A Song for the Season

One Last Show

Tenney pitches her idea to Dad: they already have the stage, the equipment, and a captive audience snowed in at the hotel. All they need is a little holiday spirit. Dad seems surprised she wants to do anything after their disastrous day, but he warms to the plan fast, musing that good music might take people’s minds off being stranded. He returns with Diana, a petite, businesslike hotel manager who loves the idea, as does the diner’s manager. Tenney decides to keep it a surprise from Logan and Zane.

Dad and Tenney get to work. The diner’s stage is too small for Logan’s drum kit, so they haul out his guitar and add a second stool for an acoustic set. She tunes strings, plugs into their amplifiers, and tests microphones. Once ready, Dad slips off to round up Logan and Zane.

Waiting alone, Tenney’s excitement curdles into nerves. Two harried waitresses weave between the crowded tables, and the diner feels loud and grumpy rather than festive. She nearly clips an older man with her guitar. He scowls, snaps at her to watch it, and turns his back to sulk in a nearby booth. She second-guesses the whole plan, worried that if it flops, Logan will never forgive her.

Then Logan and Zane appear in the doorway. Before Logan can ask what she’s doing, Tenney leans into the microphone. “Happy holidays!” Hardly anyone glances her way, but she presses on, telling the room that since everyone is stuck together on Christmas Eve, why not celebrate anyway? A few more heads lift, and by the time she finishes, some diners shush their tablemates.

Looking at Logan, Tenney declares she wants to play a new song for a friend, as a reminder that he isn’t alone. Logan crosses his arms warily, something in his expression softening. She lets the melody carry her worries away. The song describes an icy, lonely road—hours of driving with no certainty of getting home. But she sings that even in a storm, hope can carry people through until the skies clear. And together, we’ll find home. Logan looks close to tears at the chorus.

By the final verse, the whole diner hangs on every word, and the room breaks into cheers. Eyeing Logan nervously, Tenney invites her “very talented partner, Logan Everett” onto the stage. His mouth falls open in a small, surprised O, but he hesitates only a second before grabbing his guitar to polite applause. She asks if he’s ready, and he asks what for? And with a smile, Tenney says the last show of the tour.

Logan surveys the crowd, and for a moment Tenney fears he’ll bolt. Instead, he cracks a grin.

For the next half hour, they trade through a ballad, a carol, a country-rock number, and a melancholy duet, the applause swelling each time. Near the end, they play Portia’s “Cold Creek Christmas,” and dozens of strangers’ voices join in. They close in two-part harmony, wishing the room a season full of joy. Scanning the room of warm, unfamiliar faces, Tenney realizes that barely an hour after crying in the snow, there’s nowhere else she’d rather be.