As the Snow Drifts: &You Anthologies

As

the

Snow

Drifts

A Cozy Winter Anthology

Edited by Nicole Frail

And You Press

An Imprint of Nicole Frail Books, LLC

Arrangement copyright © 2024 by Nicole Frail

Third Friday copyright © 2024 by Sarah Dawson Powell; Cows and Kisses copyright © 2024 by J.E. Smith; Sunbeam copyright © 2024 by Guihan Larsen; A Prairie Tale copyright © 2024 by Amy Kelly; Revelations in the Snow copyright © 2024 by Debby Meltzer Quick; Winter Escape copyright © 2024 by Eliza Vaccaro; Snowflakes and Second Chances copyright © 2024 by Krista Renee; The Winter Games of Sophie Berlin copyright © 2024 by Renata Illustrata; Once Upon a Storm copyright © 2024 by S.B. Rizk

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

For permission requests, publicity requests, or other inquiries, write to

nicolefrailbooks@gmail.com.

To order in bulk or to sell this book in your retail brick-and-mortar or online store, contact nicolefrailbooks@gmail.com.

Cover design and interior illustrations by Kerri Odell

Edited and typeset by Nicole Frail/Nicole Frail Edits, LLC.

First publication: November 2024

Follow the publisher at:

www.nicolefrailbooks.com | @nicolefrailbooks

www.andyoupress.com | @andyoupress

Print ISBNs: 978-1-965852-00-2, 978-1-965852-02-6

Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand, and for a talk beside the fire: it is time for home.

—Edith Sitwell

Contents

Introduction

Short Story Summaries

Third Friday

Cows and Kisses

Sunbeam

Prairie Tale

Revelations in the Snow

Winter Escape

Snowflakes & Second Chances

The Winter Games of Sophie Berlin 

Once Upon a Storm

About the Authors

Contributor Library

About the Editor

Acknowledgments

Introduction

Nicole Frail

Thank you for selecting As the Snow Drifts: A Cozy Winter Anthology! This is the first title to launch from a new (super-small) independent press, and it includes the first published works of many of its contributors, so the fact that you’re taking a chance on so many new voices is admirable, and we all thank you for the support you’ve already shown us.

Within these pages, you will find winter weather in many of its expected forms: snowflakes and snow flurries, ice and frost, below-freezing temperatures and bitter winds.

You will also come across the more common ways we seek warmth when we encounter these frigid temperatures during the winter months: designated spots on the couch and claimed blankets, hot cocoa and tea (and coffee!), lit fireplaces and firepits, and warm hugs from those we love most.

The short stories presented in this collection define the idea of cozy in different ways, however. When you think of being cozy, you may envision yourself wrapped in a blanket, snuggled up in front of a fire, with a warm mug of your favorite beverage and a book in your lap (and perhaps a cat or two). The storm may be raging outside, but you’re inside, comforted by the idea that you and your loved ones are safe.

In As the Snow Drifts, seasoned and first-time authors alike certainly don’t skimp on those warm-blanket and hot-chocolate moments, but they also give you weekend getaways with best friends, family reunions in enchanted houses, emotional healing through family recipes and memories, crushes that make even frozen hearts melt, that fuzzy feeling that comes with doing something selfless for neighbors and community members, and the satisfaction in knowing you’ve put yourself—your happiness, or literally your life—on the line for your loved ones and that they’ve been blessed with health and happiness in return. We hope you enjoy our winter collection. Stay safe and warm!

Short Story Summaries

Third Friday

by Sarah Dawson Powell

Sophia struggles to maintain a project she designed with her children years ago to help the less fortunate. A piece of mail with no return address could change everything for so many.

Cows & Kisses

by J.E. Smith

Lifelong friends Maggie and Ben learn that it only takes one snowy day on the ranch—and one unplanned overnight with a single camp pack—to see that love has been in front of them this whole time.

Sunbeam

by Guihan Larsen

A story about an older brother’s departure for the Vietnam War, a reflection on family, Chicago winters, and the lasting weight of absence.

Prairie Tale

by Amy Kelly

The perils of a winter storm and the icy grips of a snow queen threaten Mary while she fetches water for her laboring Mama.

