An Heirloom Christmas

by Squires, Megan

“Absolutely. Our entire family loves the sport and the Northern Lights are our team. I even bought my son your jersey for Christmas two years back. He slept in it every night for a solid year, until he outgrew it.”

  Sure, Nick had received fan letters over the years, but he still had a hard time believing there were kids who looked up to him in the same way he had admired his hockey idols. It was a humbling reality he had never quite gotten used to.

  “We were all sad to hear your contract ended, and after looking at your x-rays, I’m even more disappointed.”

  Nick’s heart sunk. He figured his knee would always give him grief, but having the doctor imply that the end of his hockey career had been inevitable released the last shred of hope.

  “It’s okay, Dr. Timmons. I’ve come to terms with the fact that my hockey days are a thing of the past.”

  The doctor’s eyes narrowed behind wire rim glasses. “I wouldn’t say that at all, Nick. The opposite, in fact. From what I can see, you’ve healed very nicely from that original injury.”

  “But it’s caused me a lot of discomfort recently.”

  “That’s understandable. It’s a great deal colder here in Heirloom Point than it is in Newcastle. Has it mostly been stiffness that’s been bothering you?”

  “Yes. Stiffness and the occasional shooting pain.”

  The doctor nodded. “That’s all to be expected. You’re not at one-hundred percent yet, but certainly getting there. There’s going to be some nerve sensitivity in your joints due to scarring, and that’s aggravated and worsened as the temperatures fluctuate.”

  “So the pain I’ve been experiencing is normal?”

  “There’s not really any such thing as normal with these sorts of sports injuries, but let’s just say I’m not all that concerned about a bit of pain here and there. I would suggest wearing a brace so you don’t continue to reinjure it like you did today. And if the pain does become too intolerable, there are medications we can prescribe that will help manage your comfort. I’m hopeful you can expect to see a continual and gradual improvement. I wouldn’t completely rule out your days in the rink, either,” Dr. Timmons said. “I know our high school hockey team could sure benefit from some solid coaching.”

  Even if the doctor had written it out for him on his notepad, Nick wouldn’t be able to process this information any easier. “You don’t think I should stay off of the ice?”

  “Were you ready to leave it?”

  “Honestly? I’m not sure I know the answer to that question.”

  Holding his clipboard against his chest, Dr. Timmons crossed his arms and tilted his head thoughtfully. “I think if you love something, there’s always a way to work it into your life. You don’t have to give up your dream completely, just start dreaming it in a different way.” He smiled down at Nick as he added, “You’re an incredibly gifted hockey player, Nick, and I think your talents are a real gift to our town. If it’s your goal to get back out on the ice, then let’s make sure that happens. For now, take it easy, keep your weight off of it, and let your body continue to heal. I’ll send Carol back in with a set of crutches for you to use over the next week and then she’ll get you discharged so you can get out of here and enjoy your holiday.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Timmons. I appreciate not only the medical advice, but the life advice, too. I didn’t realize how much I needed it.”

  “Happy to help, Nick,” the doctor said. “You take care and you both have a very merry Christmas.”

  “Same to you.”

  They waited a moment in silence after the doctor left. Then, as though out of nowhere, Chrissy erupted in laughter.

  “What’s so funny?”

  She snorted, then covered her mouth to conceal it. “I love how you said your nickname was Sherlock, when I believe Old Man Winter is much more fitting.”

  “He basically did just say it’s weather-related joint pain, didn’t he?”

  Chrissy pulled out her phone and swiped on the screen.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Deleting my weather app. I won’t need it anymore with you around,” she teased as she stowed her cellphone back in her purse. “You’ll let me know when you feel a storm a’ comin’, won’t you?”

  “Oh, I see.” Nick smiled. “You’ve got jokes now, too, huh?”

  “I can’t let you have all the fun.” Chrissy placed a hand on Nick’s forearm and left it there.

