Christmas Charms: A small-town Christmas romance from Hallmark Publishing

by Teri Wilson

  The ad even includes a floppy-eared puppy romping at their feet. It’s all picture-perfect—though not exactly realistic. I’m just not sure why the man’s fiancée-to-be is wearing a beaded evening gown to decorate the tree. I’m all for glamour, but that seems like an impractical fashion choice. Just saying.

  I guess you can take the girl out of Owl Lake, but you can’t quite take the Owl Lake completely out of the girl.

  “It’s insane down there. You wouldn’t believe how many couples are getting engaged this Christmas.” Maya’s cheeks flush pink, and her gaze shifts to the bracelet in my hands. “Cute. Let me guess—you helped the customer choose the charms?”

  “It’s my favorite part of my job.” I place the bracelet in its box and arrange it just so.

  “And you’re absurdly good at it.” She points to the apple charm. “That’s an especially nice touch.”

  “Thanks. It’s a reminder of her trip to New York and at the same time, it sets her bracelet apart from one filled with traditional Christmas charms.” I press the box’s lid in place and begin unspooling a section of white satin ribbon for the bow. “The best charm bracelets are the ones with little unexpected touches, don’t you think?”

  “Absolutely,” Maya says, and she appears to be biting back a smile.

  I narrow my gaze at her. “What?”

  She blinks. “What do you mean, ‘what?’”

  “You’re acting weird. Have you been sampling the champagne downstairs? I thought it was only for the customers.”

  “Very funny.” She rolls her eyes as she picks up the scissors to cut the ribbon I’m winding into a bow in just the right spot without my having to utter a word. We’ve both tied so many white Windsor bows in the past few weeks that we could do it in our sleep. “I just don’t see how you can be so calm when you’re leaving tomorrow.”

  My heart skips a beat. I might seem calm on the outside, but on the inside, I’m counting the minutes until our plane takes off. My bags have been packed for days, which is probably a good thing because an hour or so ago, Jeremy popped into the charms department to tell me he wants us to go out after work tonight for a special pre-Paris dinner.

  Jeremy works at Windsor, just like Maya and me. Except instead of putting together charm bracelets or selling engagement rings, he helps princesses pick out tiaras and arranges for Hollywood stars to borrow extravagant pieces from the vault to wear to award shows or movie premieres. He works on the first floor in the fine jewels section, where even a single item in the display cases cost significantly more than my parents’ modest, Adirondacks-style lakeside home. Jeremy and I met on my first day of work when he’d caught me staring, wide-eyed, at a diamond necklace that had once been worn by Audrey Hepburn. A year later, we started dating.

  “Christmas in Paris!” Maya sighs. “It’s so insanely romantic, just like those old movies you force me to watch all the time.”

  “Hey, you loved Funny Face. Don’t pretend you didn’t.”

  She shrugs one shoulder. “Guilty.”

  Finished with the bow, I tuck the rectangular box into a matching blue carrier bag. My little customer and her dad are still sipping cocoa by the windows, watching the bright emerald lawn of Central Park slowly disappear beneath a fine layer of snow. I turn to fully face Maya, and sure enough, her lips are starting to quirk back into a secret smile.

  “There.” I point at her face. I’ve shared a tiny fifth-floor walkup with her long enough to know when she’s trying to keep a secret. “Something weird is definitely going on. You look like someone just told you the exact contents of Santa’s naughty and nice lists.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says in a wholly unconvincing manner. “But let’s just say I might know which of those lists you’re on.”

  “Maya.” I stare hard at her. Hard enough to peer inside her brain, if such a thing were possible. “You’re not saying what I think you’re saying, are you?”

  My heart pounds so hard that I think it might beat right out of my chest.

  Here’s the thing—when you’ve been dating a perfectly nice man for three years and he invites you to the most romantic city in the entire world for the holidays, it’s not completely out of the realm of possibility that he might be thinking about proposing. I mean, I don’t think I’m being over-the-top presumptuous to wonder. Anyone who’s read a single romance novel would wonder the same thing.