Revelations in the Snow

by Debby Meltzer Quick

Peter left his family four years ago, fearing that his secret could destroy them. But this winter, he’s come back home, and he must decide if he should ring that bell and reveal all.

Winter Escape

by Eliza Vaccaro

Abby and Raven escape to a seaside resort town for a little mid-winter R&R. Romance is in the air for Abby, but after a recent breakup, she is reluctant to start anew. But the innkeeper, Jake, is just so charming . . .

Snowflakes & Second Chances

by Krista Renee

Winter, mothers, and pie. Oh, my! When a winter storm unexpectedly hits east Texas, Lulu and Ella make the most of it. . . . Turns out they aren’t the only ones keeping warm.

The Winter Games of Sophie Berlin

by Renata Illustrata

Self-reliant coach Sophie Berlin believes tennis is the love of her life, but when she hosts a charity tournament over winter break, can one desirable umpire call out her need to believe in love again and change how Sophie plays the game forever?

Once Upon a Storm

by S.B. Rizk

Luna volunteers to host her family’s annual Icicle Inn-Cursion, despite the potential issue of meddlesome books and creatures that live in her enchanted library. What happens when you put a family with secrets and pent-up resentment under one roof, call it a vacation, and mix in a bit of mischief caused by books who have personalities of their own?

Third Friday

Sarah Dawson Powell

Ipull the van up to the curb and put it in park. It’s a bristly twenty-five degrees outside this evening, and my two youngest were not at all enthused about spending Christmas Eve this way. If we’re being honest, I’m not too happy about it either. Our family has long-standing traditions on this day aging back to when I was a child. Being here meant we didn’t get to carry out our usual traditions.

But it’s the third Friday of the month, and come rain, snow, or shine, this is what we do on the third Friday of every month.

Hats and gloves, I remind the kids. You’re gonna need them.

Huh? Holden asks, barely glancing up from his iPhone.

Leilani rolls her eyes. Put your phone down and listen, dipwad.

Stop, I tell her as she opens the passenger door. C’mon, Holden. Let’s get set up.

Holden is only ten, but he’s been helping out since he was eight. He knows the drill. Leilani is fifteen and entirely tired of her brother’s existence.

Stepping out of the van, I’m careful to avoid the slush pile that’s accumulated. As cold as it is, the last thing I need is frozen toes all evening. I join Leilani at the hatch just as she opens it. Together, we pull out the first table and set it up on the sidewalk. When we go back for the second table, Holden is still sitting in the van, his phone inches from his face.

Holden! Move it or you won’t see that phone for a week.

It’s too cold for this. Can’t we do it another day?

Leilani pulls the table toward her. Another day won’t be the third Friday, so obviously not.

Plus, I add, we will be extra appreciated because it’s so cold.

Holden finally pulls himself from the van—without gloves—just as Leilani and I are unfolding the second table. This sucks.

Your attitude is what sucks. Now, put some gloves on and start getting the totes out.

He lets out a grunt as he turns and snatches his gloves off the seat. If I get frostbite, it’s your fault.

Maybe, but you’re still helping.

Leilani and I start unpacking the cups and lids, the snacks we have available, and then the three coffee urns. Regular, decaf, and hot water. We have positioned the packets of hot chocolate and apple cider behind us in the van ever since the time we had someone grab the whole box of hot chocolate from the table and run.

It was about four years ago. My older daughter, Celeste, and I were manning—or womaning, as the case may be—the hot beverage table. Celeste was filling up a cup, listening to a woman talk about how she had been able to see her new grandbaby recently. I turned around to grab a few hotdogs wrapped in foil from the warmer. When I heard the stuttered grunt of disbelief spurt from Celeste’s throat and the woman stop talking about the rosy cheeks of her grandchild, I turned around.

Celeste was staring down the road to the west. That dude just made off with the hot chocolate.

A few of our usuals had yelled out for the man to stop, come back. Some shouted expletives. When I looked down at the table, I realized he had taken all the hot chocolate packs. The worst part was that I had just opened the fifty pack about ten minutes before it happened, and it had been the last of the hot chocolate we’d had with us. Everyone was stunned by what happened. No one was upset, just somewhat disappointed at the unexpected loss of the hot chocolate for the night. There were plenty of other hot drinks to go around.

