Chrissy had been hugging her arms close to her body, but dropped them at his words. “Nope, I’m actually pretty warm most of the time. I’ll be fine.”
“Chrissy—you and I both know you’re always freezing.”
Out of his periphery, Nick could see a smirk form on Lee’s mouth. “There are some things I need to tend to before I call it a night,” Lee said. “Thank you both for bringing these by. I always love to see how generous our little town is this time of year. Brings me a lot of warmth.”
“And hopefully all of these coats will do the same for those who need them,” Nick said. “Grateful you’ve kept this tradition going all of these years.”
“Me too, son. Me too.” He walked over and shook Nick’s hand and then turned and kissed the crown of his daughter’s hair. “Love you, sweetie.”
“Love you too, Dad.”
Nick watched Chrissy and her dad say their goodbyes and then he followed her out of the building. Even though they’d only been inside a few minutes, the skies had changed, light blue turning into a heavy, threatening gray. Wet, sloppy drops of snow pelted down like slushy rain around them.
“Here.” Yanking his arm from his sleeve, Nick began to shrug out of his jacket.
“I’m not taking your jacket, Nick.” Chrissy waved him off.
“Well, I’m not letting you walk back to your store in nothing but a thin shirt. You’re going to catch a cold.”
“I’ll be fine.”
Dropping his shoulders, Nick surrendered to her stubbornness, but only for a moment. He couldn’t let her trudge through the town’s square without a jacket. It was nearly freezing out. “If you won’t take my coat, then at least share it with me.”
Chrissy’s eyes fell wide open. “Nick—”
“Come on.” He kept one arm in its sleeve and held out the other side of his jacket for Chrissy to slip into. It was a large pea coat with plenty of room for her to squeeze inside. “Just like we used to.”
Water clung to her eyelashes and she blinked rapidly to see through them, the snow now sticking to every surface it touched. Nick could tell she didn’t want to give in, but Mother Nature offered little alternative.
“Fine.” She pressed her body to his as she huddled into the jacket.
Nick’s throat tightened and he pulled in a steadying breath, trying to shake the nerves that came crashing in more fiercely than the storm that had shifted around them. White flurries cascaded over Spruce Street, making it a challenge to see. Luckily, they only had one short block to walk to the candle shop, but the white-out conditions didn’t help them any.
“Who ordered this weather?” Nick teased as they quickened their stride, a difficult task with two people tucked into a single jacket. It was like competing in the potato sack race at Heirloom Point’s Fourth of July Fair. They shimmied their way forward, but it was awkward and gangly and when Chrissy lost her footing, nearly slipping on the slick walkway, Nick grabbed onto her waist with his free hand to keep her from falling.
“Careful,” he murmured.
She looked up at him, surprise in her gaze. “Thank you,” she said in a voice hardly above a whisper.
“No problem.” He smiled down at her and wondered if she could tell just how fast his heart raced. He was sure his pulse thrummed visibly in his neck.
They continued like that, waddling and wading through the angry weather until they reached her store.
Squeezing through the doorway as one unit, they toppled into the shop. If Nick hadn’t known better, he would’ve thought they’d set foot in a bakery, all of the delectable smells making his mouth water.
“Gosh, Chrissy. It always smells so good in here.”
Hurriedly, she slipped out of his jacket. He couldn’t lie—he was a little disappointed that she wasn’t pressed up against his side any longer, but the coat was sodden and wet, and keeping it on made him even colder. He pulled it from his body and hung it on a hook near the door to dry.
“I set the heater up in the backroom. You’re welcome to warm up with me for a bit if you like.”
It was an invitation Nick wasn’t about to pass up. “Thank you. That would be great.”
The store was dark, save for that Edison bulb that always shone dimly in the front display.
“How many years now?” Nick asked, nodding his head toward the old light.
“That bulb? Seventy-five years next week, actually.”
