Snowflakes drift past the car window like bits of glitter as you pull into the drive of your cozy wooden lodge, tucked between tall pines heavy with snow. Hazel presses her face to the glass, eyes wide.

“Is this ours?” she whispers, her voice full of awe.

You smile. “For the week, yeah. What do you think?”

“It’s like a storybook,” Simon says softly beside you, his gloved hand finding yours over the console. His breath fogs in the chilly air as he looks out at the fairy lights strung along the porch railing. “They’ve thought of everything.”

When you open the car door, the cold air rushes in, sharp and clean. Willa tumbles out, bundled in her purple snowsuit, immediately sinking her mittened hands into the powdery snow. “It’s so cold!” she squeals, laughing.

“That’s the idea, love,” Simon chuckles, coming around to lift Elsie from her car seat. The toddler blinks at the white world in amazement, then lets out a tiny, delighted, “Snow!”

You can’t help but laugh, the sound mingling with the crunch of boots on snow as you carry bags toward the lodge. Inside, the air smells of pine and cinnamon, and the fire in the stone hearth crackles warmly.

“Whoa…” Hazel spins slowly, taking it all in—the wooden beams, the twinkling tree in the corner, the mugs lined up on the counter. “This is the best Christmas ever.”