by Teri Wilson
“Wow, you must be really proud of him,” I say, and out of the corner of my eye, I see Susan watching me with an expression so wistful, it makes my chest ache.
Once Aidan reaches the top, the mayor of Owl Lake leads the final countdown to the moment when the lights will flash on. The shouts around me are earsplitting, echoing in the frosty night air.
10, 9, 8…
A shiver runs up and down my spine, and I’m not sure if it’s a shiver of anticipation or just the sentimental pride of knowing how much my Dad has contributed to this moment and to all the Christmases in Owl Lake’s future. All I know for certain is that I’m glad Aidan is the one putting the star on top of the tree tonight. It seems fitting somehow.
7, 6, 5…
Even Fruitcake gets in on the action, letting out a woof with each number.
4, 3, 2…
And in the final moment before the mayor flips the switch and I’m bathed in shimmering light, Aidan looks down. Sophie and Oliva squeal, Josh lets out a loud whoop, and Susan and my parents wave like crazy. Aidan’s gaze sweeps the crowd until his attention finally comes to rest on our little group, and I’m the one he’s looking at. Our eyes lock, and I can’t seem to breathe. I can feel his stare, every bit as real as if he were standing beside me and holding my hand.
1!
He’s so high up, balancing a star in his grasp, but by the way my pulse roars, it could be my heart resting solidly in his hands once again.
It’s not. I know it’s not, but as the lights come to life and Aidan places the star on the tiptop of the beautiful tree, he smiles at me. It’s a smile that lights up his entire face, and it feels like everything.
It feels like…
Magic.
Mission accomplished, Dad. I smile back at Aidan. Snowflakes catch in my eyelashes, but the thousands of glittering Christmas lights shining from the tree’s graceful branches warm my face. I’m happy.
And then, somewhere above the noise of the crowd, I hear the tinkling sound I’ve come to know all too well.
Jingle, jingle.
After the tree lighting, Susan invites me out for gingerbread lattes with her family. I’m consciously aware that Susan’s family includes Aidan, so I do my best to bow out. I’m still feeling distinctly floaty from the look that passed between us as he placed the star at the top of the tree, but I have no idea what it actually meant, if anything.
Maybe I simply imagined it. Or maybe it was quite literally the product of wishful thinking, brought to life by the magic bracelet. The jingle of the charms as the lights came on was unmistakable, and to be honest, the sound made my heart sink. I want Aidan to smile at me because he wants to, not because a vintage piece of jewelry somehow ordained it.
“I should probably get home,” I say, glancing at my parents and silently pleading with them to agree.
Clearly, they’re oblivious to my reluctance to join the Susan and her family on their quest for hot holiday beverages, because they urge me to go out with my friends and have a good time.
“Please come with us,” Olivia pleads. “Pleeeeeease.”
Even Fruitcake turns his melting brown eyes toward me. It’s hopeless. There’s no way I’m getting out of this.
“Okay, sure,” I relent. “So long as I’m not intruding.”
Susan rolls her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course you’re not.”
My parents hug me goodbye and within minutes, I’m seated in a comfortably worn leather booth at a cozy bistro called The Owl’s Nest. It sits directly opposite the Owl Lake Inn, overlooking the grand town Christmas tree on one side and the frost-covered frozen lake on the other. The lights from the majestic tree reflect off its icy surface, making the lake look like liquid gold.
“Sorry I’m late,” Aidan says as he joins us about fifteen minutes after our gingerbread lattes arrive. “I had to get the ladder truck back to the station.”
He presses gentle kisses to the tops of his nieces’ heads before taking a seat beside Josh, across from me. If he’s surprised by my presence, he hides it well.
“Hi, Ash.” He reaches for a drink menu.
“Hi.” I gesture toward the mug sitting in front of me, towering with whipped cream and a little gingerbread man cookie balanced on the rim at a jaunty angle. “Do you really need to look at the menu when you can order this sugar-laden work of art?”