I leave Leilani to finish setting the table and go over to help Holden pull the lids off the totes, which are nowhere near as full as they used to be. Together we set out a few pairs of gloves, some stocking caps and scarves, rolled fleece blankets, and pairs of socks. We leave more in the totes, and as people take what they need from the table, we will retrieve more from the totes. Sometimes people ask if we have a specific color, and we’ll dig in the totes to see if we can meet their request.

When you have so little that you rely on handouts to keep you warm, the least you can ask for is your favorite color, and I think that wish should be granted. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but I hate when we receive donations from people who would just buy up fifty pairs of black stretch gloves. The black stretch gloves always went quickly, some people not afraid to ask for more than one pair for extra warmth, but what I love are the donations of colored or patterned items. Items that had personality to them.

Just because a person is unhoused doesn’t mean they don’t enjoy pretty things. I’ve seen faces light up like the sun when they’re handed a purple scarf or a blanket with cats on it.

It’s the little things.

Sophia, a familiar voice calls out. We weren’t sure you would come tonight, being Christmas Eve and all.

See, Mom? Even he knows we’re supposed to be at home, Holden says.

Now, Ernest, how could we call ourselves Third Friday if we weren’t here on the third Friday every month?

Ernest makes his way to the table. His nose and cheeks are bright red from the cold and possibly from years of alcoholism, but that’s not my business. What is my business is the hole in his stocking hat. What you got to eat tonight? Anything hot?

I glance over my shoulder at the tote of nonperishable food. Just the drinks are hot tonight, I tell him. We have granola bars, cracker packs, some beef jerky, nuts, cookies.

Ernest frowns when I turn back around. I can’t hardly eat that stuff without no teeth, he says. Beef jerky? He shakes his head. What kind of cookies?

Grabbing some fig cookies and chewy chocolate chip, I ask, Either of these catch your fancy? He nods as Sally and Bob walk up. Hey, guys! How are you? Ernest takes both packs of cookies. Don’t forget to grab you a new hat, Ernest, I tell him as Leilani hands him a cup of hot coffee.

Can you believe what is going on around here? Sally asks. They’re really pushing my buttons, you know. She juts a finger at me. They think we don’t know what they’re up to. Nodding enthusiastically, she adds, Just wait and see. Her head bobs a moment longer before she drops her hand. Is there hot chocolate?

Leilani loves Sally. When she first started coming around, she was a little scary. But we know now that she is all bark and no bite with a touch of mental illness. Sometimes she presents like she’s a child or talks to us like we’re her family members. Years ago, she stole ten-year-old Leilani’s heart when she asked her how her kids were doing and rambled about how they must be getting so big. After Sally left that night, Leilani approached me.

So, is she just, like, crazy or something? Why would she think I have kids?

It was a busy evening, so my quick response was, Not everyone’s mind works the same. Later on, when we were home, Leilani and I talked more about mental illness and possible diagnoses she could have, and that despite whatever her issues were, she was human.

How are you, Sally? Leilani asks her tonight while adding the hot chocolate packet to the hot water. Staying warm?

It’s cold, Sally tells her. It’s a cold night.

Bob speaks up beside her. January first me and Sally are moving into the high-rise over on Tenth Street. We been waiting for almost two years to get in there.

My heart leaps with joy for them. That’s so wonderful!

We even have some furniture donations lined up. He smiles as he takes the coffee Leilani is handing him. It’s the best Christmas gift ever.

Mom, Holden calls out. Where are the coats?

I go over to where my son is standing behind the van. All we have left are these size smalls. A quick glance at the woman at the table tells me she is not fitting into a small. I’m so sorry. I know the Mission over on Blackstone has coats sometimes.

She sighs. I’ve been there. They never have any in my size. Lifting her arms, she looks down around her. I’m layered up, but sometimes I just wish I had a coat.

Do you have a phone number? I ask. I can check with some of my resources and see if I can come up with one.

No, no phone. It’s okay. She glances down at the assortment of goods on the table. It’s okay.

"What happened to all those coats we used