  And when said boyfriend works at the most famous jewelry store in the world, you might also have an inkling where he’d purchase an engagement ring. After all, we do get a sizable discount on employee purchases, which would be great if I ever found myself with an invitation to the Met Gala. Sadly, that’s not my reality. But my reality does contain a secret weapon in the form of a best friend who works in the very department where Jeremy would purchase an engagement ring, if and when the time is right.

  Please let the time be right.

  “My lips are sealed.” Maya clamps her mouth closed and mimes locking it with an invisible key. Her subsequent silence lasts less than a fraction of a second. “Hypothetically speaking, though, if I did know that a certain someone recently made a significant purchase with his employee discount, wouldn’t you want to be surprised? A true friend would keep her mouth shut.”

  “No, she wouldn’t.” I shake my head. We’ve been over this before. I don’t like surprises, especially ones involving marriage proposals. “A true friend would give me a heads up so I could prepare an appropriate response.”

  “An appropriate response?” Maya’s forehead crinkles in confusion. “You sound like you’re talking about replying to a job offer instead of potentially agreeing to marry the love of your life.”

  A weird lump forms in my throat as her words snag inside my head. The love of my life. For a second, the memory of a handsome, chiseled face flits through my thoughts—a chiseled face that doesn’t belong to Jeremy at all, but to the man I just saw juggling packages outside FAO Schwartz. I haven’t looked into eyes that blue since the first time I was surprised by a diamond solitaire.

  I blink hard, willing the vision to disappear. I probably shouldn’t be thinking about Aidan Flynn at a time like this.

  “Jeremy is definitely the love of my life,” I blurt out.

  “I know. That’s what I just said.” Maya studies me, frowning. “Are you okay? I thought you’d be over-the-moon excited.”

  “I am.” Of course I’m excited. I’m thrilled to pieces. Any girl would be. My life is about to seriously resemble one of the Windsor I Do Christmas ads, on multiple levels.

  Minus the evening gown, of course.

  “Good, because you look a little like you just took a gulp of expired eggnog.” Maya’s frown deepens. “I’m beginning to think you might be right about that heads up. Clearly you need one.”

  “I do,” I say, and when I realize I sound like a bride, I have the irrational urge to clamp my hand over my mouth.

  What is wrong with me all of a sudden? I’m in love with Jeremy. I’ve been fantasizing about marrying him for months already. Sometimes I even take a slow walk past the beautiful display windows of the Vera Wang boutique down the street and imagine what I might look like in bridal white, heading down the aisle toward him.

  “Okay. Well, because I know you and Jeremy are crazy about each other, and it would probably hurt his feelings in a major way if you accidentally got this same reindeer-in-the-headlights expression when he actually proposed, I’m going to go ahead and tell you what I know.” She takes a deep breath. “Seriously, I’m only spilling the beans so you can prepare—”

  “Oh my gosh, just tell me,” I whisper-scream. It’s not just that I’m impatient. My customers are probably getting low on hot chocolate by now and wondering why I’m still hanging out at the wrapping station. Plus, the line at the charms counter appears to be multiplying by the second.

&n
bsp; “Fine.” Maya pauses for dramatic effect. “Jeremy bought an engagement ring last week. Malik helped him pick it out, not me. I guess Jeremy thought I might ruin the surprise.”

  I can’t quite manage to bite back a smile.

  “Stop looking at me like that,” she says. “I totally could have kept it a secret if you hadn’t seemed so freaked out.”

  An amused silence follows.

  “I probably could have, anyway,” Maya concedes.

  “I believe you,” I say, imagining those big shopping bags from the department store down the street that have Believe printed across the top in swirling white script.

  “The ring was getting sized, so Jeremy picked it up today. That’s how I found out. And now he’s walking around this very minute with it in his pocket.” She starts vibrating with excitement again, like she’d been just moments ago before my minor, pre-proposal panic attack. “You’re going to get engaged over the holidays! Maybe even at the Eiffel Tower or on that bridge with all the love locks. It’s going to be magical.”

  A strange prickling sensation crawls up the back of my neck.

  Magical.

  It’s the second time in just a few minutes that someone’s used that word. My cute little customer described her charm bracelet the exact same way.