“You’ll never believe it, but when I was out in Washington for a game back in 2016, there was a celebration for a similar light bulb. It had been illuminated for a million hours at that point. They threw a party for it. A light bulb party. That bulb even had its own website.” Nick chuckled as he recalled the memory. “Made me think of this one. Remember how we’d always stare at it from my parents’ shop back in high school, just to see if it would flicker or go out? You said it was magic.”
“I still think it must be. Sometimes magic is the only explanation.”
“Sometimes it is.” Nick looked at Chrissy, wanting to say more, but not knowing how. “Anyway. That space heater…”
“Right. Over here.”
He followed Chrissy to a small workroom where bottles of oils were lined up, along with empty Mason jars ready to be filled with soy wax and wicks. There was even a small tabletop stove in the corner of the room. Nick figured Chrissy did most of her candle making in this portion of the shop and he was surprised by the overwhelming sense of pride that surged through him as he took it all in. Chrissy had become so successful, truly the Heart of Heirloom Point as evidenced by the many awards she’d received over the years with that exact title.
“Is this where the real magic happens?” he asked as he looked around.
“It’s where the magic is supposed to happen, but this year it’s like there’s been some spell cast on me. I swear I cannot come up with anything for my holiday scent.” Bending down, Chrissy plugged the heater into the wall and angled it their direction. Instantly, warm air rushed out. “If I don’t create something soon, I’ll have to go without a Christmas edition candle and I can’t say people are going to be too happy about that.”
“Let’s brainstorm then.”
“Nick, you don’t have to help.”
He pulled up a stool at the long workbench and motioned for Chrissy to take a seat on the one next to him. “I know I don’t have to. I want to.”
Conceding with a tentative smile, Chrissy scooted out the chair and lowered onto it. All the heat the space heater put out couldn’t compare to the warmth of Chrissy so close to Nick, sitting side by side. At one point in time, he thought their entire lives would take place side by side. He couldn’t dwell on that anymore. The past was the past. The future was unknown. But the present—this moment in the candle shop with Chrissy—this was a gift. He would treat it as such.
“So. How exactly do you do this? What’s the first step in making a candle?”
“The actual candle making comes later. It’s deciding what fragrances to use that has me stumped.” Chrissy shook her head. “I feel like I’ve lost all of my creativity, you know? Do you ever feel that way? Like you just can’t create?”
“I wouldn’t say I have much creativity to lose to begin with,” Nick said, jabbing her lightly with his elbow.
Sitting forward a bit in her seat, Chrissy reached for the bottles on the shelf. She selected a handful and placed them onto the table. “I think everyone has the ability to create. At least I used to. But I’m beginning to prove myself wrong.”
“What is it that has you so stumped?” Like most men, Nick was a problem solver, and this was a challenge he wanted to help Chrissy overcome. It seemed simple enough.
“I can’t seem to come up with anything new.” She twisted the lid to a bottle labeled cloves and lifted the dropper to her nose, inhaling as her eyes shut. She opened them and then set the dropper back into its bottle. “I’m starting to wonder if there are only so many Christmas combinations out there when it comes to fragr
ances. I’ve already made candles that smell like trees. Others that smell like baked goods. Ones that evoke thoughts of winter and freshly fallen snow. Really, what’s left? I think I’ve probably covered everything.”
“Why do you think it’s such a bad thing to repeat the past?” he challenged, no longer feeling like he was referring to the candles.
Her head whipped his direction, an apprehensive look on her face. “I don’t think it’s a bad thing,” she replied with more grit in her tone than necessary. “I just worry what others will think.”
Pressing closer, Nick dropped his gaze to her mouth fleetingly as he said, “And why do you care what others think?”
He could see her chin quiver, her lips trembling faintly. “I don’t care what others think.”
“Yes,” he said soft and low, unable to keep from leaning closer. “You just said you worry what others will think.”
“I don’t care what they think,” she repeated and this time the tremble found its way into her voice. Her eyes darted from Nick’s down to his mouth and back up to his eyes where she searched him out, trying to read his intentions. “I really don’t.”