“Point taken.” The corner of his mouth quirks into a half grin.
“Another gingerbread latte, coming right up,” the server says.
“It looks like someone has found her Christmas spirit,” Aidan says after the waiter is gone. He takes in all the shiny bits and bobbles of my glaringly green Christmas sweater and arches a brow.
“Isn’t it the fanciest sweater you’ve ever seen?” Olivia bounces in her seat.
“Fruitcake has one just like it,” Sophie adds.
“Does he, now?” Aidan’s brow creeps even higher.
I nod. “So do my mom and dad. It’s a whole thing.”
Fruitcake chooses that moment to rouse himself from the floor, where he’s been sleeping beneath the table, and plant his head in Aidan’s lap. His tails wags so hard against my shins that I’m convinced everyone in The Owl’s Nest can hear it.
I love that Owl Lake is the sort of place where dogs can sleep under the tables in public diners and no one gets upset. I’d forgotten that little detail about my hometown. It seems I’ve forgotten quite a few things.
Like the way Aidan’s smile can light up a room. And the way he always seems to roll up his sleeves just enough to afford a glance of the rugged muscles moving beneath the skin of forearms. And the way my heart beats fast when I see the tiny flecks of gold in his blue eyes, as shimmery and luminous as starlight.
I knew tagging along on this family outing was a bad idea. I’m ogling a man’s forearms. This can’t be normal.
I lift my latte my lips and take a gulp.
Olivia is seated next to me, and as I reach for my drink, her gaze follows the musical sound my charm bracelet makes every time I move my arm.
Her eyes go wide, and she points to my wrist. “Look! It’s the Owl Lake Christmas tree!”
I follow the aim of her delicate little finger. The silver Christmas tree charm dances and swivels on its chain, and the diamond at the center of its gold star seems to wink at me beneath the moody lighting of the bistro.
“Wow, it does look like the town tree, doesn’t it?” I shove my hand back beneath the table, out of view. “But on some level, don’t all Christmas trees look the same?”
Olivia blinks up at me innocently, unconvinced. Probably because she’s right. Just like the other charms that have somehow come to life, the silver tree charm is indeed a perfect replica of its full-size counterpart. It looks exactly like the enormous tree we just watched light up the sky atop the snowy hill overlooking our town. I checked as soon as the bracelet jingled.
But how am I supposed to explain the striking similarity to an entire table full of my hometown friends?
“All Christmas trees look the same?” Aidan frowns. Here we go again. “That’s a little on the cynical side, don’t you think?”
“Or just a simple observation,” I retort.
“If you say so,” he says.
“Aidan.” Susan pins her brother with a glance of warning. “Leave Ashley alone. She’s only saying that all Christmas trees are beautiful. Right, Ash?”
“That’s exactly what I meant. I love Christmas trees.” I flash my sauciest smirk at Aidan. How dare he insinuate I’m a Scrooge. “Have you forgotten that I’m practically wearing one?”
I gesture, Vanna White–style, toward my flashy sweater.
“Touché.” Aidan rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling again—wide enough for me to catch a glimpse of the dimples beneath the scruff lining his jaw.
My st
omach flips and, caught up in the moment, I blurt the first thought that pops into my head. “Do you still think I look like Audrey, even without the black turtleneck?”
Susan practically chokes on her latte. She’s going to kill me. I’ve just majorly broken BFF code by repeating something she shared with me that her brother had likely told her in confidence.
Oddly enough, Aidan himself doesn’t seem fazed.
“Better,” he says quietly, “I think you look like Ashley.”
Someone might need to scoop me up and put me back together, because I’m on the verge of melting into a puddle.
“Who’s Audrey?” Josh asks, glancing back and forth between Aidan and me.
“Audrey Hepburn. Ashley’s always been a big fan. She loves old movies,” Susan says. “Just like Aidan does.”
I busy myself with another gulp of my drink, because I can’t look Aidan in the eye. Gingerbread is one of the only things getting me through the holidays at this point.