  “In all seriousness, I’m pretty relieved right now. I don’t think I ever let myself acknowledge how disappointed I was that I couldn’t play hockey again. And now it looks like that might not be the case. Did you hear what he said about the hockey team? That would be incredible to give back to the school that helped me get my start.” Nick breathed out, feeling his entire body relax. “For the first time in the last year, my future has never felt so bright.”

  Chrissy squeezed his arm affectionately and the smile that drew out her dimples was warm and full of optimism and hope. “Mine hasn’t either.”

  Chrissy

  “PEPPERMINT WHITE MOCHA,” Doris called out as she placed the drink onto the bar.

  “Thank you, Doris.” Chrissy took the cup and then slid it into a cardboard sleeve. She pressed her mouth to the rim, pulling in a minty sip. “I need my caffeine fix before I head home to finish cleaning the house for tonight’s dinner.”

  “Thanks again for the invite. Earl and I are really looking forward to it. I’m bringing potato casserole and a fruitcake.”

  “I thought you didn’t like fruitcake?”

  “Not all fruitcake. Just that awful one you gave me years ago,” she said as she straightened the cups and lids on the counter near the espresso machine. “I’m bringing the recipe so you’ll have a chance to redeem yourself when it comes to holiday baked goods in the future.”

  “I think I’ll just stick to candles that smell like baked goods and leave the actual baking to the others.” Chrissy rotated the coffee in her hands. “Thanks for the mocha, Doris. It’s delicious. Like Christmas in a cup.”

  “Speaking of Christmas.” Doris nodded toward the entrance of Jitters as the door opened and another patron stepped out of the snow flurries and into the warm sanctuary of the coffeehouse. There, in all of his North Pole glory was Santa Claus, or at least the man who dressed up as him each year for the town’s many holiday functions.

  Chrissy studied him. He was the best Santa she’d ever seen with his plush red suit, black leather belt, and thick boots that looked like they’d been worn more often than just once a year. He was hands-down the most realistic Saint Nick around, his presence both believable, yet inexplicably magical all at once.

  “He’s really good, isn’t he?” Doris acknowledged. “He’s here for the afternoon for any kids who want to come by to share their Christmas wishes. We had planned to set up his sleigh outside in the square, but the weather’s too unpredictable lately.” She looked across the café. “Do you think you could help me move that high-back chair closer to the fireplace? I think that’ll be a good place for him to set up shop.”

  “Absolutely,” Chrissy said as she put her drink back on the counter and waited for Doris to round it. The two women then slid the large velvet chair toward the hearth and stepped back to survey the scene. Wrapped presents with perfectly tied bows were stacked off to the side and stockings were hung on the mantle with the names of each of Doris’s employees embroidered on them. It was a cozy and inviting space. “This looks great.”

  “Doris,” the man greeted as he walked over and engulfed her in a mighty hug. His voice was rich and full. “How have you been since I saw you last?”

  “I would say I can’t complain, but we all know that’s not true,” Doris admitted, much to Chrissy’s surprise. “I can always find something to complain about,” she added, snorting. “Santa, this is Chrissy.”

  “Hi, Mr. Claus.” Chrissy played along. She held out her hand to shake his which was covered in a pristine, white glove. “Glad to meet you.”


  “Oh, I do believe we’ve met before.” The man lifted his other hand to his long white beard to stroke it gently. Chrissy took note of the way it stayed securely on his chin and didn’t pull like a fake beard would. This Santa was definitely a good one.

  “If you’ve been in the business of playing Santa for a while now, I’m sure we have met,” Chrissy said as she reached to take another sip of her mocha before it cooled to an unfavorable temperature.

  “Gosh, I’ve been Santa for as long as I can remember,” he said, his apple-round cheeks lifting in a massive grin. “I might look a little different to you now, though. Long ago, I had a different cap.”

  A blush of embarrassment spread up Chrissy’s neck and onto her face. “I…um…”

  “It’s okay, Chrissy. The missus made me a new one.” He flicked the puffy white ball attached to the end of his cap and it jingled like a bell. “The last one didn’t do that,” he said with a wink.

  “I’m so sorry. I’m happy to return it. Believe it or not, I still have it.”