In the shelter of the backroom, with the storm pummeling the rooftop insistently overhead, Nick felt a magnetic pull toward Chrissy, like the energy from the flurry had merged its way into their beings, electric and powerful. She felt it, too; he could plainly see that. His breathing picked up in tempo, masked only in sound by the heater that whooshed back and forth over them.
Looking out from under her fringe of lashes, Chrissy pressed forward, closing the gap.
Nick lifted his hand and grazed her cheek delicately with his finger. He swept a lock of hair behind her ear and then cupped her jaw with his hand. Suddenly, he was fifteen again, that first kiss build-up and anticipation enough to make his head spin like he’d been riding a merry-go-round.
“Chrissy…” he swallowed, then leaned all the way forward, forgetting all the absent years, only caring about this moment in time with the only woman he had ever loved.
“Nick…”
Chrissy
CHRISSY SHOT UP from the stool, the spark jerking her out of the trance she’d all-too-easily slipped into. She rushed toward the outlet and yanked the cord from the wall. The smell of electrical smoke in the air was so different from the kind her candles produced and it stung her nose and made her eyes water.
“What on earth happened?” She whirled around to face Nick. His hands were on his thighs and he shook his head like he had to collect himself and his thoughts before answering.
“Looks like maybe a tripped breaker,” he hissed through his teeth.
“From the heater?”
“More than likely.” He sighed and then stood. “Do you know where your breaker box is? I can check it out for you if you like.”
“It’s out in the front room. On the east wall, I think.”
“Gotcha. I’ll go take a look and see what’s going on.”
Chrissy was grateful for the temporary solitude. She needed a moment to herself to replay what might have happened had that outlet not popped so loudly, making her duck for cover.
She was about to kiss Nick.
Nick McHenry, her first boyfriend and ex-fiancé.
What in the world had gotten into her? Maybe it was the jacket. Snuggled up next to him, their bodies forced so intimately close, the pleasant, warm scent of his familiar cologne—it was like some portal had opened up and whisked her back in time.
She ran her fingers across her lips and briefly closed her eyes.
“Chrissy?” Nick called out from the other room. His tone held enough uncertainty that she knew her attention was needed elsewhere and not focused on old memories she had no business rerunning. “Can you come here for a second?”
When she rounded the corner, her heart bottomed out, like an anchor had been wrapped around it and thrown overboard.
Nick stood in the middle of the room, a light bulb in his hand.
“What—?” She nearly choked. “What happened?”
“It’s out, Chrissy.” His voice was gentle. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s gone out before. Briefly, but it always comes back on.” She tried to conceal the vibration in her voice. Rushing forward, she took the bulb from him. “We’ll just screw it back in. I bet it will work if we just put it back.”
“I already tried that.” He took a step forward. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s been on forever. I can’t imagine a tripped breaker is enough to make it go out for good.”
Nick’s sincere demeanor didn’t change as he came up behind her and placed a hand on the small of her back. “Maybe it was the storm. Who knows? But I don’t think it’s going to come back on, Chrissy. I don’t think it has anything left. I’m sorry.”
She shrugged like she didn’t care about the light bulb as much as she did. “It’s fine. It’s just a light. Some things aren’t meant to last forever.”
Nick pulled back his hand. “Right. I guess that’s true.”
“I should get back to my candle making.”
He looked at her like he’d been shocked with the same current that jolted the store moments earlier. “I’ll just get my coat and head out.”
“Thank you again for sharing it with me on the walk back.”
“It’s nothing, Chrissy.”
She didn’t want to read into his words. It hadn’t felt like nothing. It felt like everything.
She also hoped he hadn’t read into hers, the words that declared the end to things that at one point in time, felt like they could last forever, too.
* * *
“IT’S ONLY A light bulb.” Everleigh plopped down next to Chrissy. She speared a piece of iceberg lettuce with her fork and brought the bite of salad to her mouth. “And honestly, considering that this is a candle shop, it shouldn’t really make any difference whether or not that light is on. You have plenty of other resources to choose from.”