  I glance quickly in the direction of the hot cocoa stand and the wall of picture windows overlooking Madison Avenue. The child’s father has rid himself of his empty cup and is looking around the sales floor, no doubt pondering what’s taking me so long.

  “I have to get back to work before I get in trouble,” I say.

  “Of course you do.” Maya waves me off. “I’ll straighten up the wrap area and get back downstairs.”

  “Thank you.” I grin. “And thank you so much for running up here to tell me the big news, even though it’s supposed to be a secret. I owe you big time.”

  Maya throws her arms around me before I can take a step. “Ahh! I’m just so happy for you.”

  She releases me, and I nibble my bottom lip because it’s trembling all of a sudden and I think I might cry.

  Save it, I tell myself. Save all your happy tears for Jeremy.

  They are happy tears, aren’t they?

  I give Maya’s hand a tight squeeze, take a steadying breath and start walking toward my customers. My mind whirls and the snow outside falls harder than ever, making me feel as if I’ve been placed inside a snow globe that someone has given a ferocious shake.

  The Windsor bag containing the wrapped bracelet shakes in my grasp. Three floors below, Jeremy has an engagement ring tucked into one of his pockets. I try to imagine him slipping it onto my finger at one of the outrageously romantic Parisian sites Maya mentioned. Or maybe someplace different, like the Champs-Élysées, with row upon row of sparkling Christmas lights lining the path to the Arc de Triomphe.

  And then it hits me.

  Jeremy wants to take me to dinner tonight for a “special pre-Paris celebration.” I assumed he wanted to talk logistics for the trip—what we’ll do for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, which sights we’ll have time to visit, maybe go over the names of his family members again, so I’ll be prepared. But that twinkle in his eye when he mentioned dinner didn’t have anything to do with our itinerary, did it?

  My boyfriend isn’t going to propose on the love locks bridge or anywhere else in France. He’s going to ask me to marry him in New York.

  Right here.

  Tonight.

  Chapter Three

  My dinner date with Jeremy is scheduled for eight o’clock, two hours after my shift at the charms counter ends.

  Once I deliver the Christmas bracelet with the tiny apple charm to the young girl and her father, the rest of the day flies by in a dizzying whirl of engraved heart charms, silver gingerbread men and tiny blue-striped candy canes. The crush of holiday shoppers seems to be growing by the hour, and I barely have time for a bathroom break, much less a chance to figure out how I might be able to squeeze in a manicure before Jeremy slides his ring onto my finger.

  Somewhere between my initial panic at the thought of getting engaged and my trek through the crowded city streets to the minuscule apartment I share with Maya, any initial fears about marrying Jeremy melt away like yesterday’s snowfall. Thank goodness.

  Obviously I want to marry him. I’m madly in love with him—I’m certain of that. We’ve been dating three of the four years I’ve lived in New York. Jeremy is kind and thoughtful, and most importantly of all, he understands me. We’re like two sides of the same coin.

  He gets me, I think as I shrug off my coat, flip on the television and head straight for the card table in the living room that serves as my jewelry-making station.

  The apartment seems eerily quiet. Maya is still busy at Windsor, and without her constant stream of chatter to calm my nerves until my big date tonight, I need a happy distraction.

  Cue Jimmy Stewart and Donna Reed.

  It’s a Wonderful Life is playing on the classics channel. Perfect. I still have an hour until Jeremy is supposed to arrive, so I give my make-up a quick once over, adding a classic red lip and a swish of winged eyeliner. Then I change into a new LBD (little black dress) from my favorite retro online shopping site. It’s got a nipped-in waist, a full skirt and a faux pearl-encrusted collar. I’ve been saving the dress for Paris, but there’s a timeless quality about it that makes it perfect for an engagement dress, so I remove it from my luggage and put it on.

  I do a little twirl in front of the full-length mirror in our tiny bathroom, and then I lose myself in the black-and-white world of Christmas magic on the television screen while I sort through the haul of costume jewelry from my most recent estate-sale splurge.