“Really? Huh.” Josh shrugs, and then a light bulb seems to go off in his head. “Hey, the Palace Theatre is having a classic movie night the day after tomorrow. You two should go.”
I open my mouth to protest and let Aidan off the hook, but no words come out. Not a single one. Zero. My lips seem to freeze into a perfect, soundless O, like one of those porcelain Victorian carolers in a Dickensian Christmas village display.
Because the truth of the matter is that I want nothing more than to sit in a darkened theater and watch black-and-white Christmas movies with Aidan. I want to share popcorn from a giant bucket and feel a tingle when our fingertips collide. I want to watch shadows move across his handsome face and lose myself in the swell of theatrical music. I want to sink into one of the Palace Theatre’s red velvet seats and feel as if I’m falling back into the past—not simply a grainy, reel-to-reel motion picture past, but my past, when things were so much simpler between Aidan and me.
I want those things more than I’ve wanted anything in a long, long time.
The bistro is bustling with a steady stream of customers, but an uncomfortable silence falls over our little table. The only discernible sounds are the twins slurping their mugs of hot chocolate and a muffled thud somewhere beneath the table, which is either Fruitcake shifting his position or Susan kicking her husband in the shin for prompting such a painfully awkward moment. My money’s on the latter.
I squirm in my seat. “Um…I don’t think…I mean…”
Aidan graciously interrupts my nonsensical stammering. “We could.”
My gaze flies to his, and all at once, the veil of our shared history seems to slip away and he’s looking at me with such an aching vulnerability in his moody blue eyes that my heart feels like it might break clean in two. Or maybe I’m mistaken, and this is what it feels like when a heart starts to mend itself and come back together, beautifully unbreakable.
My mouth is suddenly bone-dry.
I lick my lips.
“We could?” I say, and my voice is scarcely more than a whisper. I clear my throat and nod furiously. “I mean, yes. Yes. We could.”
“Okay, then.” Aidan nods. I suspect everyone at the table is staring at the both of us, but I can’t say for certain because wild reindeer couldn’t drag my gaze from his. “It’s a date.”
I beam, drunk on gingerbread and happiness. “It’s a date.”
Chapter Eleven
“It’s not a date,” I say to Maya the following morning when we’ve finally managed to put an end to the incessant game of phone tag we’ve been playing the past few days. “Not a real one, anyway.”
Ever the optimist, Maya disagrees. “Of course it is. Didn’t you just tell me those were Aidan’s exact words?”
“I did, but I doubt that’s truly what he meant. It’s only an expression.”
Fruitcake plops his head into my lap, and I run my free hand over his silky ears. I’m sitting up in bed in my candy-cane pajamas, not quite ready to step out of my room and face the day. I’ve been sleeping like a rock the past couple of nights. It’s amazing how soothing a snowy silence and the soft hoots of owls outside my window can be, almost like a lullaby.
“Right, but given your history, I highly doubt Aidan would toss that word out unless he really meant it,” Maya says.
She’s right, I know she is, but for some reason I can’t let myself think about our movie night as an actual date.
“You know, Ash. It’s okay to wish for things. I know it’s scary, and I know you’re still tender after the whole mess with Jeremy, but you can’t stop dreaming or wishing for good things for yourself, especially at Christmas.”
“Believe me, I have enough Christmas wishes to deal with as it is.” I cast a fleeting glance at the charm bracelet, still anchored to my wrist. I’ve pretty much given up on trying to remove it at this point.
Maya’s words aren’t lost on me, though. Now—more than ever, perhaps—I’m fully aware of the power of Christmas wishes. I still don’t fully understand what’s happening to me or what the charm bracelet is supposed to teach me, but I know better than to wish for something without considering the full implications of the wish coming true.
As much as I’m drawn to Aidan, we can’t just pick up where we left off. Nothing has changed since he proposed to me all those years ago. His life is here in Owl Lake and mine is back in Manhattan. I don’t know why I have to keep reminding myself of this highly significant and extremely obvious detail.