“What Everleigh is saying is true,” Nita offered, smiling sweetly as always, “but I do understand why you’re disheartened, dearie. We’re all just so used to seeing that old bulb on that it’ll take some getting used to now that it’s gone out. Change is always difficult.”
“And sad,” Chrissy added.
“Not always sad, sweetie.” Nita took Chrissy by the shoulders and squeezed in a grandmotherly way. “Sometimes at first, but things get better with time. Trust me.” Glancing around Chrissy, Nita surveyed the workbench. Sets of oils were grouped together, Chrissy’s last five candle combinations lined up in order, year by year. “You doing something with these? A little holiday inspiration?”
“The opposite, actually. I got them out so I don’t accidently replicate them in this year’s blend.”
Everleigh lifted a napkin to her mouth and wiped it, then said, “I think you might be going about this all wrong.”
“Yeah? How so?”
“You’re so stuck on not repeating the past that I think you’re missing a big opportunity here.”
Chrissy couldn’t grasp her sister’s point.
“Let’s try something,” Everleigh proposed, picking up the vanilla oil from the Santa’s Sugar Cookie candle, the candied ginger from Chrissy’s Merry Mulled Christmas Cider, pine needle from Balsam and Bells, spruce from Winter Wreath, and the peppermint oil from Freshly Laden Snow. She pulled out the droppers from each little bottle and wrapped her hands around them, bundling them like a bouquet of wildflowers. “Close your eyes.”
Chrissy followed her sister’s guidance and kept her eyelids shut as Everleigh waved the small syringes beneath her nose.
“Breathe in.”
“I see what you’re getting at.” Pulling in a deep inhale, Chrissy trapped it in her lungs before blowing it out through her mouth. “Hmm, I actually like it. But something’s off.”
Nita leaned in and took a whiff. “I agree. Almost there, but not quite.”
Flashing her eyes open, Chrissy reached over and
snatched the sugar oil bottle from the table. “Swap out the peppermint with this.”
The sisters traded droppers, then all three women pressed forward and breathed in.
Chrissy couldn’t keep the massive grin from her face. “That’s it!”
“Did I, or did I not, tell you that I would be the one to come up with this year’s candle scent?” Everleigh boasted with a haughty laugh.
“You can’t take all the credit,” Nita said. “You took bits and pieces from Chrissy’s previous blends. Like little memories from each candle.”
“Christmas Memories!” Everleigh exclaimed. “Man, I am on fire! That’s totally what you should call it.”
“Christmas Memories?” Chrissy let the name roll around on her tongue, but she wasn’t sure she loved the sound of it. It felt a little generic.
“Yes,” Everleigh said. “It’s the perfect name.”
“Maybe not perfect.” Leaning forward, Chrissy breathed in the pleasing combination of oils once more. “But I do love this. This blend, right here, is perfect.”
“It’s like an heirloom, all these pieces of nostalgia wrapped up in one scent,” Nita said.
“An Heirloom Christmas,” Chrissy agreed. “That, I do love.”
Everleigh placed a hand on her sister’s shoulder and grinned. “See? All you needed was a little help to find what was right there all along.”
* * *
CHRISSY TURNED THE note over in her hands, folding and unfolding it like a piece of origami. She didn’t see it at first. When she went to lock up the store for the night, her heart sank at the apparent absence of a letter. She’d begun to anticipate them, hope for them, almost. Sure, she’d only received two so far, but it felt like there was some sort of meaning behind their placement in her wreath. Some purpose that she didn’t quite yet grasp. She hadn’t realized how much she wished for another piece to that puzzle.
Shoulders slouched, Chrissy shook off her disappointment as she slipped the key into the lock to secure the shop. Then, just as she turned to go, she caught a glimpse of something in her periphery. Looking closer, she spotted it amongst the foliage. The forest green color of the paper camouflaged it and it was stuffed deeper into the wreath than normal, wedged between the branches and the door. But it was still there.
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