  As much as I love the sparkly new charms in the department where I work, vintage jewelry is my favorite—charms, especially. I adore the way an antique charm bracelet tells the story of the person who wore it. Trinkets and tiny baubles represent favorite vacations, holidays and long-lost loves. When I’m not busy working the charms counter, I love taking my vintage finds and turning them into new, re-crafted pieces. The Santa and reindeer necklace that Maya’s been wearing to work since the day after Thanksgiving is a gift I gave her last Christmas, made from a box of charms I found in hole-in-the-wall antique shop on Coney Island.

  My current project is a brooch with a Victorian-style heart charm dangling from its center. It looks like a frilly, silver Valentine—perfect for a bride-to-be. If I work fast, I can get it finished before Jeremy gets here. While Clarence the angel takes George Bailey on an eerie and magical journey through Christmas on my television, I secure the heart into place with just enough time to pin the brooch onto the lapel of my best winter coat and give my nails a quick once-over with a coat of holly-red polish. When Jeremy knocks on the door, I’m more than ready for a holiday proposal.

  “Hi,” he says, smiling down at me from the threshold. His gaze flits briefly to the silver charm dangling from my coat collar, but he doesn’t mention it.

  A flicker of disappointment passes through me, which is beyond ridiculous. My jewelry designs are just a hobby. Jeremy has always been supportive of my tinkering—he’s just not particularly interested in vintage jewelry. Also, the man has a diamond in his pocket. “Hi, yourself. You look nice.”

  He’s dressed in one of the sleek suits he always wears to work. Actually, now that I think about it, I rarely catch a glimpse of Jeremy without a tie fashioned into a Hanover knot anchored firmly to the collar of his button-down Oxford.

  “Thanks. We have a special night ahead of us, so it seemed like a good idea to dress the part.” He offers me his elbow.

  See? Total marriage material. My stomach does a little flip as I loop my arm through his, and we’re on our way.

  As we walk toward midtown, Jeremy tells me all about the important people he helped at Windsor throughout his shift—the
congressman who purchased a string of rare gold pearls for his wife, the Broadway star who needed a pair of flashy earrings for a holiday party at the Rainbow Room. I’ve been looking forward to telling him about the sweet father-daughter duo I met today and the charm bracelet I designed for the little girl, but I change my mind as he keeps going on about his VIPs.

  “I saw Maya just before the end of my shift,” he finally says.

  My footsteps slow as we approach a street corner where a Salvation Army volunteer in a red apron is ringing a bell beside one of the bright red kettles that pop up all over the city during the holidays. I dig through my red leather crossbody bag for a few dollar bills and drop them into the kettle.

  Jeremy doesn’t seem to notice I’ve stopped until he’s about to step off of the curb and realizes I’m no longer beside him. “Ashley?”

  “Sorry.” I dash back to his side. “What were you saying?”

  He sighs and waits for me to catch up. “Nothing, really. Just that Maya seemed awfully happy about something. She was even more animated than usual.”

  I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. If there’s an award for world’s worst poker face, Maya’s the winner, hands down. “Her holiday spirit must have kicked in.”

  “She’s not the only one.” Jeremy reaches for my hand and gives it a squeeze. “Do you mind if we make a quick stop before dinner? I’ve got a special Christmas surprise for you.”

  This is it.

  I grin up at him. I’m practically sparkling. “I’d never turn down a Christmas surprise.”

  “Wonderful,” he says, releasing my hand to pull on a pair of sleek leather gloves. “You’re going to love this.”

  I dig through the pockets of my coat for the mittens my grandmother crocheted for me back when I was in college. I can’t quite give them up even though they’re woefully out of place in an environment like Windsor. But this is date night—we’re not going to Windsor Fine Jewelry.

  Except the closer we get to my mysterious surprise, the more familiar the direction we’re heading begins to feel. We pass FAO Schwartz, where the doormen are dressed as toy soldiers and a seven-foot teddy bear looms in the front window, and I can’t help but think about Aidan. I glance at the entrance to the famous toy store, half-expecting to see him still there, arms laden with packages and shopping bags. He’s not, of course, and the keen sense of disappointment that courses through me catches me by surprise.