“You have enough Christmas wishes to deal with?” Maya sighs. “What does that even mean?”
Where to start? “Right now, it means that I seriously need to find a way to get back to the city. Today.”
My boss called while I was at the Christmas tree lighting last night, and I didn’t get her voice mail until late in the evening when I got home from The Owl’s Nest. Her terse message put a prompt end to the walking-on-air feeling I’d had after Aidan’s invitation to the classic movie night. The bottom line: if I’m interested in the promotion, I need to come apply in person and tell her exactly why I think I’d make a good manager.
I’m fully aware the demand is a test of my loyalty and determination, and I can’t fail. I’ve worked too long and too hard in the charms department to give up on this chance of advancement now. Still, Manhattan is starting to feel farther and farther away the longer I’m in Owl Lake.
“Are the trains running yet?” Maya asks.
“Not until tomorrow, but I have a backup plan.” I throw the covers off and climb out of bed.
“I thought the rental car was your backup plan.”
“It was—it still is, actually. Aidan dropped the car off here yesterday afternoon while I was in town visiting his sister at the jewelry store where she works.” At the mention of Enchanting Jewels, a warm glow comes over me. It is really such a charming little place, just the sort of boutique where I want to sell my own designs someday.
Not now, obviously. I’d be a fool not to try and work my way up the ladder at Windsor where I’ve already put in so much time establishing myself. If I’m ever going to get to Paris for Christmas on my own, it’s exactly the sort of job I should have.
“I don’t know,” Maya says. I can practically see her shaking her head on the other end of the line. “I know you want the promotion, but it’s not worth risking your life. According to my weather app, the roads upstate still seem pretty treacherous.”
“Which is exactly why I’m heading to the local auto store to get a set of snow chains.” I nod definitively, pretty darn proud that I managed to come up with a backup to my backup plan.
“Snow chains? Do you really think they’ll make that much of a difference?”
I pull another ubiquitous black turtleneck from my suitcase. “Absolutely. My dad used to have some that worked wonders in snowy weather. Unfortunately, he just got a new set of heavy-duty winter tires, so he
gave the snow chains away. But that’s okay, my eventual promotion will more than cover the cost of new ones.”
It has to, because I’m running out of time to get my application in.
“I should probably get going, though. I’ll text you the second I get back to the city,” I promise.
“Kiss, kiss.” Maya makes cute little smacking sounds into the phone. “And be careful!”
When I emerge from the bedroom, my parents are once again enjoying their adorable coffee and bathrobe morning ritual.
“What’s it going to be this time—plane, train or automobile?” Dad eyes me over his steaming, cinnamon-scented coffee. He’s sipping it from a ceramic OLFD mug, which immediately makes me think of Aidan and our date. Or non-date? Whatever it is, I go all fluttery every time I think about it. “Or have you finally given up and decided to stay here until after Christmas?”
“I don’t have a choice. I have to get back,” I say, although spending time with Aidan again has begun to make me more aware than ever that life is full of choices, every single day. Maybe I’m more in charge of my destiny than I think.
Or I would be, if I didn’t have a magical bracelet stuck on my wrist.
“Honey, are you sure you want to work for a place that won’t consider you for a promotion unless you interrupt your Christmas holiday and drive through a blizzard to go and beg for it in person?” my dad says softly.
“It’s not begging,” I say, focusing intently on the tray of muffins on the kitchen island, because I’m not altogether sure he’s wrong.
Does my boss realize how much trouble I’m going through to get to Manhattan? Does she even care?
I bite into a muffin, but even gooey chunks of cranberry and white chocolate can’t quell my sense of unease. And yet, I can’t give up on the idea of at least trying for that promotion. I’ve spent four years at Windsor. It can’t have all been for nothing.
“I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but the train station still isn’t up and running.” My mom sighs. “You know, if you decide to say put, you could always volunteer to help with the Firefighters’ Toy Parade.”