Allie Calvin is the oldest and only daughter of Scott Calvin. She was 15 when her father puts on the suit. Allie Calvin is nothing like her brother. She doesn't believe in Santa, she doesn't believe in magic, and she doesn't believe in elves. Allie...
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The winter wind howled outside, a frigid reminder that they would most likely freeze if they went outside without any sort of coat. Inside, it was warm and inviting, with flickering candlelight casting playful shadows against the walls. The aroma of hot cocoa and chocolate wafted through the air, a comforting prelude to the night that awaited Bernard and Allie.
Allie rolled up her sleeves, her breath fogging up the cold glass as she peered out at the snow-draped landscape. She seemed determined to escape the winter chill with a batch of cookies for Bernard, who was nestled comfortably in his favorite armchair, one of his many worn novels in hand, flipping pages with contentment. Allie hadn't know that he was such a big reader, but he almost always had a book in his hands and looked calm and relaxed while he did, and today, she wanted to bridge that passion with a plate of her freshly baked treats.
She turned her attention back to the task at hand, mixing flour, sugar, and cocoa powder in a large bowl, her long hair pulled back into a lazy ponytail. Though, in her eagerness to create something wonderful, she had begun to create a delightful mess around her. Flour plumed into the air like soft white smoke as she stirred furiously, while cocoa powder dusted the counter and splattered across the floor like tiny brown freckles. In her focus, she paid little attention to the traces she was leaving behind, the joy of baking consuming her entirely.
Growing up, she and her Dad had always baked together. Since Allie could stand up right, her Dad always had her by his side, letting her help him bake. She grew to love it, and whenever she got a chance, she would always be found in the kitchen, ingredients lining the counter, dirty bowls and utensils filling the sink, and the smell of cookies filling the air.
Once the cookies were baking in the oven, she leaned against the counter, admiring the warm scents wafting toward her. A smile spread across her face; she could already envision Bernard's delight as he savored each bite.
After a few minutes, she pulled out the golden-brown treats, each cookie radiating warmth and sweetness. Her excitement bubbled over as she arranged them carefully on a plate, but in her haste, a few crumbs scattered across the counter.
"There's no such thing as too much love, right?" she muttered to herself, gathering the plate in her hands.
With a deep breath, Allie started toward the living room, her heart fluttering with anticipation. As she entered, the soft light illuminated Bernard, his focus unbroken by her arrival. Yet, as he looked up from his book, a wide smile broke across his face — but not for the reasons she had hoped.
"Are contemplating a more appropriate wardrobe for a baker?" he teased, his laughter ringing through the warm air.
Allie glanced down in confusion, only to realize she was covered in flour and cocoa powder from head to toe, the evidence of her enthusiasm framing her like a culinary ghost. She laughed, loud and vibrant, the sound bouncing across the room like snowballs thrown in fun. "Well, I might have gone a little overboard. But look!" she said, raising the plate with pride. "Cookies!"
Bernard, his eyes sparkling with amusement, reached for a cookie, taking a bite. "These are great! And the artwork?" He gestured to her flour-dusted cheeks and the smudges on her apron that resembled an abstract painting. "You've created a new style in baking—a real masterpiece!"
Blushing but unable to help her grin, Allie laughed. She grabbed a rag from the kitchen, and wiped her face and hands, getting all the powder off of her. After bringing over two mugs of hot chocolate, she joined Bernard, and he set his book down, thanking her as he took a sip.
As they settled onto the couch, cookies and a warm mug of cocoa in hand, the mess in the kitchen lost its importance. Instead, it transformed into the perfect backdrop to a winter's day filled with warmth, love, and laughter. In that moment, amidst the snow and the delicious chaos, Allie knew that the best memories often came with a sprinkle of mess, especially with someone like Bernard by her side.
Hours slipped by unnoticed until Allie, her eyelids heavy with the weight of the night, curled into the couch. "I think I might just...rest my eyes for a moment," she murmured, her voice trailing off.
"Okay, but only for a moment," Bernard replied, a smile playing on his lips. He wrapped a warm blanket around her, tucking it gently. The moment was tender, and he felt a rush of affection that made the world outside seem far less daunting.
As Allie settled deeper into the couch, her breathing softened, slipping into the realm of dreams. Bernard looked at her, an artist's inspiration. The candlelight flickered, casting a dance of shadows across her serene face, the peaceful rise and fall of her chest mesmerizing. Suddenly, an idea sparked in his mind.
Moving quietly to his small art corner, he rummaged through his supplies, gathering brushes and paints. The moment felt sacred, like he was channeling magic from the flickering fire into every stroke. With each dab of color, he captured the essence of the girl who had burst into his life like the brightness of winter's first snowfall.
His brush glided smoothly across the canvas as he painted Allie's portrait. He took his time, focusing not only on her physical features but also the way she lit up a room with her laughter. He mixed shades of sunshine for her hair, a soft pink for her cheeks, and a deep warm hue for her cozy spirit. Each stroke felt like composing a love letter, an expression of everything she meant to him as he immortalized her beauty on canvas.
Outside, the wind howled, snowflakes blanketed the world, but within the cocoon of Bernard's home, time stood still. Allie stirred slightly, a fleeting movement as she snuggled deeper into her blanket, oblivious to the artistry unfolding just a few feet away.
As Bernard stepped back to admire his work, a sense of giddy pride washed over him. He had captured her essence, a moment frozen in time. He sensed that his heart had expanded, filled with warmth, love, and hope for the possibilities that lay ahead.
As he let the painting dry, he walked over and kneeled in front of her, brushing some hair out of her face. Allie tilted her head into his touch, and Bernard couldn't help the smile that spread across his face. He leaned forward, kissing her cheek. "Goodnight, Allison."
The girl only leaned further into his touch, and Bernard stood up, joining her on the other side of the couch. He draped a blanket over himself, leaning into the couch, and letting his own eyes closed. They'd clean up the mess in the kitchen tomorrow, but for now, they'd rest.
