Oliver picked up a cookie and took a bite. He groaned in elation as he chewed.

Oliver turned to Holly and said, “These are fantastic. Extraordinary. Have you considered selling them? I could sell them in my store, and we could make a fortune.”

“Oliver! What did I tell you?” Carol yelled.

“What? This is business,” Oliver said.

Holly chuckled. “I appreciate the offer, but my cookies aren’t for sale. They’re special. There are limited runs every year.”

Oliver pulled out a business card from inside his coat pocket and passed it across the table. “If you ever reconsider . . .”

“Will you stop?” Ez said to Oliver before turning to Santa. “How do we make contact with the Oaken King?”

“Well, you’ll need a fairy tree. They’re not easy to come by anymore. A lot of the old forests have been torn down, and the fairies haven’t decided to create new trees,” Santa said.

That is a fairy tree.

Her words to Hugo a few months back coursed through her mind. Her eyes glimmered at the thought. The brightness of hope beamed from her, fighting against any traces of despair. She smiled and betrayed her secret knowledge.

“I know where one is,” Alice said.

All eyes focused on her.

“You know where a fairy tree is located?” Ez asked.

“There’s one in Newbury Grove. It’s in Wildgrove Park. Hugo told me it’s the founder’s tree,” Alice said with a gleeful tone.

“The founder’s tree?” Oliver asked.

“It makes sense if you said Madeline Sinclair is involved,” Carol said. “The founder’s tree was her tree. Newbury Grove was founded because of the tree.”

“What are the odds the two are connected?” Oliver asked.

“Better than you think,” Alice answered. She turned to Santa. “Can you get us an audience with the Oaken King?

Santa rose from his chair and went to the hearth. He plucked a sprig of holly intertwined with the garland decorating the mantle. He moved to Alice and took her hand. He carefully placed the sprig in her palm.

“Take this. Tell him it’s an offering from me, the Winter King, and he is to grant you an audience,” he said as he closed Alice’s fingers around the sprig.

Alice glanced down at the offering and then to Santa. “Thank you,” she said as her eyes welled. “Thank you for the hope.”

With a wink, Santa replied, “It’s what I do. Now, it’s a rather cold night for walking in Newbury Grove. I’ll take you myself.”

“You don’t need to—” Alice started.