  “That won’t be necessary, Chrissy. I just wish you wouldn’t have raced off so quickly all those years ago.”

  “You said I was too old to make a Christmas wish. I overreacted and hurried off because I was so embarrassed.”

  “What I had said was you’re never too old to make a Christmas wish.” The man looked down at her with empathy full in his twinkling eyes. “Sometimes we hear what we are expecting to hear instead of what is actually being said.”

  The old newspaper article and the recent misunderstanding with Nick popped into Chrissy’s mind. She let out a quiet laugh as she shook her head. “I seem to have developed a bad habit of doing that.”

  Reaching into a large sack slung over his shoulder, the Santa pulled out a scroll and handed it to Doris. “Would you be able to find a place to hang this for me, Doris?”

  “Yep. There’s room right next to the fireplace,” she said as she unrolled the paper. There, in flawless calligraphy, was a catalogue of names with the words Santa’s Nice List written neatly across the top.

  “Do they send you to some sort of penmanship school to learn to write like that? It’s impeccable,” Chrissy noted, awe infiltrating her voice. She wished her handwriting was even half as good.

  “Something like that,” the man said with a grin. “I sure do hope you ended up getting your wish, Chrissy.”

  “I have—or at least I think I’m in the process of it. Just a few years after the fact.”

  Leaning close, the man whispered, “Sometimes Christmas magic doesn’t work on the same timeline we do.”

  “Speaking of timelines,” Doris interjected with a shout, “we need to get you situated before the kids show up. We’ve got ten minutes until this place is filled with rugrats, all clamoring for a chance to climb onto your lap and tell you their laundry list of Christmas wishes. Let’s get moving!”

  * * *

  “THAT HAM SMELLS amazing.” Nick hobbled into Chrissy’s kitchen, struggling with a casserole dish in hand and a crutch tucked under each arm. “I let myself in. Hope that’s okay.”

  “Of course. And I’ll pass that info along to Crocker’s Grocer—all I did was pop the ham into the oven to warm it up. They did the rest.”

  “Either way, it’s got my stomach growling. Where should I put the green beans?”

  “On the counter is fine.”

  Chrissy untied the apron from around her neck and rubbed her palms together. It wasn’t often that she hosted her neighbors for dinner and she was beginning to wonder if she had possibly bitten off more than she could chew with the task at hand.

  She flipped her wrist over to look at her watch. “Is it really 6:30 already? People should start arriving any minute.”

  “I just saw your dad pulling into the driveway when I came in.”

  At that moment, Chrissy heard her father’s voice call out from the foyer, the creak of the front door swinging shut behind him. “Merry Christmas!” he bellowed, and when he rounded the corner into the kitchen, Chrissy wasn’t at all surprised to see Sandra at his side, just like she had been the night of the Winter Ball. It looked like Lee had taken his daughter’s words to heart about dating again and Chrissy couldn’t be more pleased. No one deserved happiness more than her father.

  “Hi all,” Sandra said as she thrust a foil-covered baking dish toward Chrissy. She seemed unreasonably nervous, her smile forced and voice shaky. “I made some apple streusel.”

  “Thank you, Sandra. I’m really happy you could make it tonight. This smells wonderful.” Chrissy wrapped Sandra in a hug, hoping to ease the woman’s nerves. “And I’m glad you’re keeping an eye on this guy.” She raised her eyebrows in her father’s direction. “Someone’s got to keep him in line. It’s become a bigger job than Everleigh and I can handle on our own.”

  “I have to remind him that even though he enforces the law, he’s not actually above it.”

  “Alright ladies, I’m happy to see you two getting along so well, but can’t an old man catch a break?” Lee turned to Nick. “What do you say, buddy, should we crack open a drink?”

  “Right this way.” Nick tipped his head and used his crutches to help him maneuver over to the refrigerator.

  Within the span of an hour, Chrissy’s home had completely transformed. Crockpots, bowls, pie tins and platters littered the kitchen island, half-filled with what remained of the holiday dishes and desserts her guests provided. The dining room was a cacophony of conversation, multiple discussions held around the large table all at once. She could hear the faint track of Christmas music playing through the surround sound speakers and it provided the perfect backdrop to such a joyous night.

  Chrissy and Nick had yet to even think about collecting their guest’s recipes to study their lettering. That particular task was on the backburner for now. All she cared to do in the moment was share this beautiful evening with her friends and family during the most wonderful time of the year.

  When she had first purchased the Miller place, she had visions of nights like this unfolding within the walls of her home. She wanted it to be a space of laughter and enjoyment, and for the first time since signing the mortgage papers, it was exactly that.

  “Did you ever think there could be this much noise in your house?” Nick pressed his shoulder to hers as he spoke. He took a napkin and wiped his mouth, then placed it back onto the table. “I can barely hear myself think over all the chatter.”

  “I had the hope it would be. It gets awfully quiet here all by myself.”

  “I know the feeling. Life on the road could be a bit isolating. It was almost strange how I craved the roar of the stands, if only for the assurance that I wasn’t alone.”

  Chrissy took Nick’s hand into hers, resting it on the table between their place settings.

  She couldn’t ignore her sister’s raised eyebrows from across the room, her gaze flitting to their interlocked fingers. Chrissy also picked up on Doris’s appreciative smirk and knowing nod. The sudden display of affection didn’t appear to come as a surprise to her friends and Chrissy was thankful for their quiet approval.

  “What do you say I help you get the dishes started?” Nick asked, unaware of the eyes on them. “It’s almost nine and I don’t think our guests have plans to wrap up the evening anytime soon. They might need a subtle hint.” Nick scooted back his chair, but kept his fingers woven with Chrissy’s. Only at the last minute when he pulled the crutches from their resting place against the wall, did he let go of Chrissy’s hand.

  “Let’s leave the dishes.” Then, locking eyes with him, Chrissy added, “And let’s leave the guests for a bit, too.”

  “You lead the way.”

  Chrissy guided Nick through the dining room and out into the sitting room at the opposite end of the house. The conversations faded as though a volume dial had gradually been turned down until they were finally alone in silence.

  “I love this view,” she said as she looked out through the huge picture wi
ndows. The many cars parked just outside her home didn’t clutter the street, but rather hinted at a house filled with company and that was profoundly comforting to Chrissy. “This is our town and these are our people, Nick. Even if we don’t solve our little mystery tonight, I think it has been a success. Just having everyone I love under one roof is all I could ask for this Christmas.”

  Nick looked like he was about to speak, the words right on the tip of his tongue, when his gaze fell to the coffee table next to them. “What’s this?” He reached for a folded notecard as he balanced with his crutches under his arms and read aloud:

  We were asked to bring the recipe of our favorite dish

  But we have a different Christmas wish.

  We’ve known you both for many years

  So we hope you’ll take this advice from your

  Heirloom Point peers:

  There are lots of ingredients when it comes to love,

  But the first step is to lift your eyes and look above.

  “Looks like they beat us at our own game, huh?” He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand as he glanced up toward the sprigs of mistletoe hung directly overhead. “I think they were onto us with that whole recipe thing.”

  “Looks like,” Chrissy agreed. “I guess we didn’t need to compare notes after all. It seems like everyone is doing their best to make sure we end up back together, doesn’t it?”

  “It would appear that way.” He shuffled closer and Chrissy could feel his breath on her mouth as his lips parted to speak. “What about you, Chrissy? Is that what you want? For us to end up together again?”

  Lifting up on her tiptoes, Chrissy let her answer be known with her hands curled around Nick’s neck, pulling his face down to hers. As if he’d been waiting an entire decade for her answer, Nick dropped the crutches to his side, sending them clattering and skittering to the hardwood floor below. With abandon, he tugged her close to his chest, his full lips meeting hers in a desperate kiss that Chrissy felt deeper in her being than any of their past kisses combined. They were all grown up now and the feelings that bubbled up within her as their lips moved were enough to bring tears to her eyes.